This is a long winded romance between two women with a dash of supernatural elements(reincarnation). As with my other stories, there is a strong focus on plot and the characters drive the story forward. While there is sex, it isn't the focal point.
Huge thank you to Wax Philosophic for allowing me to borrow one of my favorite characters from Mistress and Charlotte's lives. If you haven't read any of the ongoing series featuring these lovely ladies yet, I highly recommend it.
As always, I love and thrive on feedback. So, whether you loved it, hated it, or something in between, please leave a comment or shoot me an email. Thanks for reading!
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Josephine Daniela Vasquez – Present Day
The farmer's market was packed, and I threaded my way through the dense crowd in search of a stand with berries. The sun baked the area and I was grateful I chose to wear a tank top and cut-off shorts before leaving the house. There was a gentle breeze floating in the air but it was akin to a desert breeze, offering absolutely no relief from the late August heat. I finally reached the produce stands, finding a long table with various berries strewn across the surface in their tiny square green boxes. Blackberries, peaches, nectarines, and a handful of overripe blueberries, which I knew were just starting to be out of season. "Can I help you?" the young woman standing behind the table asked in accented English.
I smiled and nodded. "Yes, I'll take a crate of blueberries and a bundle of spinach, please," I said. She was pretty, her dark brown hair hanging over her shoulder and her skin a dark bronze, much like my own.
After gathering the items that I requested, she placed them in my reusable bag and took the cash I was handing her.
"Hablas español?"
she inquired.
I chewed my lip before I grinned,
"Si, pequeno, lo siento,"
I apologized honestly, letting her know I did but only a little. She handed me my change and my bag. We chatted amicably about the weather and the city. "Gracias," I said before leaving the stand. You might be surprised how pleasant it is to have a simple conversation in one's first language. It's the little things, I tell you. I left the area, heading toward the sidewalk to make my way home. I struggled with the weight of my bags, lifting the load onto my shoulder. My Latina heritage is obvious and the interaction at the farmer's market was not the first instance of someone thinking I knew fluent Spanish. Let me explain a little.
My mother came to the states when she was pregnant with me, fleeing from the tiny town of Jecori in the Mexican state of Sorono. She never got into much detail of the actual journey to America but did tell me it was hot. She eventually admitted to me that she wasn't pregnant when she began the trip, which always makes me cringe when I think about it. As first generation, she struggled to find proper prenatal care and I feel fortunate to be alive as she was only seventeen when she had me.
She made her way to California, crossing the border illegally and obtaining work where she could until I came along. Finding childcare is difficult in general but with the added issue of being in the country illegally with absolutely no familial support, my mom had to rely on the assistance of other migrant workers she had become close to. She was able to continue working after I was born and support our two-person family, traveling up and down the west coast for jobs.
It wasn't a bad childhood; she loved me very much, taught me good morals and always put my wellbeing first. We were reasonably happy until she was detained for being unable to prove her citizenship. That's when shit hit the fan.
"Hey!" a voice pulled me from my reverie as I hurried through the crosswalk. Once I reached the curb, I turned to see a woman following me. She was absolutely stunning, long blond hair shining in the August sun, her alabaster skin stark against the little royal blue sundress that hugged her body. She held my wallet in her hand.
"Oops, thank you so much," I said as she approached me, handing me my wallet. The closer she got, the more beautiful she became. Her hair held little kinks, the wavy ash locks laying over her shoulders and her emerald eyes catching mine. A splattering of dark freckles lay on her soft cheeks and petite nose. Her fingers brushed mine when I took it, and my breath hitched as I felt a strange tingling where her skin had touched mine. Her eyes widened for a brief moment before she relaxed and smiled, causing me to wonder if she'd felt the same thing.
"No problem. I saw you drop it at the farm stand." Once I had my wallet, she gave me a little wave and took off down the street, her curvaceous hips swaying. Meh, she was probably straight anyway.
I headed in the opposite direction toward the house. It sat on a slanted road facing downtown and the three bedroom home was comfortable. When I stepped inside, one of my two roommates sat on the couch, hands thrumming the controller of his video game console. "Sup?" he offered, his brown eyes unmoving from the screen in front of him.
I shrugged, even though he couldn't see it because he was too engrossed in his game. "Nothing got some veggies and crap from the market." I headed to the kitchen, putting the produce in the fridge before grabbing a soda and plopping down beside my roommate.
I tried to watch whatever Alejandro was playing but I couldn't figure out what the hell was going on. "What's the point of this?" I asked.
His dark brows pulled together. "I shoot the bad guys," he explained. "You going to the club later?"
I knew he was referring to the gay club down the street that I had yet to check out. It had been roughly four months since we'd been living together and I'd grown used to his prolonged screen time, with work and play. Plus, he invited a lot of men to his place. I had a copious amount of ear plugs in my bedside table. I'm pretty sure his sister took the bottom floor room for more than the private bathroom. "I guess I could check it out."
He finally took his eyes off the game and looked at me, waggling his brown eyebrows. "There'll be a lot of hot
chicas,
" he sang, nudging me with his elbow. Alejandro Flores and I had more in common than just our sexuality and the color of our skin; he and his sister, Ana, were second generation from El Salvador, their parents seeking refuge from the violent street gangs flooding their city and a corrupt government.
When I turned eighteen, I ditched my latest foster family, heading up to Seattle, Washington from Long Beach, California.
Being only in my junior year of high school, I reenrolled myself in one of the public schools in the city. I lived in a shelter for some time until I found work and an amazing program that offered housing assistance for teens such as I was. I met Alejandro and his older sister when I started school, the three of us quickly becoming friends due to our shared experiences.
They were the closest thing to family I had aside from the few migrant workers in California who helped me cope after my mother's passing. Well, they tried. I wouldn't allow the help and suffered for it. I'll get back to that sob story later. Some time before I graduated high school, I was offered a scholarship for being a second generation Mexican-American, with the added bonus of being a former foster child.
It was enough to cover my schooling, which is a lot more than most can say and I chose physical education. It came as a surprise due to my few brushes with the law and for being a general fuck up. I guess the organization saw something in me, a glimmer of hope and promise. Whatever it was, I was more than thankful to have the opportunity.
I slapped the arm of the couch as I stood. "I guess I'll go take a shower if I'm going to tag along with you. Can't be smelling like a sweaty mongrel if I want to find myself a lovely lady to dance with."
"I hear some people like that smell," he snorted, eyes back on the video game in from of him.
I chuckled as I walked up the stairs to my bedroom. It was so nice feeling a part of a family. Our little trio was close knit and I loved Alejandro and Ana as if they were truly my siblings. It had been almost fifteen years since my mother passed and I finally felt like I had a true family again. Alejandro specialized in computer informatics while his sister worked at the high school. She actually recommended me and helped me land the job. I had been a substitute teacher floating around in Seattle, having trouble finding a steady position.
It was tiresome, as all I wanted in that point in my life was a little predictability. I moved around enough in the first part of my life and I was ready to have a stable job at the very least. Ana found me such a job, a spot opening and she helped me secure that position.
I stripped, eager to wash the sweat off my body from my ritual morning run and the overall grim from the heat outside. The shower washed over me, easing the muscles sore from my run and the hike I took the day prior. I washed my body hastily before stepping out and wrapping in a towel. I headed to my bedroom, my mind on what I was going to wear to the club.
"You going like that?" Alejandro asked, his shoulder leaning against the threshold of my bedroom door.
"Uh, real funny Al. Now, get out so I can get dressed." I shooed him from my doorway, closing it before turning to the closet. I grabbed some clothes and tossed them on my bed, throwing my towel over the back of the computer chair in my room.
