Editor: WhiteWave48
Patrice Mueller couldn't suppress a resigned sigh as she looked around the living room. It wasn't that it was dirty; it was that it looked fine. The whole house looked fine: a tastefully appointed exemplar of a white bread middle class dwelling. It was tidy, warm and cozy without a hint of ostentation.
Kind of like how Patty (as everyone except telemarketers called her) felt about herself. She was pretty in a maternal sort of way, with a soft ivory face specked by freckles and framed by cascading red curls -- although some dye was necessary to keep the ever encroaching gray at bay. Maybe she was a bit more "full figured" than she liked, but in the loose clothing she generally favored, some extra curves helped more than they hurt. Besides, she had always been the kind of extraverted "soccer mom" who had naturally drawn others into her orbit. Everyone who knew her was accustomed to seeing a smile on her full lips and a welcoming twinkle in her deep brown eyes. Pleasant and attractive, but not extraordinarily so, she was just like her house. Just like her life.
With no more tidying up left, Patty wasn't entirely sure what to do next. She had burned up all of her excuses to get out this week: shopping, bridge, a few visits and so forth. All that was left was an abyss of free time. George was off working, the kids were all out of the house permanently or else doing their eclectic "stuff" on which they steadfastly refused to elaborate, and all the household affairs were in order. She had to wait until someone made it home and then try to squeeze some conversation out of the poor soul.
Patty remembered her college days when reading Betty Friedan had been all the rage. She had been horrified by the images Friedan conjured up of legions of housewives sitting quietly at home and asking themselves "Is this it? Is this all there is?" When she had started working Patty had sworn never to join their ranks, throwing herself against the glass ceiling with abandon. People around the office had all expected big things from her; she was one of the generation that was going to shatter the gender gap.
Then she and George had Eric. That was alright; some maternity leave and then a little day care and everything would be fine. Then came Matt. Then Charles. Then Daniel. She been hesitant to start using protection with her husband because she really wanted another girl around the house, but George had just kept serving up Y chromosomes. Eventually she had given in to the voice of reason and got on the pill, but not before it was amply clear that four boys would keep her too occupied for a job. She complained, of course, but had secretly relished being able to spend so much time with them, just watching as they grew, developed their own personalities and just became themselves. And it had kept her busy, busier than her job ever had.
Now Eric was off working and Matt and Charles were in college. Daniel was finishing up high school and was too busy for his mother. So here she was, wondering, "Is this it? Is this all there is?"
After giving another quick glance around the room, Patty plopped down on the couch and picked up the book she'd been reading. It was some trashy Harlequin, where the heroine couldn't stand the rakish cad (British! How exciting!) who was courting her until their fabulous sex straightened her out. Ah, what women's liberation had become! Patrice had considered having an affair once, just to see if she could still muster that kind of passion, but the idea had been fleeting. She was entirely too responsible for such things. Besides, she doubted that there were that many dashing English nobles waiting to sweep forty-something housewives off their feet.
Patty idly fidgeted with the wedding ring on her finger, a reminder that she was in now, for better or worse. There wasn't any reason to go out and compete with pretty young things. Like that Katy girl that Daniel was going out with. Patty had only met her a few times, but had been more than a little taken in by the girl's gregarious nature. And she had the kind of earnest cuteness of which Disney Channel stars are made. Well, if boys went for girls like their mothers then Patty was more than a little flattered by her son's taste.
Patrice drifted back off that tangent of thought, returning to her novel. The eligible young lady was telling the beguiling duke what a charlatan he was, even as he pulled her into his arms. She struggled a little, he persisted, his lips bearing down on hers. Shocked fury yielded to passion as she surrendered to him, letting him ravish her...
As she gave herself to the words on the page, Patty sensed a familiar tingle, almost a lightness, between her legs. She could feel her nipples press into the cup cups of her bra. She squirmed a little on the couch, pressing her thighs together. Oh what the hell, she hadn't had a good run at herself in a while and it wasn't like she was putting something off. Her fingers deftly slipped under the waistband of the sweats she wore around the house, then plunged into her panties. She sucked in a short breath as she found her clit, navigating little circles around it. Patrice could put Yo Yo Ma to shame at playing her own cello, and soon found a nice smooth rhythm that had her chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. She could feel the flush spreading over her face as the delicious tension built in her. If this was all there was left for her, maybe it wasn't so bad. Was it?
******
Katy Yun was pissed. Pissed at Mrs. Hollenbeck for the 'B', pissed at her mother for making such a big deal over it and pissed at herself for breaking down and storming out of the house. It was the beginning of February and, and here she was standing on the street in a sleeveless top and jeans, crying her eyes out. God, she must have looked like a reject from Jerry Springer!
It had been stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. One of those impulsive teen moments where things just made sense at the time. Where to go now? She couldn't just go back inside, let her mother see her slink back in defeat. She couldn't take that cold, knowing stare of victory, of superiority. She also couldn't just stand there freezing.
First thing first, she needed to get a grip on herself. After a few sniffles, she managed to bring her tears under control. It wasn't the first time she'd butted heads with her mother, but it was definitely one of the worst.
"If you didn't spend so much time running around with boys!" her mother had screed like a fire and brimstone preacher, her finger jabbing into Katy's face. Something in Katy had snapped, and she yelled at her mother to shut up. Almost in slow motion a cacophony of rage, shock and thousand other emotions ran across her mother's face. Katy wished she could have taken the words back, but it was too late. Her mother had unleashed a torrent of English and Chinese, switching between the two almost at random. Katy hadn't caught everything, but she was pretty sure "slut" and "disgrace" were repeated fairly often. Soon they were both yelling over each other and at some point Katy started crying. Then she started storming out. And then there she was, standing on a street corner sobbing.
It wasn't that her mother had come down on her about the grade; that Katy could understand. She had been disappointed in herself over it. It was the way her mother had to drag Daniel into it. She went out with one boy, and a nice one at that, and her mother thought she would become prostitute or something. Why couldn't her mom just let her live a little like a normal parent?
Then it hit her. Daniel only lived a little over a block away, she could head over there. Was he working on the paper today? No harm in checking at least. She set off down the street.
******
Patty's fingers sped up around her clit, she could feel herself on the very verge of release. She forced herself to slow down, to savor it. She'd been close a few times, but this was her treat to herself, she wanted to bask in it. One hand held the book, now forgotten and open on her belly, while the other teased the top of the cleft between her labia. God she was so wet. How long had it been? No matter, she was getting close again. She'd finish this time - it would be glorious!
"Ding," the doorbell chimed at exactly the wrong time.
Patty thought she could finish off. Just work a bit faster... Almost there...
"Ding," the bell insisted.
