Phoenix Rising

by Anais Ninja

  “Could you get me an aspirin and water?” she asked.

  “Sure,” I said, getting out of bed. I scooped my panties up from the floor and slipped them on when I got to the bathroom, hoping that Mia wouldn’t see the traces of my father’s semen that had dried on my cleft. I found the aspirin and poured a glass of water, bringing these back to Mia. She sat up with some difficulty and swallowed two of the pills, washing them down with the tap water. Then she laid down again, a pained expression on her face.

  “Anne, could you do me a favor?”

  “Sure,” I said. “Anything.”

  “Would you get the kids ready for school? I just can’t move right now.”

  “Of course,” I said, kissing her on the forehead. I left her in the bedroom and went to Dana’s room, waking her up with a kiss.

  “Where were you?” she asked me. “I wanted to cuddle with you.”

  “I’m sorry, baby,” I said, brushing her curly hair away from her face. “I guess I fell asleep on the couch.” She knew I’d slept with both my father and Mia, but for some reason I didn’t want her to know that I’d been in bed with both of them at the same time.

  “Annie...,” she said, wrapping her arms around me.

  “Time to get up for school, baby.”

  “Where’s Mommy?”

  “Her back is bothering her, so I’m going to cook breakfast for you and Davy, okay?”

  “Okay,” she said. She stretched and swung her legs off the bed, rubbing her eyes and slipping her little feet into her slippers. I walked through the bathroom to David’s room and slid open the door. He was lying on his back, the blankets around his thighs, his beautiful penis slumbering along his thigh. If only there was more time. I would have loved to wake him up in that special way. I leaned over and kissed him, caressing his smooth chest until he awoke.

  As the kids washed up, I made breakfast, putting on some coffee for myself, whipping up pancakes and sausages for David and Dana. A few minutes later, they entered the kitchen, dressed for school. I served their breakfast and sipped my coffee as I watched them wolf down their food. Afterwards, they put their dishes in the sink and I saw them to the door, getting a kiss and a hug from both of them, watching as they walked down the street to the bus stop.

  I felt like a housewife, puttering around the kitchen in my little nightie, cleaning up after the kids, stacking their plates in the dishwasher, and I liked it. Cooking and cleaning for Ramon and my stepbrothers sometimes got tiresome, but today felt different, almost as if David and Dana were my own children. I made breakfast for Mia, a cup of decaf instead of the coffee I’d been drinking, and brought it in to her bedroom on a tray.

  “Anne, thank you,” she said, slowly sitting up on the bed.

  “How’s your back?”

  “A bit better,” she said, pouring syrup on her pancakes.

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “That’s so sweet of you,” she said, taking my hand and squeezing it. “Could you draw a bath for me, please? I think some warm water would help.”

  “I’d be glad to,” I said, heading to the bathroom and turning on the faucets. The tub was huge, and would take a while to fill, so I headed back to the kitchen and had a couple of pancakes and the last sausage for breakfast. Afterwards, I looked in on Mia again and checked the tub. It was only half full. Mia was done with breakfast, so I took the tray back to the kitchen and did the dishes. By the time I was done, the tub was nearly full. I helped her from the bed to the bathroom, seeing her wince as she lowered herself into the tub. She picked up the soap and began washing herself.

  “Let me do that for you,” I said, taking the bar from her hands and lathering her creamy skin.

  “Thank you, sweetie,” she said. “I remember what we did last night.”

  “You do?” I froze, soap in hand.

  “Yes,” she said.

  “You’re angry, aren’t you.”

  “No, Anne,” she said. “I’m not. I think it was my idea.”

  “It was?”

  “I’d rather share him with you than with some stranger he picked up at a bar.”

  “Mia...,” I said. She’d surprised me with this attitude of acceptance. I had expected jealousy at the very least.

  “I’ve seen the way you look at each other,” she said. “I know what you did in his den. You’re a very loud girl, Anne.”

  “He knew about us, too,” I said. “Lean forward so I can do your back.”

  “Thanks. He mentioned that last night, after he got a couple of drinks in him. He said he wanted to watch us make love.”

  “Well, he got his wish,” I said.

  “That he did,” Mia said. “Why don’t you join me? There’s plenty of room.”

  “Okay,” I said, putting down the soap. I pulled my nightie off over my head and slipped off the sheer panties, gingerly dipping my toe in the water, testing the temperature. It was nice and warm, not too hot, and I settled in across from Mia.

  “Kiss me,” she said, leaning forward, pressing her lips against mine. She picked up the bar of soap and lathered my breasts. I reached for hers, running my fingers over her slippery nipples. She moaned as we kissed, and I felt her hands moving lower, down my body, resting between my legs.

  “I need to shave again,” I said.

  “Let me do that for you, sweetie,” she said. Mia had me sit on the edge of the tub, spraying shaving cream on my cleft, carefully removing the light stubble on my mons and labia with a disposable razor. She did it slowly, gently, careful not to nick my most delicate parts. Mia splashed water on my sex, rinsing off the remnants of shaving cream from my pussy.

  “Thank you,” I said.

  “Would you do me?” she asked. “I want to surprise Frank.”

  “I’d love to,” I said. I helped her up on the edge of the big black marble tub and spread shaving cream over her mound and cleft, shaving her as carefully as she’d done for me, rinsing the hair off when I was done. She looked beautiful, naked, clean. I leaned forward and kissed her bare mons, making her gasp with delight. Mia had trouble seeing over her swollen belly, so I held up a shaving mirror so she could look at the reflection of her newly shorn sex.

  “This is going to itch, isn’t it?” she asked me.

  “Not if you moisturize,” I said. “That’s the fun part.” We laughed, rinsed off our soapy skin, and emerged from the tub, gently drying off each other. Then we climbed into her bed with a bottle of skin lotion, rubbing the moisturizer into each other’s newly shaven parts. It turned into more than just the application of lotion, though, much more. Our busy fingers sought out each other’s secret pearl, soft voices singing a duet of pleasure.

  “I’m going to love having you around, Annie,” Mia whispered as I rubbed lotion into her big round belly and swollen breasts. “Especially when the baby is born.”

  “I don’t know if I’ll be here for that,” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean I’ve decided to stay in Boston, at least until this summer.”

  “Why? You know we’d love to have you move in right away.”

  “I know, and I appreciate that, but I’m going to go to a very good school up in Boston, one that will help me get into a good college. I missed a whole year of classes and I think I should make up for it.”

  “This school is that good?” Mia asked.

  “It is,” I replied. “Forty percent of its graduates go on to the Ivy League.”

  “That is good,” Mia said. “The schools here are okay, but I would love to have the kids to go to a private school. I wish we could afford that.”

  “So you understand?”

  “I do,” Mia said, kissing me on the forehead. “You’re a bright young girl and it’s good that you’re thinking of your future. You can spend the summer with us. We’ll have fun. By then we should be in a bigger house with a swimming pool.”

  “Thanks,” I said, kissing her on the lips.

  “Does you
r father know?”

  “I haven’t told him what I’ve decided yet.”

  “He’s going to be upset,” Mia said.

  “I’ll break it to him gently,” I said. “We’re going camping tomorrow, and I think I’ll tell him then.”

  “Right, camping,” she said. “I hope you have fun. I never cared for sleeping in the open.”

  “I’ve never been camping,” I said, “except for one night in the backyard in Maine with my stepbrothers.”

  “That must have been fun, the three of you in a tent, right?”

  “It was,” I said.

  “Tell me, did you sleep with your stepfather, too?” I’d told Mia about making love with my stepbrothers, so I guess she drew her own conclusions.

  “Yes, I did. After my mother died, he was so sad...”

  “Poor baby,” Mia said, putting her arm around me and drawing me close to her warm body. “Annie, I have to ask you something.”

  “Anything,” I said. I felt so close to her then.

  “Have you done anything with David?”

  “Yes,” I replied. I couldn’t lie to her.

  “And Dana?”

  “Yes,” I said. “You must think I’m horrible.”

  “No, Anne. I don’t.” Mia held me tight, her lips on my neck, my cheek, nibbling my ear. “You’re just like your father, insatiable. Before we were married we lived in an awful little apartment in Tempe, near the university. He couldn’t keep his hands off of me, all day, every day, from the moment he woke up until just before we went to sleep. Five, six times a day, easily. Sometimes I’d catch him in the bathroom, jerking off on the toilet with a magazine in his lap. He couldn’t help himself. It was like he was wired that way, always horny, always erect. We couldn’t drive an hour without him having to pull over so I could suck him. I was almost happy when he got me pregnant, at least at first. I could get some work done without having him come into my office and take me on the couch.”

  “And I’m my father’s daughter,” I said.

  “You are your father’s daughter,” Mia said. We kissed again, our tongues meeting, sparring, tip swirling over tip. I heard footsteps in the hall and suddenly the door opened. A young woman in a plain light blue uniform dress with a white apron stood in the doorway, fresh linen in her hand.

  “Excuse me,” she said. “Sorry Senora Mercer, sorry, sorry.” The housekeeper blushed and backed out of the room as we burst out laughing.

  “I guess I should get up,” Mia said, reaching for her robe. “In five minutes every housekeeper in the neighborhood will know what she saw.” Mia moved slowly, carefully, but I could tell her back was better; she wasn’t wincing from the pain.

  I climbed out of bed and grabbed my nightie from the bathroom, not bothering to put it on again. The housekeeper had already seen me naked in bed with Mia. There was no point. I walked into Dana’s room to get dressed and there she was, the housekeeper, changing the sheets on Dana’s bed. She turned and looked me up and down, smiling.

  “Como se llama?” I asked her.

  “Maria,” she replied. She was young, barely past eighteen, short and slightly plump, but pretty, very pretty, with big brown eyes, high cheekbones, and long dark hair braided into a single thick pigtail.

  “Maria, me llamo Anne,” I said, extending my hand. She took it and gently squeezed it.

  “Anita,” she said.

  “Maria, no hable de este, por favor,” I said in my broken Spanish, tilting my head in the direction of Mia’s bedroom.

  “I will not talk of that to anyone,” she said. “I promise you.”

  “Thank you,” I said, gently squeezing her arm.

  “De nada,” she replied, heading into David’s room to change his sheets.

  I got dressed, sweatshirt and sweatpants, and headed into the kitchen for another cup of coffee. Mia had a meeting with a client that day, and had to take Dana to dance class, so I was on my own until the afternoon, nothing to do except walk the dog. I decided to spend the morning at the clubhouse, swimming in the pool, so I put on my string bikini, wearing my denim miniskirt and a white peasant blouse over that.

  The pool was empty, as I’d expected on a weekday morning. I tied my hair back into a ponytail, swam a few laps, took a dive off the high board, and then settled down on one of the lounge chairs to read. It was cool outside, mid-sixties, but much warmer inside the pool house with the bright Arizona sun shining through the glass walls and ceiling.

  I heard footsteps and looked up from my book, seeing an older man in a short yellow terrycloth robe and flip-flops enter the pool house. He doffed his robe, placing it on a chair on the other side of the pool from where I was lying, and dove into the water, swimming the length of the pool, back and forth, touching the edge and kicking off from the side, reversing his direction. I returned to my reading — I was half way through Fear of Flying — and a few minutes later he emerged, water dripping from his skin, matting his graying body hair. He picked up a towel and dried himself, sitting down when he was done.

  I glanced at him over my paperback. He was reading a magazine, licking his thumb to turn the pages. Late fifties, maybe early sixties, a thick head of graying hair, broad barrel-shaped chest, a bit of thickness at the waist, deeply tanned skin. I figured him for one of the retirees who owned about half of the homes here. Every so often he’d glance over the top of his magazine at me and smile.

  “Water’s nice today,” he called out across the pool.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Aren’t you going in?”

  “I just got out,” I said, swinging my head so he could see my wet ponytail.

  “I’ll bet you’re a good swimmer,” he said.

  “I’m okay, I guess.”

  “I’ll bet I could beat you.”

  “Beat me?”

  “In a race,” he chuckled.

  “Oh, a race,” I said. “I thought you meant with your fists.”

  “Heh, no. How about it? Loser buys lunch?”

  I thought about it for a moment; I was hungry, and I hadn’t had time to eat a proper meal after getting the kids ready for school and making breakfast in bed for Mia. He was a good swimmer, but not as fast as me. What the hell, all I had to lose was a few bucks for a sandwich at the clubhouse cafe.

  “You’re on,” I said, putting my book aside. We walked to the end of the pool, opposite the side with the diving boards.

  “Jack,” he said, extending his hand.

  “Anne,” I said, taking his hand and shaking it.

  “Four laps, back and forth.”

  “Sounds good,” I said. I stretched my arms and legs and took a deep breath, standing at the edge of the pool, my toes curled over the side.

  “Ready?”

  “Ready,” I replied.

  “Set...go!” He dived into the pool, and I followed him a split-second later. Jack had a two yard lead on me, but I closed the gap after the first lap. I was a faster swimmer, but he had a powerful kick, and we were neck-and-neck for the first two laps. By the end of the third, though, I’d pulled away, and I finished the final lap a good six or seven seconds before he did. We clung to the side of the pool, catching our breath, and he held out his hand again.

  “Congratulations,” he said. “You’re an excellent swimmer.”

  “Thank you,” I said, climbing out of the pool. He followed me up the steel ladder.

  “Guess I owe you lunch.”

  “That’s okay,” I said. “You don’t have to.”

  “Please, I always keep my word,” Jack said. “Besides, I think dining with a gorgeous girl like you should be my consolation prize.”

  “Well, okay,” I said, blushing. “You can buy me a burger at the cafe.”

  “Deal,” he said. We dried off and headed for the snack bar, but it was closed, a sign on the door saying that it was only open Friday through Sunday. The thought of a nice juicy hamburger made my stomach growl.

  “Tell you what,” Jack said. “Let’s go back to my
place and I’ll whip something up, okay?”

  “Sure,” I said. Jack wrapped his robe around my shoulders and we walked a few blocks to his house, one of the newer ones. It was sparsely furnished, as if he’d just moved in. There was a backhoe and other construction equipment in the back yard, and a deep gash in the lawn.

  “I’m having a pool installed,” Jack said, opening the refrigerator and peering inside, pulling out a plastic container. “Hope you don’t mind potato soup. I’m on a bland diet because of my ulcers.”

  “No, that’s fine,” I said. “Would you mind if I used your shower? They put too much chlorine in that pool.”

  “Not at all, not at all,” he said. “Bathroom’s upstairs, there should be fresh towels in the hall closet. Make yourself at home, Anne.”

  “Thanks,” I said, heading upstairs. The bathroom was a room off of his bedroom, also barely furnished, not much more than a bed, a dresser, and a small night stand. I was surprised to see that he had a waterbed. Carrie, Bradley and Helen’s daughter, had one as well, but after she moved in with her boyfriend in New York, Helen had it dismantled and replaced with a queen-sized mattress and box spring. It leaked, and was just too much trouble to maintain. I sat on Jack’s bed, feeling it undulate beneath my bottom.

  After a quick shower, I put on my blouse and skirt, though I’d forgotten to bring panties to wear. Guess I’ll just have to keep my legs crossed, I thought to myself. I headed back downstairs to the kitchen. Jack was stirring the soup with a wooden spoon.

  “Where can I put my wet suit?” I asked him.

  “There’s a chair on the patio,” he replied. “Just put it next to mine.”

  “Thanks,” I said, heading out to the back yard. I laid my wet bikini on a painted wooden deck chair, next to his wet swim trunks and went back inside.

  “Just about ready,” he said. There were two places set at the kitchen table, hand-painted ceramic bowls, a loaf of black bread, and a tub of margarine. I sat down and Jack ladled the soup into my bowl.

  “Smells good,” I said.

  “Thanks,” Jack replied. “Made it myself. Help yourself to some bread.”

  The soup was good, though just a bit bland. Jack talked about how he loved spicy food, and how hard it had been to give it up, even harder than it had been to stop smoking. He offered me a glass of white wine, something he wasn’t supposed to have himself, but a half glass a day was his only transgression.