Ice Heart Ch 03

*Disclaimer: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.

* * * * *

"That is your grandson," Sandra hissed firmly, returning Cris's angry glare with one of her own. "Yes I sent a baby gift to Freddy and I also sent a card too; by the way, Mr. Hard Ass, you owe me; I bought your grandson a five hundred dollar savings bond and a silver rattle with his initials engraved on it."

"Sandra, I swear to God," Cris growled through clenched teeth.

"Oh fire me, all right? Just fire me for giving a shit about you why don't you?" Sandra screamed at her boss, the man she loved almost as much as she loved her husband.

"I'll be back," he snapped and stormed out of the building before he did actually fire his right hand woman, the only reason the office ran as smoothly as it did.

She heard the roar and rumble of his motorcycle, then heard it speed away rapidly.

Highway 52 was perfect; there were few traffic lights to slow down a burning rage. He found a side street every now and then and opened the bike up, letting the powerful engine spit and snarl like a dragon underneath him.

Without realizing it, he came out on Evangeline Throughway, and then followed it down to West Congress Street to University Medical Center.

Fred Dumas did not look at the tall man that cradled a motorcycle helmet under his arm; he was absolutely entranced with Frederick 'Freddy' James Dumas, Junior.

If ever he had any doubt, any lurking notion that Nicole did not truly love him, the fact that she named her baby after him, made the baby THEIR baby chased them away. He resisted the temptation to rap on the glass of the Maternity ward nursery; Freddy was sleeping peacefully.

"He's a cutie pie, isn't he?" the man said to Fred.

"Yes sir," Fred said. "Yes sir, he is; he's mine. He's my son."

"Congratulations," Cris said. "Shame is, son, they grow up so God damned fast; then all of a sudden they don't even need you anymore. You're just a dumb ass, just a sack of shit don't know nothing but are expected to whip out the wallet whenever they want something."

"Yeah, well, I'm kind of hoping THAT doesn't happen," Fred admitted.

"Good luck, son, good luck," Cris said and walked away.

Ann Marie lugged a struggling, fussing Sophia and looked again. The man that stood and waited by the elevators looked so familiar. tall, muscular, dressed very nicely, even with a motorcycle helmet under his arm. The man turned slightly and Ann Marie smiled lightly; he was handsome, even with a bald pate and some gray in the wisps that circled the side of his head.

Then she froze; those brown eyes were Cris's eyes. The elevator door chimed open and Cris stepped in and then hit the button for the first floor.

"Your father was here?" she asked Nicole.

"Daddy's here?" Nicole asked, surprised, excited, and a little embarrassed.

"No, he WAS here," Ann Marie said, slightly disappointed.

She'd hoped to hear from Nicole how he was doing, what was new in his life. She kept in touch with Sandra; Harriet let her use the computer at work and Sandra was always very quick to respond to her e-mails, but Sandra was a master at not divulging any pertinent details.

She'd known about Nickie's suicide, even knew of Sandra's dislike of the flighty girl, but knew nothing of Cris's further descent into hardness. Until today, she did not even know that Cris had a motorcycle, as evidenced by the helmet under his arm.

Truthfully, she was hoping to hear that Cris missed her; that he wanted her back in his life. She was hoping to hear that she had been forgiven her little indiscretion, her mistake.

She gritted her teeth in anger as Sophia kept reaching out to Nicole, kept trying to get Nicole to hold her.

"Hey, there she is!" Hank called out from the doorway. "There's the girl made me a great grandfather!"

Ann Marie cringed. Ever since Momma's death, Daddy was drinking, a lot. As he entered the room, she could smell the alcohol sweating from his pores.

"Hi Grandpa," Nicole said and craned up for a kiss.

"So, you named him after me, right?" Hank asked, ignoring Ann Marie, Sophia and Fred.

"No, Grandpa, I named him after his daddy," Nicole said and brushed his hand away from her breast.

His touches, ever since grandma's death, while never blatant, were inappropriate. His hands always seemed to be brushing against her breasts, or her backside, even as her belly grew larger and larger. She vowed to herself she would not be leaving Sophia alone with the old drunkard.

It did not occur to Nicole that this was not a choice for her to make; Sophia was not her child.

"Aw, why'd you go off and do that for?" Hank playfully whined.

"Because I love him," Nicole declared.

"And don't you love your Grandpa?" Hank asked, placing his hand on Nicole's upper thigh.

"You seen the baby yet?" Fred asked, keeping his anger in check.

The man's drunken gropes of Nicole made him physically ill. His pretense that Fred, Ann Marie and Sophia were not in the room was a source of dislike, but it was the attempts to touch Nicole that really bothered him.

"Hmm? No, no, I haven't; they bringing him in here?" Hank asked.

"No, not for another hour or two; they'll bring him in when it's time for his lunch," Fred said and pulled Hank's hand off Nicole's thigh. "Come on, Mr. Campion, I'll show you Freddy."

"Hey, you breast feeding him, right?" Hank asked.

"Oh, my GOD!" Nicole gasped when Fred successfully pulled the drunken letch out of the room.

"I think I'm going to be sick," Ann Marie admitted.

"You?" Nicole asked. "It's not you he's got his hands all over!"

Ann Marie's opinion of Fred James Dumas changed dramatically. Yes, he worked at a fast food restaurant, as a manager, but it was still just a fast food restaurant. Yes, his car was a much older model, and his taste in both clothing and furniture left a lot to be desired, and he needed a haircut; he wasn't fooling anyone, he was going bald. But his devotion to Nicole and Nicole's happiness was very evident. His only wish was to make Nicole happy, and to protect her.

"So, when're you getting out of here?" Ann Marie asked.

"I wanted to ask you about that, Mom," Nicole said. "I talked with Fred and he agrees it's a good idea; Mom can you and Sophia come and stay with me for a couple of weeks, you know, until I can, until I know what I'm doing?"

"What?" Ann Marie asked. "But Honey, it's just a two bedroom, right?

"The couch pulls out into a queen sized bed," Fred said, coming back into the room.

"Mom, I need you; I'm really scared," Nicole admitted. "I mean, suppose what happened to Mikey happens to Freddy? I think I'd die if that ever happened and..."

"You sure?" Ann Marie asked Fred.

"Yes ma'am," Fred said. "I want you there and Nicole needs you there."

"Where's Grandpa?" Nicole asked.

"Sent him to get us some doughnuts from Meche's," Fred smiled. "My old man's an alcoholic too, can't say no to anything sweet."

"My dad's not a..." Ann Marie started to protest, and then stopped.

****

"Still mad at me?" Sandra asked him.

"Furious is more like it," he said and reached for the cup of coffee.

"Well, tough toenails, huh?" Sandra said and left the office.

That night, as he dressed for the cooking class, he slipped on the lime green pull over she'd picked out for him. He then pulled on the faded button fly jeans she'd insisted he buy, and the casual leather shoes she'd picked out. The rumble of thunder made him realize he was glad she'd insisted he leave the company car in front of his apartment.

She meddled in his life, made decisions for him that he would not make, did not want to make, and he was better for it.

"I better buy her a card or something," he said aloud.

The drugstore had a miniscule 'I'm Sorry' card selection, but he finally settled on the least mushy or poetic one.

Then he picked up a large pack of gum; she was always chomping on gum and he was always making her spit it out.

"I afraid you skip on us," the instructor groused when he arrived a few minutes late, dripping wet from the rain shower.

"Nah, I got too many avocadoes in my refrigerator," Cris smiled.

"Ah perfect for tonight's dish!" she laughed then launched into the explanation of the soup and its preparation.

****

Ann Marie watched as Fred held Sophia in his lap and showed the infant the sign language out of the book he had on the couch next to them.

"Happy," he said and showed her the movements, then manipulated her hands, her arms in the same way.

"Birth. Day," he said, doing the signs, and then doing the sign with her hands.

"You," he said and then tickled her as he pointed to her.

"What's he doing?" Ann Marie asked Nicole.

"Teaching her to sing 'Happy Birthday,'" Nicole said. "Her birthday's next week."

"Happy," Fred said, making the sign for 'Happy' again.

Ann Marie watched the young man and felt the sting of tears as he slowly, lovingly taught her daughter.

"He wants to be a teacher some day," Nicole confided to Ann Marie. "Taco Bell has this program; they contribute so much to a college fund depending on how many hours you work there.

****

"Ah, come in, come in," François Timmons smiled coldly as the two burly men hustled Tom Sampo into the cramped office.

Tom smiled, despite the swollen eye and split lip. He knew very well who Francois Timmons was; he had been sleeping with Greta Timmons, Francois's twenty five year old wife.

Francois had seen the six foot tall German beauty as he was on holiday on the island of Crete. Although she was only nineteen, and he fifty one, he lavished her with many gifts and paid all expenses for her and her mother and father and two younger brothers. They were wed before the week came to an end, before their holiday on Crete was to end. Every year, on the anniversary of their wedding, Francois flew her father and mother and two brothers out to Crete, where he and Greta would meet them and spend two weeks on holiday.

Six years later, she felt that biological need to be a mother, but Francois would not entertain the idea.

"I am too old," he said. "I do not have the energy to chase after toddlers; I do not have the patience to put up with crying and fussing babies."

So when she met Tom at the exhibition of the fall line up at her favorite couture house, she decided whether Francois liked it or not, they were going to have a baby. Tom was tall; good looking, and blond, whereas Francois was short and fat and what hair he had left was gray.

"So you have been enjoying the attention of my Greta, eh?" Francois asked mildly.

Tom smiled. He had known who Greta was, and who her husband was. Screwing the tall beauty had been a nice diversion, one he recorded without Greta's knowledge. He planned to show the dumpy, sniveling Francois Timmons the evidence, then ask for two million Euros to leave the blonde beauty alone, leaving Francois with some dignity.

After the beating Francois Timmons's goons had given him, though, the price to leave great alone had doubled. And if he would not pay, the Internet would be a good place to let the world know of Francois Timmons's humiliation.

"It is a shame what has happened to her, is it not?" Francois interrupted Tom's sales pitch.

"What, what do you mean?" Tom asked.

"Oh? You did not hear?" the old man smiled coldly. "A real tragedy. She was out at the nightclubs and staggered, too drunk to be out alone, you know, in front of a speeding car. No one saw the car or the driver; a hit and run, the driver sped away before anyone could get out there."

Tom's blood ran cold; he had picked the wrong beauty to seduce.

:Of course, we all understand, since her blood will be found on your bumper, your headlight smashed," Francois said, smiling all the while. "So it is only natural that you would commit suicide; you were very distraught over her death."

"You can't," Tom protested.

****

Happy birthday to you," they sang and signed.

Sophia chortled happily; she recognized what they were doing and joined in. Then she saw the cake with the one candle flickering and was transfixed by the flame.

"So what's the sign for 'make a wish?'" Ann Marie asked Fred.

"Don't know, didn't look that up," he admitted.

"I'll make one for you," Nicole said and blew out the candle for her sister.

It was just the five of them; Sophia, Nicole, Ann Marie, Fred, and Freddy. Since Sophia spent all of her time with Nicole, she had no peers to invite to her party. Since Ann Marie worked all the time, she had no friends with children that she could have invited. Fred didn't invite any of his co-workers, even though two of the girls did have children of their own.

Ann Marie thought briefly of inviting Hank. She decided, though, she didn't want him there. He would most likely be drunk, and would most likely ogle Nicole and try to grope her.

Sophia's eyes widened as she tasted the sweet icing and the spongy cake. She immediately opened her mouth for more and Ann Marie laughed out loud, a genuinely happy laugh.

Then she gave Sophia her bottle, which was filled with fruit punch. The only sweet taste Sophia had ever had was apple juice; the fruit punch was a taste sensation to her. She frantically, vigorously sucked at the bottle until it was finished, then signed 'More.'

"Yeah, she knows THAT sign," Fred laughed and took the bottle to refill it.

"Not too much," Ann Marie warned. "I want her to sleep sometime today."

"Okay, let's take a look at all these presents," Ann Marie said and she and Nicole got down on the floor to help the girl open the gifts.

She wasn't fooled; she knew the tricycle did not come from Cris, but from Sandra. The same was true of the wooden train set.

"Wow, that is nice," Fred said as he looked at the train set.

****

Maria Espanoza may be a wonderful cook and a wonderful teacher but her qualifications as a lover fell far short of Cris's criteria.

"True," he reflected. "I am judging her up against Nickie and Nickie was fifteen years younger than Maria, but..."

She praised his cooking as he prepared the authentic Mexican dishes and the custard dessert, but was highly critical of his kitchen and his apartment in general.

"All electric?" she sneered. "Oh no no no, gas. Gas is spiritual; electric has no soul, it robs the food of its essence."

"You are a grown man, with a good job, and yet you live like a college student?" she sneered as she looked around the one room apartment.

When she opened the door to the closet and peered in, Cris was ready to ask her to leave. The door was closed for a reason.

After all of her criticisms, after finding all the flaws and faults of his living arrangements, his lifestyle, she still wanted to make love.

You don't need a condom," she laughed and rubbed her lush figure against him. "Had my tubes tied."

"Uh huh," Cris said, not believing her. "But this is so much neater."

Her long black hair was lush and thick, as was the hair under her flabby arms and on her pussy. The hair actually ran down her thighs and up her belly to just under her breasts.

Ann Marie had been hairy, had sported a thick bush, but nothing like this and Cris did find it a bit of a turn-off. Even her anus was covered in a dense growth of hair.

"Oh, ah, you like the pussy, eh?" she laughed and cooed as he parted her thick hair aside and lapped at her very dry pussy.

No, he would keep the condom on. She wasn't making love with him because she wanted him, because she found him attractive, because she had a physical need. She was having sex with him as a form of control, as a 'reward' for good behavior.

Afterward, she lighted a cigarette and was shocked when Cris grabbed it out of her hand and threw it into the toilet.

"I hate the smell of cigarette smoke," he said, almost angrily as he returned to the room.

"Oh, sorry," she said, in a tone that said she was more angry than apologetic.

"You need to sell that motorbike," she said as she lazily played with is limp cock.

"Don't think so," he said.

"Oh, come on, it's dangerous," she said, looking up at him.

"Look, Maria," he sighed, getting out of the bed and pulling on his jeans. "It's late. You were a great teacher, it was fun taking your class, but I don't think we'll be seeing each other anymore, okay?"

"But, but," she sputtered. "What about, we just, what about this?"

She flung the covers back and indicated her pudgy, hairy body.

"What about it?" he asked as he pulled his shirt on. "Look, Maria, we ate, we fucked, you didn't enjoy it..."

"Oh but I did!" she protested. "You're a wonderful lover!"

"Honey," he smiled tightly. "I was married for eighteen years; I can tel the difference between a real orgasm and a 'hurry up and get it over with, my favorite show is on' orgasm."

She had misjudged him; in class he was always so malleable, so eager to follow instructions. In class, he was so non-assertive; she figured he would be the same outside of the class. He already knew how to eat pussy; she'd almost orgasmed from his tongue and did have a mild one when she thought of making him lick her hairy ass, making him clean her ass hole with his tongue.

As he drove his cock into her, she did have a mild orgasm at the thought of putting on her large strap-on cock and reaming his tight little ass, pounding it in and out of his bowels until he bled. She would make him eat her pussy when it was her time of the month, and if he had not put that condom on, if he was unlucky enough to get her pregnant, he would pay and pay dearly, but he had insisted on wearing a condom. In the future, he would learn, would learn he did not get to insist on anything.

But he was throwing her out, and telling her there would be no second time.

****

Bone deafness. The doctor, Mona Walberg was telling her it was bone deafness; the hoped for cochlear implant would do no good, would not restore any hearing to the infant.

"Poor Fred," Ann Marie thought as she loaded the infant into her car seat. "He researched it all, printed out all that information, located the doctor in DeGarde that specialized in Pediatric Cochlear implants; even offered to pay for it out of the money he was saving for college.

"Poor Sophia," Ann Marie thought as she looked in the rear view mirror at the child. "She'll be like that for the rest of her life, deaf as a doornail."

She almost didn't see the Harley chopper and the rider gave her a finger in outrage.

"Same to you buddy," Ann Marie thought as she watched the bike go past.

"Fucking female drivers," Cris thought as he turned off of Highway 19.

The bike was a beauty and handled very well. Best of all; his kidneys weren't bouncing around inside of his guts. He loved the Indian Chief, loved its power and even appreciated the fact that it was a rolling piece of history. But he had to admit, comfort had not been part of its design.

"Well, what you think?" George Farmer asked when Cris pulled back into the parking lot of George's Garage.

"Nice and soft," Cris smiled. "If it were wet, it'd be like riding a pussy."

"Uh huh, and if Big Mike was around, he'd beat your ass for saying that," George laughed.

"And he's asking seventeen, huh?" Cris asked.

He looked over at the other mechanic, legs sticking out from under the truck, sound asleep.

"Yeah, but between you and me," George said, looked at John Farmer, and looked away in embarrassment. "Been trying to sell it now for two months, probably take fifteen if it's cash."

"Tell him fifteen, cash," Cris said and got on his Indian. "Got my card, huh?"

"Yeah," George smiled.

"What's he selling it for anyway?" Cris asked before starting his bike.

"Old lady's in rehab, heroin, racking up a bunch of bills," George admitted.

****

"Why drink alone when you can have a little company?" Hank thought as he dressed. "Never did like drinking alone anyway."