by Selena Kitt
I thought they were getting a little ahead of themselves, counting chickens before they hatched and all that—but on the other hand, I didn’t blame them. This poor little girl had been through so much already in her little life, she could use parents like the Baumgartners. I didn’t like to think about the things I’d overheard—being born drug addicted couldn’t be easy for anyone. Then came the bruises, the contusions, the burns and abrasions. And then, finally, the ultimate neglect. Leaving her in a hot car while Mom shopped at Wal-Mart.
She probably wouldn’t be alive if some Good Samaritan hadn’t broken the car window to get her out before calling the cops. I’d seen the story on the news and had been horrified. It was hard to believe we were getting that baby. The Baumgartners would be her savior. She would grow up with them, a part of their family, and they would love her and take care of her and give her more than most children in the world ever received from their parents.
“Hey, Gretchen, let’s go to Gymboree.” Mrs. B had abandoned her dresses—four of them in all. She was terrible at making up her mind.
“Again?” I smiled, putting the dress in my hand back on the rack.
“Come on.” Mrs. B seemed to be in a really big hurry all of a sudden, abandoning her pursuit of the perfect dress and grabbing my elbow, steering me toward the front of the store.
“Okay, okay,” I said, laughing. “Let’s go buy some more pink stuff.”
We’d almost gotten to the front of the store when I saw the reason for her haste. Ronnie was standing at one of the racks, looking through bathing suits. And Vince was standing beside her, looking all buff in a black tank top and jeans. The man’s arms were huge. He dwarfed Ronnie, who laughed when he bent to whisper something in her ear.
I stopped, shaking Mrs. B’s arm off my elbow, watching them talk and flirt and giggle. Ronnie was smiling. Beaming, really. She looked incredibly happy. I knew I should be happy for her, but something thick and bitter crept into my throat, constricting it. I knew it was jealousy, and I had no right to be jealous. We were over. It was over.
“Come on, Gretchen,” Mrs. B murmured, taking my elbow again, gently this time. “Let’s go.”
I knew she wanted to get me out of there before Ronnie saw me. Maybe she thought I was going to make a scene, but that wasn’t my thing. I was more than happy to slip out unnoticed. After all, that’s what I’d done when I discovered Ronnie having sex with Vince in our bed. If I could do it then, I could certainly do it now. I started to leave, following Mrs. B.
That’s when Ronnie looked up and saw me. And I froze.
It was a moment, just a brief, fleeting thing. Our eyes locked. She recognized me, her gaze moving to Mrs. B by my side and then back again. Her smile faded and the suit she was holding dropped to the floor. Then Vince noticed her noticing me. I had a moment of insanity, when I wanted to run over and do something. I didn’t know what. Shake her. Kiss her. Something.
But I didn’t. Instead, I turned and walked toward the exit, Mrs. B following me now.
“Are you okay?” Mrs. B asked as we left Macy’s and headed toward Gymboree at the other end of the mall.
“Fine,” I lied, walking faster. My stomach was in knots. Of course, she knew I was lying.
“Hey, let’s go get some lunch.” Mrs. B caught up, grabbing my hand in hers, squeezing. “How about P.F. Changs? Let’s go eat the Great Wall of Chocolate.”
“Whatever you want to do.” I swallowed past the lump in my throat.
The kids were at camp this week and Mrs. B had decided to take the week off too so we could have a “real vacation” she said. Doc was still working, of course, but we’d gone to dinner last night, the three of us, which was a lot of fun. And today Mrs. B said she wanted to have a girls’ day out. She wanted us to buy some sexy dresses to go to a new nightclub tonight that had just opened.
“Don’t let her ruin things,” Mrs. B pleaded. “You’re going to move on. You’ll find someone else. I promise you.”
I nodded, trying on a smile. I knew she was right. Probably right. I mean, I’d get over Ronnie. We weren’t even really, officially, anything at all. So why was I holding on to what we’d had? I knew I needed to let go. Maybe Mrs. B was right. Maybe I just needed to move on. Find someone else. Maybe several someones.
“Okay, let’s go shopping.” I squeezed her hand, seeing her smile reach her eyes at my sudden enthusiasm. “I need to find the sexiest dress on the planet for tonight.”
“That’s the spirit.” Mrs. B laughed and we headed into the mall.
* * * *
It had been a long time since I’d been to a night club or even a party. Ronnie and I had been homebodies. She spent so much time with school and studying, and me working at the Baumgartners and supplementing that income with selling the photos I took on stock photo sites, that most of the time we just crashed and watched Netflix DVDs together. Sometimes we went out to see an actual movie, but we rarely hung out with other people and never went to parties.
So I was nervous. I used to go to parties and nightclubs. I used to pick up guys. And girls. But I didn’t know if I was that person anymore. So I tried my best to find her, to bring her out with a short, black sequined dress; a cut, color and highlights at the salon that afternoon with Mrs. B; and the application of make-up, which I hardly ever wore anymore.
“My God, Gretchen, you have the most beautiful skin.” Mrs. B swabbed my cheeks with a fat bristled brush.
“Thanks. I’m so pale though.” I met her eyes, beautiful and bright, rimmed with mascara and eyeliner. Her dress was just as low-cut as my own, her tanned cleavage pushed up in the wonder of a Miracle Bra, not that she needed one. But it certainly made her breasts stand out, tantalizing mountains of flesh. A silver pendant necklace hung between them, drawing even more attention there, hanging loosely as she leaned forward to put the finishing touches on my makeup.
“You’re like peaches and cream.” Mrs. B ran a finger under my eye, cleaning up a smudge, her gaze moving lower to my own not inconsiderable, although far more pale, cleavage. “Delicious.”
I met her eyes for a moment, feeling a hot, tight clench in my belly, my gaze dropping down to the floor. Not that there wasn’t anything to look at there. Her heels were four inches high, her legs long, so tanned she didn’t have need of pantyhose. The hem of her red dress barely came to mid-thigh. We’d gone a little wild with the dress buying, I thought. They were probably a little too short, too low-cut. But I had to admit, the dress had the desired effect. I felt incredibly sexy in it.
“I should get a tan,” I mused, unable to help looking at her long, tawny legs. “Do you go to a salon?”
I knew she must, because she didn’t have any tan lines—although I wasn’t supposed to know that, and didn’t say so.
“During the winter I do.” Mrs. B smiled, standing back to admire her handiwork. “But in the summer, I try to spend as much time as I can in the backyard. You should come lay out with me this week. Get some color.”
“I will.” I nodded in agreement.
“And you’ll have a chance to soak up the sun when we go to Key West over Christmas.”
I smiled at that. I used to go with the Holmes’ on vacation all the time. Key West was one of their regular vacation spots. That’s where we’d run into the Baumgartners in the first place.
“There’s something about the Florida sun that turns your skin such a gorgeous golden brown.” Mrs. B tilted my chin up, looking at my makeup, admiring her handiwork. “I remember when we took Ronnie. She got as brown as a little seal.”
She realized her error, stopping and looking at me.
“I’m sorry, Gretch…”
“It’s okay. I was there, remember?” I reminded her. “She’s a brunette, though. I don’t tan quite as easily. I’m just so fair.”
“It’s that white-blonde hair.” She smiled, running her fingers through my hair, sending goose flesh down my arms. “I’m blonde, but you’re—really blonde.”
Sh
e ran a finger over my bare shoulder. The dress was sleeveless.
“Are you blonde all over?” she wondered aloud, her gaze following the path of her finger slowly down my arm.
“Yes, but…” I hesitated, not sure how much I wanted to share.
“But?” She smirked, meeting my eyes.
“Well.” I shrugged. “I’m shaved.”
“Completely?”
“Yeah.” I nodded.
“What a shame.” She tsked at that idea. “You should leave a little bit of that blonde. That would be sexy.”
I smiled. “Maybe I will.”
“So what do you think?” Mrs. B put her arm around my shoulder, turning so we both faced the mirror. “Will Doc fall out of his chair when we walk downstairs?”
“His eyes are going to pop out of his head,” I assured her. “You look so beautiful.”
She did. That red dress, those red nails and lips. She was stunning.
“So do you.” Mrs. B fingered the ends of my hair, falling like corn silk against my shoulders. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you found someone to bring home tonight.”
“Mrs. B!” I raised my eyebrows, surprised.
“We wouldn’t object.” She squeezed my shoulder, dropping a wink. “You just have to be discreet.”
“Of course!” I shook my head. “I wouldn’t do anything like that. I mean, especially if the kids were home.”
“But they’re not,” she reminded me. “Come on, let’s go shock my husband.”
Something happened when I walked down those stairs. Doc was in the kitchen sitting at the table flipping through a magazine and he glanced up when he saw Carrie appear at the bottom of the stairs. I was right behind her and I saw his eyes widen, a smile starting at the corners of his mouth. Then I came up beside her as we approached, and his gaze shifted to me. His eyebrows went up and his jaw dropped and he literally gasped out loud.
“What do you think?” Carrie prompted, smirking. “Will we do?”
“Oh you’ll most definitely do.” Doc stood, still looking at me with that hungry gaze.
He was quite a handsome man, strong jaw and gorgeous dark eyes. And I knew he had an incredible body. There was a gym at the hospital where he had privileges and Mrs. B said he worked out there. Even if I hadn’t seen him naked, I could see he was fit. He was dressed for clubbing, just a tight white t-shirt, an unbuttoned navy dress shirt over that, and jeans. Since I’d been living with them, I’d seen him dressed more casually, but somehow tonight it was different.
“How did I get so lucky, getting not just one but two gorgeous women on my arm?” He offered one to Mrs. B and another one to me.
Mrs. B didn’t seem to mind the way Doc admired my too low-cut, too-short dress. In fact, she commented on it.
“Isn’t she something?” Mrs. B asked as we got into the car, her in the passenger seat, me in the back. “She’s going to get all the boys tonight. And all the girls.”
“Oh I don’t know about that.” I laughed.
“It feels so good to be kidless for a little while.” She sighed happily, leaning back in her seat and turning on the radio.
“Enjoy it,” Doc said. “Because we’re going to be up nights pretty soon.”
“I know.” She smiled over at him, sliding a hand over his leg. “We’ve done it before, we can do it again.”
“How are you feeling about the whole baby thing, Gretchen?” Doc asked, meeting my eyes in the rear view mirror as he stopped at a light.
“Who doesn’t love babies?” I asked.
The club was dark and they’d decided to do an eighties night for their opening, so we walked in to Hungry Like a Wolf by Duran Duran. Doc walked us to a table and then went to the bar to place an order for drinks. I sat back, looking around, taking it all in. They made it ladies night, so Mrs. B and I had gotten in for free. As an advertising ploy, it had worked. The place was packed.
“Want to dance?” Mrs. B leaned in to talk to me, but she still had to yell. She nodded toward the dance floor, already loaded with writhing bodies.
“Let’s wait for Doc!” I yelled back. I needed some liquid courage before I got up to dance in this dress.
Thankfully he returned loaded down with drinks, sliding into the booth next to Mrs. B. There were booths lining one wall, tables against the other. The rest was a dance floor, with the DJ up high in a balcony section. High overhead was an old fashioned disco ball they had turning with multi-colored lights flashing. It was like old-school clubbing night.
I downed my mojito, feeling the alcohol burn my throat and heat my chest.
“Come on, baby, let’s dance!” Mrs. B grabbed Doc’s hand, nudging him out of the booth with her hip, her dress riding high up on her thighs. She glanced back at me, holding out her other hand. “You too!”
So it was the three of us on the dance floor together, mashed up with all of the rest of the sweaty bodies, Bon Jovi’s Living on a Prayer thrumming through my whole body. I watched them dance together, their eyes meeting, so much heat between them I almost had to look away. There were a hundred people around us and yet the moment was intimate, between the two of them.
And then they looked at me, and suddenly, it was between the three of us. I looked between the two of them, feeling Mrs. B’s hip bumping up against mine, Doc’s hand sliding over my lower back as we moved together. It was a fast song, but our movements were slow, sensuous, deliberate. They included me, separate at first, and then sandwiched between them, Doc behind me, Mrs. B in front, her arms around my neck, my hands on her hips.
It was like sex with our clothes on and the excitement rose, higher and higher, her breasts pressed to mine, Doc’s hands on my hips, and I felt his cock against my ass. He was gloriously hard and grinding, making me gasp and whimper. My reaction made her smile, dancing closer still, her thigh riding up between mine, so soft and smooth it was intoxicating.
I gave into it completely, riding the Baumgartner wave. I don’t know how long we danced, but it was long enough to start getting blisters on my feet from my too-high heels. We finally made our way off the dance floor, finding the booth we’d vacated now occupied. Instead, we made our way to the bar—I was panting, I was so dehydrated—and quenched our thirst with more alcohol. Which somehow just made me thirstier.
“Bathroom!” I yelled to Mrs. B, pointing to the “restrooms” sign above an alcove.
She nodded, taking my elbow and we both went, signing to Doc where we were headed. Even the bathroom was crowded, but at least it was quieter. We waited in line, both of us cooling off, our backs against the cement block walls.
“Having fun?” Mrs. B asked, glancing over at me. We were so close, our shoulders were touching.
“Totally,” I replied with a grin, using a popular eighties phrase, making her laugh.
When it was my turn, I went into the stall, pulling my damp panties down my moist thighs and peed, biting my lip when I wiped. My pussy lips were fat and swollen, my juices slick, requiring another pass. My clit throbbed and I actually considered just getting myself off right there in the stall, getting it over with, releasing some of the tension. But there were too many people waiting. Including Mrs. B.
We washed our hands at adjacent sinks, next to girls even younger than me standing in front of a full length mirror, adjusting hemlines and touching up makeup. I glanced in the mirror, checking my own makeup, noticing Mrs. B doing the same. Her hair, long and curled for the occasion, fell in ringlets over her shoulders. My own, so blonde it was almost white, was bone-straight, no matter what I tried to do, so I didn’t fight nature.
“Ready?” She met my eyes in the mirror and winked, reaching for my hand.
I took it and we made our way out of the bathroom, which wasn’t easy. Everyone seemed to need to relieve themselves at the same time. We found Doc at a booth—he waved us over. Mrs. B let me get in first, and I slid in next to Doc. Then, instead of getting in next to me, she slipped into the booth on the other side, sandwiching him between us.
He smiled, putting an arm around his wife, but not around me. We’d been so close, dancing together. My God, I’d felt his cock pressed against my ass. My pussy was still aching for it. I reached for my drink, taking a long sip, my gaze sweeping the crowd. Most of them were my age, or even younger. I wondered if the Baumgartners felt out of place. Why had they suggesting coming here? I wondered. In the time I’d lived with them, I hadn’t known them to do anything like this. Of course, this was the first time we’d been without the kids.
Then I felt Doc’s hand on my knee under the table. I stiffened, feeling him shift, his thigh against mine, his hand moving, slowly, up, up, up from my knee, grazing my thigh. My pussy clenched in anticipation, my body wanting what it wanted, even while my brain was going crazy, telling me this was wrong, that this was going to ruin everything, that if Mrs. B found out…
“Hey, I wondered if you wanted to dance?”
I glanced up, seeing a guy leaning against our table, looking right at me.
Later, I wondered what might have happened that night if I’d said no, but I bolted. I smiled an apology back at Doc and Mrs. B but they both smiled back and waved me on. Maybe this had been their plan all along, I thought, as I danced with a guy whose name I didn’t even know. I couldn’t help remembering my discussion with Mrs. B about her not minding if I brought some guy home.
So that’s exactly what I ended up doing.
I left the Baumgartners out on the dance floor—they were dancing a few feet from us—and went home with him. I told them, of course, and saw a knowing look in Mrs. B’s eyes, in the curve of her painted red lips. Doc winked, giving me a long, sweeping look up and down, then glancing at the guy standing next to me with one cocked eyebrow, like he’d measured him and found him wanting, but he waved me on too.