Ryan sat in a chair on the deck outside the Point Reyes coffee bar, looking at the colors of the new day. Her hair was still wet from the makeshift shower she had taken at a gas station on the ride north. Inside, the owner was speaking a bit too harshly to a new kid, who was on his second try of making a cappuccino for a waiting customer. Ryan glanced over her shoulder at his furrowed brow, smiling to herself, remembering those days of not getting it right. We all learn through repetition, she thought to herself. She took one more sip from her mug, looking at the dregs of the ground espresso at the bottom. She thought of her mother, who insisted coffee grounds at the bottom of cup was an indicator of poor service. Ryan closed her eyes, thinking it had been a while since she had seen her. She took out her phone and dialed slowly, half hoping there wouldn't be an answer.
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Alex took a hit from her cigarette and admired the view from the bedroom window. People bitch about the rich, but some of these places are nice. You get what you work for...or what you inherit in some cases. Her eyes roamed over the crown moldings, Victorian artwork, maple floors, custom furniture. She looked at the sleeping body beneath the sheets beside her, a few brunette locks splayed about the pillow and comforter. She had a vague recollection of the night before: a smorgasbord of carnal acts in Twin Peaks, walking to her truck and being asked for a light by a woman in a Rolls, and ending up here in the Presidio.
She dropped her cigarette into an empty wine bottle by the bed, and reached over slowly, removing the sheets from the mystery woman's shoulders. Alex placed her hands on her shoulders, firmly but softly. She touched deeply, closing her eyes, rubbing softly until she heard a soft moan. Her fingers trailed down the woman's back, and she arched in response. Alex smiled, smelling the sweetness of perfume tinged with sex. She kissed along the woman's shoulders, rolling her over onto her back. Her breasts, almost too firm, yielded hard nipples, which she kissed and sucked. Her thighs parted as Alex kissed along the woman's stomach, stifling a laugh when spying a black widow tattoo on her mons. She licked the stubble of an oft-groomed strip of hair, nestling her tongue along and inside parted legs, wet lips. The woman kept her eyes closed, grinding her pelvis slowly as Alex took what she wanted.
A cell phone rang, and the woman cursed briefly in a slight English accent. Her climax building, she told Alex not to stop. Alex lapped and sucked at her clit and lips feverishly, two fingers twisting and turning inside the woman's wet pussy. Her breath quickened, the grasp on Alex's hair intensified, and she orgasmed while sitting up quickly to pinch one of Alex's nipples. Alex yelped with surprise and pain, the woman clutching her hand to stay inside her as she rode out the wave of pleasure, giggling at her stunt and collapsing onto the bed.
Alex looked down at her own chest. "That's an original way to say good morning," she said to herself. The woman was listening to the cell phone message and now dialing.
"Yes, Peter....I've had some...family matters this morning. I won't be in until 11 or so. Oh, yes, things are just fine. It's my...niece. She's dropped by unexpectedly. Alright, thank you." She was very British, and a good liar.
Alex looked back at the woman, giving a wry smile. She returned Alex's gaze without expression, grabbing the harness and cock, pushing it toward Alex and getting to her hands and knees.
She looked over her shoulder at Alex, who was holding the accoutrements. In a thick British accent she snapped, "Well don't just sit there. Give Auntie one more good shagging so we can get on with our lives."
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Ryan wended the Triumph along the sidewinding roads of Inverness to the A-frame cabin where her mother and step father lived. The house looked the same: sunbleached, the deck's finish peeling off, the old rod iron patio furniture that nobody used. She approached the door, which opened before she made it up the steps.
Barbara looked smaller, her eyes drooping more in the corners. There was always a sense of disappointment in coming home, though it was never spoken.
She made an effortful smile, opening the door wider as Ryan approached. "It's good to see you, Ryan." She in turn hugged her mother, a noticeable stiffness in the two small frames.
As usual, Barbara busied herself making tea. Ryan sat in the living room, taking in the familiar smells of floral candles and cat litter. "How is Carl doing?" Ryan stood to look at the pictures on the mantle.
"He's keeping busy as best he can," her mom replied, adding details about his auto parts business and his latest procurement to his classic car collection.
Ryan's eyes gazed over the pictures: her mother's friends, her mother and Carl on their yearly vacation in Hawaii, and many pictures of Ryan from infancy until late elementary school. Nothing thereafter.
A cup of tea was handed to her gingerly on her left. "Carl and I stayed at the Hyatt on Maui this year," her mother stated. "It was beautiful! We didn't even have to leave the hotel grounds, as they had everything you could ever dream of right there!"
Ryan took the tea, sipping and focusing on the taste, the heat of the tea to prevent her emotions from coming to the surface. She smiled at her mother, and listened patiently to the features of the Hawaiian hotel and the business seminar they attended.
