Salt & Vinegar

This is a continuation of the Salt & Vinegar series, and it needs some explanation up front rather than just the added notes at the end.

This chapter reveals Lena's past which involves child sexual abuse. This is not described explicitly and is essential to the story in that it explains some of the hints and threads - which you may have already picked up on if you are a series reader - that have been woven into her character development so far. Given this context, I have deliberately

not

written any graphic sex scene into this story.

So:

If you are a series reader and are interested in the characters and their development; please read on.

If this is the first story in the series you are looking at, you may wish to go back and read from the beginning of the series. Or at least from Chapter 5 which contains enough of a summary (as the series reboot) to get you familiar with the characters and plotlines.

If you are reading only for a titillating sex scene, you may be disappointed. There isn't one.

----------

LENA

I knocked on the classroom door. The male teacher who opened it took a step back.

"Hello, can I help you?"

"I'm Lena McIntyre, Ericka's mom. I think you're expecting me?" I put out my hand.

"Oh. Oh, yes, right. Of course. Sorry about that. You're not ... who I expected. Sorry, that sounded rude." He smiled apologetically, desperately trying to keep eye contact and not look at my cleavage. I sniggered to myself but replied politely.

"No problems. You've probably gathered I'm not Ericka's birth mother, but she's now part of our family."

"Sure. Come on in, we're real happy to have you."

Ericka was doing a photography unit in her senior Arts class and had suggested to her teacher that I could come and do a guest spot to offer an industry perspective. In typical fashion, Ericka had failed to tell me and the first I'd known about it was an email from him thanking me for my generous offer and that the class would really appreciate it.

'Oops, sorry', had been the only apology from Ericka herself, followed by, 'But you'll do it, right?'

I'd got a big hug when, after a bit of grumbling, I'd said 'yes'.

I followed the teacher into the room.

"OK, listen up you lot! Guest lecture today courtesy of a professional photographer. I expect you to be attentive and respectful - yes, I'm looking at you Dwight - as I'm sure she is going to give you some information which will help you with your assessment piece for this subject. Please welcome, Lena McIntyre."

I scanned the room. It looked and felt like a fucking high school all right. The usual mix of adolescent hormones jammed together in some vague hope of an educational outcome. Roughly even mix of boys and girls. Pretty diverse group. Let's see how this shit goes down, then.

"Thanks and hello everyone. I'm Lena McIntyre and I am a freelance photographer. I am also Ericka's Mom."

"No fucking way!"

"Dwight! I said

respectful

!"

"Yes, way", I replied. "As you can tell I'm not her birth mother, but we

are

family."

I felt like I needed a fucking sign for that. Poor Ericka was riding it out. Perhaps she'd told her friends, but it was obviously news to the rest of the class who were now looking back and forth between us curiously.

"OK, so this is an Arts subject and you're doing a photography element. So rather than go into detail about cameras and equipment, I thought today I'd share with you some basics about technique and composition which are directly relevant to your assessment work. Nothing heavy, but I think you'll find it interesting. I'm also expecting discussion and contributions. Any questions before we start?"

"Yes, Miss. Are you, like,

actually

a professional or you do just take some pictures and shit?" This from the young man, Dwight, the self-appointed class jackass.

"Dwight! That's your final warning!"

"No, it's OK. That's a fair question. Yes, I am a professional and I work under the name Lena Sanchez. You can Google me or find my profile on most of the socials."

A few kids reached for their phones.

"Holy shit. She

is

fuckin' legit! That number of followers is dope!"

The teacher gave it up as a lost cause. He gave me a shrug and a look which I interpreted as, 'Well, you did volunteer ...'. Volunteer, my ass. Time to take control, then.

"OK, we've now established that I am, in fact, Lena 'holy shit' Sanchez

and

a professional photographer

and

Ericka's mom. Well done, everyone."

General laughter. But some fucking morons just can't help themselves.

"But what's your cup size, Miss?"

Other than sniggers from his mates, the rest of the class fell awkwardly silent.

"Dwight, you

will

apologize for that and see me after class!!"

I held up my hand to forestall the teacher. I had to kill this now or the rest of the session would be a write-off. I picked up the teacher's coffee mug from his table. I walked casually up to Dwight's desk and got right in his face.

"I have a cup about the same size as this, except mine has 'Don't Fuck With Me' written on it. I know you think size matters, but you really don't have to compensate so hard." And I glanced meaningfully down in the direction of his jeans.

The class roared and he went beet red, shrinking down in his seat.

"And while we're at it", I said, walking back to the front of the room, we are

not

going to be having any discussion about nude photography; artistic, naturist or pornographic. So, if you boys want to pass this subject, start applying your brains not your balls. Clear!?" And I eyeballed the group of boys in the back row.

The teacher gave me a nod of respect, and we started into the lesson.

----------

ERICKA

Lena was ... awesome.

I was mortified by Dwight. He is

such

a jerk! But Lena handled him and his stupid friends brilliantly.

She was calm, confident and in control. I wish I could be like her.

I looked around the room as the lesson progressed. As promised, Lena kept it light and mostly visual. Comparisons of well-known images. Got everyone to discuss why some images work and others don't. Used the feedback to illustrate composition theory. The class engaged well, and I think most of us got something out of it.

I glance over at Tanaka. He's paying avid attention. But not like the boys in the back row who are ogling Lena. He's taking this seriously and studiously making notes. He is such a nerd. A cute nerd though. Gah! I turn back quickly as he notices me looking.

Damn, why did I do that? He's a friend. I don't have to be embarrassed about looking at a friend. I should have just smiled. Now he thinks I'm weird. Great.

You're overthinking this, girl. He probably doesn't think anything about you. You could have smiled, poked your tongue out, cried - whatever - and he would have only been mildly curious ... maybe. He's got the EQ of a lump of cheese.

I sigh.

Forget Tanaka, focus on the lesson. Lena's probably saying something important.

----------

LENA

'Well, well', I think to myself.

Ericka watches one of the boys and then turns away quickly. She frowns to herself and then makes a visible effort to pay attention to me. What she doesn't see is his return glance. So, mutual interest, huh? I remember those years. I feel so fucking old! I can't help it; I have to play a bit.

"So, that pretty much wraps things. I hope you've all got something out of today's session. To help with your assessment I encourage all of you to look at, and analyse as we've discussed today, a wide range of images from different sources. There are galleries and museums in the Bay Area - some of them free - which contain quality photographic exhibits. And before you ask, yes, some of them include my work. One collection even has a picture of Ericka."

Ericka looks mortified.

The boy looks up. Bait taken. But I'm interested to see how he'll respond. He raises a hand. Well, he's got manners - unlike some of these young fuckers.

"Thank you very much, Ms McIntyre for your interesting and informative lecture today."

I watch half the class roll their eyes. So, this is obviously normal and he's not just brown-nosing.

"Would you be able to recommend some galleries please?"

I wonder. Is he assuming I'll recommend the ones with my own work? There is a quiet intelligence in his eyes, but no cunning. Perhaps it is just an open question. I recommend a few, some of which have my stuff in them and others that don't. I don't tell him which. He thanks me politely. One of the girls saves him the trouble of probing further.

"And which exhibit is Ericka in, Miss?"

General laughter. Definite interest from the boy. Ericka is giving me a death stare. I pretend not to notice.

"You'll just have to ask Ericka and I'm sure she'll tell you if she wants. She may even take you to see it."

Ericka's mouth drops open. Her friends start ribbing her. The boy looks thoughtful.

The bell rings and class is out. I hang around a bit afterwards answering a few other questions and talking with the teacher. The boy makes a beeline for Ericka who does a woefully obvious impression of I-am-so-fucking-into-you-but-trying-not-to-show-it. The boy has a little more control - in his facial expression at least. But his body language is like every other teenage male flustered by a pretty girl. They seem to be on friendly terms even though they're not sure what to do about their hormones. I have to work hard not to grin.

Ericka usually catches the bus but, seeing as I'm here, we drive home together. I figure, 'who's the young buck you wanna fuck?' is the wrong question as an opener - probably the worst question altogether - so I open with something tamer.

"How'd it go? Was that alright today?"

"Yeah, it was good. Thanks - really - for doing it. Sorry Dwight was such a jerk. I should have warned you about him."

"Don't sweat it. If I had a Hamilton for every teenage boy that's been interested in my tits ... well, let's just say we wouldn't have a small apartment on the edge of Chinatown."

She rolled her eyes. Unsure whether it was at my crudity or indicating a shared view of young males. Or both.

"Did you have to mention that picture of me though?"

"Sorry, hope you didn't mind too much. It is a good one though; nothing to be embarrassed about."

"It's not embarrassing, it's just ... you know ... "

Embarrassing. Yeah, I get it. But I can't help myself.

"You don't have to worry if no one asks you about it."

"Bit late for that."

"Your friends want to see it?"

"Nah. They just think it's funny. Tanaka wants to see it though."

Hmm. So, this Tanaka isn't just a 'friend'?

"You tell him where to find it?"

"Said I was going to the gallery next week and he could come if he wanted."

Well, look at you. Sly little thing. It's the sort of thing I might have done. Actually, I wasn't that subtle. Go for the kill had been more my line. Skip the flirt; straight to the fuck.

I sighed. Our Ericka was growing up. I really did feel fucking old!

----------

JUSTINE

"I feel so fucking old", said Lena.

We were lying together in bed. I was enjoying a warm post-coital glow.

"Felt alright to me, babe. That tongue of yours did great. Unless you got some hairs caught in your dentures?"

"Bitch." Then a sigh. "Ericka makes me feel old. Those kids today, fuck me!"

"You know you're only in your early thirties, right?" I laughed.

"Still fucking old."

"Honey, with what you do to me on an almost nightly basis I can guarantee you are not old." And I kissed her for emphasis.

Another sigh.

"C'mon, babe. What's got you down?"

"Just seeing the kids and being able to read them like an open book. Seems like not that long ago we were their age. Now we're old enough to be their parents. What happened?"

"We grew up, sweetness. We're now the mature, enlightened adults providing inspiration and guidance for the next generation."

"Fuck that shit, Jus. You maybe; hardly me."

"Did you fail to note the heavy sarcasm?"

"Bitch."

She fingered one of my nipples idly, lost in thought. I was happy for her to think as long as she liked while I enjoyed the attention. But not too long or I was going to get seriously horny again.

"Ericka likes a guy in her class."

"Oh? She tell you?"

"Don't be silly. Just watched them, that's all."

"Serious?"

"Nah. Early stages. They're still figuring it out. Probably haven't admitted it to themselves, let alone each other."

"And you got all nostalgic, reminiscing about your own youthful romances?"

"Fuck, no. I didn't do romance. Quick fuck behind the sports shed with the guys was more my style. Or in the toilets with the girls."

Oh, Lena. Why am I not surprised.

"Well, we've moved on from that at least. You can give me a good fuck without having to sneak around. Of course, you can also give me a quickie wherever and whenever you want", I said with a dirty smirk. And I gave her a kiss with a lot of tongue.

What happened next wasn't a 'quickie'. And Lena was definitely not old.

----------

JUSTINE

"Justine, can I ask you a question?"

I was browsing socials on the sofa after dinner. It was just Ericka and me tonight. Lena was out at a post-shoot function.

Ericka curled up on the other end of the sofa and hugged a cushion. I gathered this was going to be more than just 'a question'.

"Sure. Go for it."

"How did you know ... I mean, how did you and Lena ... get together?"

She knew how we met so that obviously wasn't what she was asking. I remembered the conversation with Lena a couple of weeks back after she'd done the guest lecture at school.

"Is there someone you like?"

A long pause.

"Yeah. Like, I think so? Maybe?"

"And you want to know how you feel about this person. And if they might like you too."

"Yeah." She sounded a bit tentative. Not sure if it was the subject, her feelings, or general awkwardness about raising this with 'mom'. Maybe a few other questions were in order.

"What do your friends think?"

A shrug.

"Some of them have boyfriends. A couple have had sex already. I don't really like it when they talk about it. It feels like ... I dunno ... sort of shallow? Like sex is a thing you do just for bragging rights. It should be more than that. Like what you and Lena have."

A surprisingly mature view for a fifteen-year-old. I remembered my own teenage flounderings. I don't recall thinking so much about the emotional merit of a relationship. Just having a relationship guaranteed a certain status in your peer group. And sex was a next level commodity. You were way cool if you'd 'done it'.

"Have you spoken with Lena about this?"

"No. Lena might go all crude on me."

She might, but she probably wouldn't. Lena can read people better than anyone I know. She wouldn't make that mistake if she saw Ericka was serious about something.

"Well, how do you feel about them?" I deliberately used a gender neutral. I wasn't sure I should admit to knowing - or assuming I knew - that her interest was a guy.

"About Tanaka? Well ... I like him. As a friend. He's fun to be with. He ... get's me, if you know what I mean? I just keep thinking about him though. I think I want more than just 'friends'. He's sorta special to me?"

"Have you talked to him about it?"

Incredulity. Then a pitying look. I'll take that as a 'no'.

"How do you think he feels about you?"

"I ... don't know? I

think

he might like me."

"What makes you think that?"

She was about to answer when she stopped and narrowed her eyes at me.

"Hey, you're asking lots of questions but not giving too many answers!"

"That's what parents do."

I got an eye roll.

"Yeah, I know it feels frustrating. I'm doing it deliberately - not to make you feel frustrated - but because I'm trying to help you sort through your feelings. I can tell you about my experiences, but that doesn't mean that you should expect to have the same ones. Or that your emotional responses will be in any way the same as mine. We're different people. By asking questions I'm just trying to help you sort out, well, yourself." I smiled at her.

She chewed that over for a bit.

"OK, yeah, I get it. So, what was the question again?"

"What makes you think - or feel - that Tanaka likes you?"

More thinking and a little frown. She was so cute. I had to remind myself that this was serious stuff for her and stop myself from chuckling.

"It's sort of ... a vibe? Like, he seems to smile more when he's with me. He does little things for me that he doesn't have to, and he doesn't do for his other friends. He even holds doors open for me. I mean, who does that!?"

Practically no one anymore. This kid has some old-school manners.

"Sounds to me like he considers you at the very least a good friend. So, what do you want to do? Try to get more of an idea how he feels about you, or go out on a limb and tell him how you feel about him? Keep in mind that boys can be a bit clueless and that 'subtle' may not work. Your third option is just letting things rub along as they are and see where they go."

I watched her as I suggested the three alternatives. Interest, horror and a little head shake respectively. So, she wants something more but is afraid of rejection. Pretty natural. Having the courage to confess your feelings is something experienced adults struggle with. Not easy at all for a teenager in the throes of her first crush.

I thought back to my first junior high relationship. Neither of us really confessed. He just sort of grabbed my hand and I was shocked enough to let him do it. By mutual admission - or rather, mutual lack of objection - we became an 'item'. I suddenly had some sympathy with Lena. Fuck, I felt old!

"I'm gonna give that some thought. Thanks, Mom, that really helped. Love you." And she crawled over and gave me a hug before heading back to her room.

Wow, I think that's the first time she's called me 'Mom'!

It had been four-ish years since Ericka came into our lives and she'd quickly become a part of it. We'd continued with the fostering arrangement for a year before we all decided we wanted to make it permanent. We'd adopted her, but it felt more like having a third adult in the house than having a young teenager. She was just so mature and responsible. We treated her like a young adult and that seemed to work well.

The 2020 lock down had been a bit rough on all of us. I could work from home OK and was quite comfortable doing so. But Ericka missed her friends. Lena went spare. Tensions got pretty high on occasion, and I don't think it was much of a secret that the only way to relieve it was to give her a good fuck. We tried to be as discreet as possible but, well, it's a small apartment. Ericka never said anything. But I did catch a knowing grin from time to time when she thought we wouldn't notice.

She'd successfully applied for, and was accepted into, Gateway High as she'd wanted and was well and truly on track for getting into college with the aim of furthering her art studies. She was smart, self-motivated and disciplined and it reflected in her grades. She was also cute as a button and I was completely unsurprised that some boy in her class thought she was pretty special. We did too.

She'd always called us Lena and Justine. We weren't her birth parents and didn't pretend to be. She'd obviously had a very strong relationship with her real parents, and we wanted to respect that rather than try to replace it. Yet it rocked me when she called me 'Mom'. I think it was subconscious. But if it was a measure of how much she trusted me and the strength of our relationship, I would happily accept it. Yep, it made me feel 'fucking old' (thanks Lena) ... but also really, really happy.