Author's Disclaimers: This story could fit into several different categories. Lesbian. Incest. Interracial. By the time I finish, I will decide which one. All characters reside in my mind, only, and if they partake in any sexual stuff, they are at least 18 years of age.
My name is Danielle Spring. At least, for now it is. As I pass my 17th birthday, I am sitting in an undisclosed location watching the funeral of my parents, my lifelong nanny and me.
I guess a little explanation is needed. I was born Grace Cohen, 17 years ago, when this story starts. My parents were extremely wealthy, doing I don't know what. Whatever my father did, he made tons of money. But, as The Beatles sang, 'Money Can't Buy Me Love.' Don't I know it.
If I saw my parents two months out of any year, it was a lot. I was raised by my nanny, Connie Williams. If anybody reading this thinks that was her given name, I'm Cleopatra. In fact, Connie is now and had always been my very best friend. My confidant. The only adult to teach me about life. And now, sitting next to me watching our funerals, the only adult left in this world I truly believed I could trust.
How do I know Connie Williams wasn't the name on her birth certificate? Even Stevie Wonder could see she is Hispanic! She is about 14 or 15 years older than I am, and truly beautiful.
I need to add a little back story, here. Even though my parents lived in a palatial estate in South Florida, I should be entering my last year of high school, somewhere. I've been attending a very exclusive school near Boston, for my entire schooling. This, while living in a posh apartment near this school, with Connie. The people from the United States Marshal Service haven't yet told us where we will be relocated to.
Why relocation? It seems as if some of my fathers business associates took umbrage with the way he paid them, and how much. Also, they weren't terribly thrilled to learn he had given the DEA some names of people who weren't very nice. I guess dear old dad wanted less competition, the safety of his family be damned.
Luckily, Connie and I were safely hidden when some very unsavory men crept into the family estate, spewing bullets like it was open season on snitches. The DEA knew I was still in Boston, with Connie, and supplied the local police with two extra corpses to be found along side of my bullet ridden parents.
After "our" funerals, we asked the Feds where we were going. All we got was, to be determined. After about a week, we were told Greater Seattle would be our destination. I would be enrolled in a very good, private school for my Senior year, and would be living in a modest, 3 bedroom house nearby.
Since I never spent much time with my parents, Connie was the only family I really knew. She was the only one to guide me through puberty. The only one who taught me what most boys wanted from me. And she alone, taught me, that my body was beautiful. This, while standing 5'5" and weighing around 165, had me thinking she was out of her fucking mind. Did I ever tell her this? No, but I did suggest glasses a time or two.
I was well aware of the fact that if a boy wanted to date me, it was to see if my DD cup bra was really me, or stuffing. It was me. My constant upper back aches proved it.
I had a few dates, but each time I felt his hand on my breast, I remembered Connie's words of caution. I didn't have many second dates. I liked some of the kissing, but the groping hands usually brought our night to a screeching halt.
Getting settled in our new surroundings, I started my senior year of high school, with my new identity. Danielle Spring. With our house only a few blocks from school, I found something I never had done. Exercise. Yes, I walked too and from school, weather permitting. With the Feds knowledge, I used some of the money my dad had secretly left me to buy a car. Nothing fancy, but practical. With the area having hills, and snow, I bought a nice usefull SUV, capable of going in the snow.
With my daily walks, along with better eating habits, I soon started dropping some weight. Surprise, surprise, my self esteem improved with each pound I lost.
I did go on some dates, but with my waistline shrinking, my bust line increased. I did find one boy, who was nice enough, to finally relieve me of my virginity, but his family up and moved away. Even though he was a sweet young man, his cock pounding in and out of my young pussy never led to an orgasm for me. Yes, he got his rocks off, but I never did.
I did find the thrill of self pleasuring, though, and received some valuable lessons from Connie. After all, I knew she never dated, but was always smiling. When I asked after I went through puberty, she admitted to the practice of self pleasuring. After my short fling, she showed me a small collection of toys, and gave me lessons on how to use them. Even with this close contact, and sexual talk, we never did anything more that a friendly kiss, or two. Not that I would have minded more, but I never pursued it.
As high school was coming to an end, I was receiving acceptance to several colleges, both local and out of state. Even though the Feds told me out of state could be arranged, both Connie and I loved the Pacific Northwest. With me being a 4.0 student, getting in anywhere I wanted was a given. I gave serious thought to Stanford, but decided on the University of Washington. With a campus nearby, and not having to commute across Lake Washington to the main campus, U W, Bothell campus was it.
Now, all I had to do was decide on a major. One night, as I finished signing up for my first classes, taking my required subjects for any major, I had something I had to get out in the open.
I had taken one of those DNA tests, and the results showed that my father was, indeed my biological father. My mother, on the other hand was not. With the results showing 50% Eastern European Jewish, and 50% Latin American, I had to finally have a discussion with Connie.
"Anything you want to talk about?" I asked.
Taking my hands in hers, I noticed a tear in her eye. She just shook her head. saying how much I had changed over this past year.
"Connie, you know how much I love and respect you, don't you?"
A slight nod.
"I want you to know, I took a DNA test, and got to results back."
"Oh, my dear Gracie, can you ever forgive me?" she said, through her tears.
"You are my mother, aren't you?"
Nodding, she slowly told me how she was one of my parents maids, from Mexico, and became pregnant by my father just after turning 14. It seemed as if my mother never wanted children, so she didn't mind it if one just happened to be born.
"They both agreed that if you looked more like your daddy, they would say it was theirs."
By then, both of us were sobbing, and hugging each other.
After a while, when we both were a bit more calm, I just smiled and told her, I always had some suspicion, due to the fact that even though she was 'childless' her boobs showed some signs of child birth. A bit of sag, even though she was still only 33. It was something in the back of my mind, for the past few years.
Taking her gorgeous face in my hands, I just very gently kissed her forehead. Then each eyelid. Then, once, very softly on her lips. We were both shaking, as she did the same to me. Both eyelids. My forehead. Then, very softly on my lips.
"You know we can't do this, my dear Gracie."
I nodded, and just hugged my mother, for the first true time.
"You do have to remember to call me Danielle, don't you?" I said with a mile wide grin.
Dinner was very quiet, with both of us deep in thought. We did quit a bit of smiling, and just touching hands.
"Please tell me your name."
"Conchita Lopez, so Connie always fit right in."
As my classes started, our discovery of my true parentage wasn't really discussed, but when we were alone, I did start calling her mother, or mom, but never mommy, because at 19 years of age that just didn't seem right.
Even though I was majoring in Political Science, I had every intention of going to law school. I was doing well in all my classes, and after some discussions with mom, decided to try dating.
There was a very nice young man in one of my classes who had been asking me for a date, several times, and since he seemed like a nice guy, I finally said yes.
Barry Cramer was his name, a year ahead of me, and sort of quiet. He took me to a nice family restaurant, and we seemed to be having a nice enough time. After dinner, while waiting for dessert, I just had a feeling that something wasn't quite right. I couldn't put my finger on it, but it started feeling wrong.
As we were walking to his car, he turned to me, while opening my door, and said sort of offhandedly, next stop my apartment. Stopping in my tracks, I told him I was going home and he could go to his apartment by himself.
As he moved closer to me, telling me we were going to his apartment, I reached into my purse and hit him with about 25,000 volts from the stun gun the U S Marshals had given me, along with instructions on how to use it.
I quickly called the Police, and my mother, who literally flew down to where I was, to make sure I was OK.
After filling out a preliminary report, Barry was hauled off to the local jail, and we went home, assured this asshole had nothing to do with our witness protection.
