A Rose By Any Other Name Pt 01 1

(Note: Happy New Year everyone. I will be experimenting a little during this trip around the sun. This series is based on characters and a scenario requested by Neo Huerta. I hope you enjoy it, and I hope to do these characters justice.)

....

A non-descript late-model sedan slowed mid-block and turned smoothly off the tree-lined residential street into the alley. The stately old homes disappeared behind mature white oaks, stained cedar fences, and three-stall garages. The car rolled slowly past several before angling into a short concrete driveway outside a large brick carriage house. The headlights dimmed. The engine stopped.

In the calm of the warm spring evening, Rose removed her seatbelt and set her purse on the floor between her feet. She shifted in the seat, swiveling her torso toward a driver doing his best to focus on the rich wood grain of the sectional doors in front of him. She giggled, amused by the non-stop fidgeting of his hands.

"Well?" she said softly. "Are you ready?"

....

A low blue flame licked the bottom of the stainless-steel pot seated firmly on the front right burner of the stove. Its contents simmered and steamed beneath the lid through which Amy Martinez monitored the progress. The aroma of blended peppers and spices filled the kitchen, complimenting the cilantro lime rice warming in the pan next to it. She stirred the soup once more, then slipped into a dining chair to wait.

Her hand drifted into the pocket of her cardigan, thumbing the edges of the folded square of paper inside. She'd promised herself she wouldn't ask about it. It was clearly never meant to be found - crumpled and stuffed away at the bottom of the bathroom trash can. But when it fluttered to the floor from the tear in the bag she couldn't help but sneak a peek. And now that she'd read it, there was no going back.

It really was none of her business. They were adults, and whatever was going on between them they needed to work out on their own. And she might have been able to let it go - if not for the one small complication at the bottom of the page.

The words made no sense. Not without context. She needed to understand. To know why. But how could she ask for details of something she was supposed to know nothing about? And ask whom? Did he know? Or was it secret from him too?

She heard a latch rattle open on the second floor, followed by footsteps on the stairs. Shoving the paper deep in her pocket she returned to the stove to stir the soup. She had to find out. Maybe - if she played it just right - she could draw something out of him. Starting with his favorite dish might help.

....

Rose's cream-colored denim jacket slipped from her shoulders, exposing the smooth pale skin to the yellow hue of the old alley lights. Her blouse soon followed, landing in a heap with the jacket on the dash. The driver's eyes zeroed in on the firm, supple orbs cupped in the lacey black bra. He stared, nervously, gripping the wheel with clammy fingers. But the bulge in his khakis betrayed his arousal.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked, for the third time that evening.

"Positive," Rose replied.

"I mean...what if your fiancé comes home and finds us?"

"He's been home for hours," Rose explained, tying her long brown curls into a messy bun and fixing it in place with a pen plucked from the cup holder. "He had a full day shoot that finished at 4:00. He never goes out after those. Too tired. There's nothing to worry about, I promise."

The driver nodded his understanding, but his hands remained glued to the wheel. Rose smiled to herself. "Just relax," she instructed. She pinched the clasp of her bra between her breasts and twisted the halves apart. The material fell away, exposing bubblegum-pink nipples to his ravenous gaze. He swallowed a lump in his throat and tugged at his fly. Rose nodded. "Here," she said, reaching over, "let me help you."

....

Osmar entered the kitchen quietly, wandering over to the stove and peeking into the pot. He smiled. Crinkled his nose. "It smells delicious."

Amy plucked the ladle from the drawer and set it next to the flatware she'd placed earlier on the counter. "Will Rose be home for dinner?"

He shook his head. "She's working late tonight."

"Oh, well that's too bad." She set the pot cover to the side and filled a bowl with soup and rice. "I haven't had a chance to see you both together in a while. Everything okay?"

He hesitated; much longer than she felt he should have. "Yeah," he said finally, "everything's fine."

Amy pouted. Setting the bowls on the table she slid into the chair opposite her son and crossed her chest before swirling her spoon in her soup. "That was...unconvincing."

Osmar savored his first sip, then sighed into pursed lips. "Its fine, really. She's been working a lot, so we're behind on some of the wedding plans. But all the important stuff is on schedule." He spooned some rice into the soup and took another bite. "It would be easier on her if she'd just let me help," he added.

His mother laughed. "Well, it's

her

wedding."

"You mean

our

wedding," Osmar corrected.

"No. Weddings are for bride, son. The honeymoon is for the groom."

Osmar smirked. Amy chuckled to herself before returning to her food. The table was quiet for a moment, and when she looked up again she noticed the dour droop of her son's eyebrows had not lifted. It seemed that last quip struck a nerve.

She waited a while longer, till she was sure of her assessment. Then she set the spoon on the rim of the bowl and folded her hands under her chin. "Are you

sure

you're okay," she asked again, gentler this time, with a touch of urgency. He nodded, avoiding eye contact.

"Yes," he insisted, "I'm fine. We're fine. Everything's fine."

Amy poked a finger toward him, squinting thoughtfully. "That eyebrow wrinkles when you lie."

Osmar sighed and turned away. He trailed the spoon through his rice leaving winding depressions across the surface. "Fine," he conceded. "Not

everything

."

....

Rose's head bobbed up and down in the driver's lap, her lips gliding over the thin film of saliva coating his cock. It fit nicely in her mouth; thick enough to fill the void, but not long enough to gag her. Not quite the size of her fiancé, but not a disappointment. She pushed it deep, pressing her chin against his balls. He gasped and squirmed before settling in the seat, his right-hand curling around the back of her neck.

She formed her tongue around the shaft and added a little twist to her motion. His stomach fluttered against her ear as he hunched forward at the new sensation. Gently she nudged him back, laying her head at his waist and pinching the base of his cock in her fingers. She fed it into her mouth, swabbing her cheeks and suckling the glans in a cacophony of slurping and smacking and spit.

She felt his right-hand drift, between her shoulder blades, down the ridge of her back. He paused at the waistband of her skirt, as if waiting for permission to continue. She scrunched tighter against the center armrest, raising her hips and arching toward him. He brushed aside the flimsy material and waxed large circles over her bare ass. Giving each cheek a tender squeeze, he plucked her thong clear from his path before curving between her thighs and pushing a finger through her slit.

Rose shuddered, lubing the probe with her cream. He dragged it slowly back and forth, smearing her lips and poking her clit. She moaned on his dick, cupping his balls and massaging them in her palm. Her mouth moved quicker and with more purpose. She felt so dirty; sucking a co-worker's cock in her fiancé's driveway. But her pussy was soaked and buzzing like a live wire and her heart beat like a hammer in her chest. The debauchery was intoxicating.

....

"I don't understand," Amy said, frowning. "You're...on a break?"

"No," Osmar scoffed, "we're still together—very much together. I mean, we're getting married for fucks sake. We're just...."

He sighed, downing a spoonful of rice before completing his thought. "It's complicated."

"Well it shouldn't be. Not at this point—the wedding is three weeks away!"

"I know, mom, look, she just needs a little time to herself, okay? A little room to spread her wings. Grow, you know what I mean?"

"I have

no

idea! You're not making sense. Just tell me what's going on. Maybe I can help."

He rolled his eyes. Leaning back in the chair he rubbed his chin and dropped his hands in his lap. "I don't need help," he said flatly. "I just need...." His voice trailed off. He swept the room with a casual gaze and took several more bites before continuing. "She just needs time to...work some things out."

Work things out? To find herself? Usually that meant a summer in Europe, or three weeks in Baja, or five days hiking the Appalachian Trail. Nothing like that was written on the page in her pocket. Changing tactics, Amy sipped her soup and pressed on.

"Well," she responded, a hint of irritation in her voice, "if that's the case, maybe she's not the right girl for you."

Osmar's eyes narrowed to slits, scrunched beneath a wrinkled forehead. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Come on son. After everything you've done for her, she still needs to 'work some things out?' I think you deserve better."

He shook his head in vigorous denial. "It's not like that," he asserted. "

She's

not like that."

"That's not what it sounds like."

"Look. She worked

really

hard in school. Late nights, weekends, holidays, all while holding down a job to pay for it. She didn't have time to herself. Time to make friends; time to hang out; time to...have a little fun. Time to be free." He paused, seemingly trying to convince himself to continue. "She needs that. We all do."

Stunned, Amy sat in silence, struggling not to telegraph her thoughts to her face. He refused to go further. But she did not need him to. The words on the page were dialing into focus.

....

Her head spinning, Rose finally came up for air. Strands of saliva clung to her chin and dribbled from the corners of her mouth. Her nipples puckered from her breasts and her juices dampened her inner thighs almost to her knees. She steadied herself against the console, catching her breath and admiring her work; the plumped, glistening cock straining up toward the dome light.

She watched it throbbing, oozing clear viscous fluid over what she had deposited. Her stomach flopped and a groan escaped her throat. Hot and clammy, her skin squeaked over the upholstery. And the itch between her legs demanded to be scratched. Gripping the edge of the armrest she lunged across, swinging her legs over his, straddling the driver's lap.

She flipped her skirt up over her ass and cinched it round her waist. He stared up at her, wide-eyed, cock twitching against his abdomen. She wrapped the base in her fingers and tapped the head against her mons. The precum clung to her, spilling over her knuckles and pooling on his balls. She licked it off her thumb, slowly, sampling his flavor, comparing it to what she knew.

Their breath completely fogged the windows. The alley was now just a yellow haze. The driver fumbled around his left side. A motor whined and the seat-back reclined about 60 degrees. Rose shuffled higher, pining his penis beneath her pubic bone. He groaned his approval, shifting anxiously beneath. Her pulse quickened. She squeezed her knees into his sides. Planted her hands on his chest. Leaning on him she raised her hips and swallowed his erection with her sodden vagina.

....

Through the awkward silence Amy scooped several mouthfuls of soup before setting the spoon in the bowl and her elbows on the table. She rested her chin on folded hands and stared across at her son. The question in her mind escaped instead as a statement when it left her lips.

"So you're okay with this. With her...being free."

Osmar shrugged. "Yes," he said finally. Another pause. He no longer looked at his mother when he spoke. "I mean I'm no boy scout. I had a good time in college."

"You weren't engaged and about to be married."

"Yeah, well, better before than afterward, right?" He sighed, carving roads with the spoon. "Come on, didn't you want to be wild and free when you were younger?"

"Sure." Amy replied, "That's how I ended up with you at 17."

Osmar rolled his eyes and resumed eating. Amy shook her head. He was a stubborn kid. Took after his father, unfortunately. She leaned on the backrest and crossed her arms over her chest."

"Look, you're an adult. Your relationships are your business. If this is what you want, I will support you. I just want you to be certain this

is

what you want. You could find a more experienced girl. Or one who doesn't feel she needs to make up for lost time." Osmar clenched his jaw, but Amy continued. "Now look at me and tell me. "Is this

really

what you want?"

....

Waves of pleasure sloshed about Rose's body, breaking against her sex each time she crashed down on the driver's cock. Her thighs burned from bucking and thrusting. Her arms felt like jelly between her shoulders and wrists. Her hair - jostled free from the bun - swished across her back and breasts, the tiny pink nubbins, pricking her at every touch.

The driver huffed through gritted teeth, working his hands from Rose's waist down the curve of her ass and back. Over and over he raked and squeezed, leaving hot red prints on her flesh. Spurred by his desire she rode him harder, exposing all but the tip of his penis before driving his hips into the seat. The car swayed to their rhythm. The cabin echoed each grunt and groan before absorbing them in the fabrics.

Clutching at her hips he tried to slow her down. She submitted momentarily. But the instant his grip eased she returned to form; thrusting, bouncing, grinding on his dick. He growled when she keened. Sighed when she moaned. Each round of their chorus rang richer and more dynamic than the one before.

Rose bit her lip, her clit humming, pressure swelling through her pelvis and into her gut. She'd reached the end of the ride and it was time to get off. She shifted her hands to the headrest and smashed her mound against his groin. Her pussy clenched his cock like a vice, molding to every ridge and vein and pushing her long simmering orgasm to a raucous, roiling climax.

She screamed to the ceiling as she came, limbs shaking, toes curled to the soles of her feet. She flooded his mast with her cream, the garish squelch blending seamlessly with the slapping of flesh and the squeak of the seat and the shocks. The driver pulled her face to his neck, trying to muffle her cries. But there was nothing he could do to mute the effect she had on his cock. "Oh fuck," he snarled, "I'm gonna cum Rose, fuck! Fuck!"

Still in the throes of her peak, Rose hunched up off the intruder and slammed down in his lap. His dick snapped flat between her ass cheeks, and she clenched them tight, milking the shaft as she rocked back and forth. Streams of semen burst from the tip, matting her hair and splattering her back, rump and legs. He roared into her shoulder as she drained his balls, and they huddled together, gasping in turn till the last drop of fluid was spent.

....

"This is what I want," Osmar said, his cadence slow, tone confident. "She is what I want."

....

Calm returned to the car. Their maelstrom ceded to the breeze through the leaves and the crickets in the weeds at the base of the backyard fences.

Rose studied her reflection, faint in the misted window. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her forehead, dripped from the bridge of her nose and rolled beneath the bulge of her breasts. Her throat was dry from panting and her knees sore from the abrasion of the B-pillar and the center console. But the ache in her sex was soothed, and it numbed her to everything else. She lifted her head and smiled at the exhausted man beneath her.

"I should go inside."

....

Amy watched her son in silence. He was stern and serious. But the ripple in his jaw and the tick in the corner of his eye contradicted the words he spoke. She searched for another clue, something to further explain the duality she detected in his response. But it seemed for now she had all she would get. She nodded slightly, then shrugged. "Okay."

Osmar frowned as his mother returned to her soup. "Okay?" he repeated. "What...what is that? What do you mean 'okay'?"

"I mean I asked you a question and you answered it. So I said okay."

"Yes, I know

what

you said,

mother

, it's the

way

you said it. You're dismissing me."

"Absolutely not," Amy protested. "I affirmed your answer. Like I said, you decide what's best for you. And if the best thing for you is to marry Rose, then I support your decision. I don't have to understand it. I just have to trust you."

Sheepishly Osmar turned away. "I didn't mean to sound like - "

"It's okay," Amy interrupted.

"Come on Mom, that's not -"

"Does she make you happy?"

Osmar paused.

"Well? Does she?"

He sighed, smiling near the end. "Yes. Yes she does."

"Then there's nothing else to it, is there." Amy matched the curl of her son's lips with her own. She waved her spoon over his bowl. "Go on," she added, "eat up."

Osmar drew a deep breath, sighing into his fist before returning to his food. They continued together in the quiet of the evening, chipping away at what remained of their dinner.

....

As Amy scraped the last grains from the bottom of the bowl, the sound of a deadbolt thrown pierced the sterility of the conversation's denouement. Heads turned toward the thud of the heavy wood door slotting back into its frame. Moments later Rose swept into the kitchen, hair cinched in a ponytail, skirt swishing above her knees. She stuttered to a stop behind Osmar's chair.

"Hi sweetie!" she chirped, draping her arms over his chest before bending over to plant a kiss first on his forehead, then lightly on his lips. He smiled and squeezed her hand, managing a "hey there" between swallows of soup. Rose looked up across the table, flashing her eyebrows at her soon-to-be mother-in-law. "Hey Amy!"

Amy looked her over. Her jacket was buttoned only once, between her breasts. Beneath it her blouse was rumpled and untucked. There were several dark splotches on the light blue fabric near the hip of her skirt. And a light sheen to her forehead and face. But Osmar seemed to notice nothing but her bright eyes and pearly whites. Biting her tongue, Amy matched the young woman's energy.

"Hi Rose, how are you? It's been a while."

"I know," she replied with a dash of remorse, "I've just been so busy."

"Well I'm sorry you missed dinner."

"Mmm, me too. It smells great! We were shooting stand-ups for the 10:00 o'clock news and had so many problems with the equipment that what should have taken an hour took more than two instead."

"There's a little left, if you're hungry," Osmar offered.

Rose nodded vigorously. "Thank you! I'm going to go shower first though. It's much warmer out than I expected."

When she turned to leave, Osmar flicked out an arm and smacked her playfully on the ass. She jumped, then giggled, retorting with a wink before bounding out of the room. Amy rolled her eyes and snickered to herself as she rose from the table.

"What," Osmar frowned, "what is that?"

"Nothing," she replied, placing dishes in the sink. She leaned against the counter and slipped her hands into her cardigan pockets. The edges of the note curled under her thumbs. "I'm going to head back," she said. "I think I pushed it too hard at the gym this morning."