The New Mom In Town

*

Friday afternoon, at her ninth-grade daughters' swimming practice, distracted, checking her phone from time to time; then, an update in the group chat "Baking Moms of Pine Springs High":

See u all at 'The Flamingo' room 218 in 2 hours!! No condom tonight. We have a surprise waiting [Heart] [heart] [kiss] [kiss].

A map link. She checked and wondered if she had enough time. Richard would be staying late at work tonight. Need to drop off her darlings at their coastal-view house first. Ten past five. No time for me to take a shower. Sweated a little but shouldn't smell too bad down there.

Mom's got some business to take care of, order pizza for dinner & I'll be back in no time! Naturally they were thrilled to be without her. Don't burn the house down - though secretly was wishing it did. Watched her happy hares leap across the front yard and disappear behind the red door.

Westward: inland, chasing the dying sun.

Interstate: born again in the fast lane. A newfound recklessness.

The edge of the city: entire neighborhoods slowly rotting into nothingness.

Strip clubs: naughty neon-lights of purple blue and pink drifting past the rearview mirror.

Seeing ghosts: lurching, loitering, grey, dream-walking on the barren streets.

She drove on.

Finally arrived. Motel Flamingo: a shabby two-story establishment with walls appropriately painted in the bright color. Its little parking lot was almost full; amidst the taped-up spare-tired junks, a few fancy German cars sandwiched in between. She recognized the plates and knew who they belonged to. They were all here, waiting for the night to come, waiting for the surprise that was her.

She carefully parked her silver Mercedes near the red BMW: Katy's mom's. Her daughters had mentioned Katy as a friend. Proud to think they were so quick at making acquaintances at their new school! Not a bit like their mom. Wouldn't have known a single human being here had she not joined this Baking Moms group. How eagerly they took her onboard, by just eyeing her up, when she knew not a thing about baking!

Up the stairs, room 218, the suite at the end of the corridor, near the ice machine and trash bins. The yellow-brown curtains drawn in. Loud chatters and silly laughters inside, but no other funny noise yet. Saw her own dim reflection on the window: face of a still gorgeous middle-aged woman, but dressed rather plain, rather shabbily. Gave up on her public appearance since having the girls.

Hand raised in midair, suspended: what's stopping her? Afraid now is she? Isn't this what she wanted so badly for so long? But what about the consequences? She stood there, wavering back and forth.

Mrs. Kelly Jennings.

Richard's-loving-wife Jennings.

The fabulous Lucy-and-Grace's-mom Mrs. Jennings.

The 38-year-old redhead who still got the habit of greeting strangers in grocery with an old-fashioned grin not knowing they wanna fuck her sideways Jennings.

The flat-chested but fat-clit, shy-tempered but easy-climaxed, conventional model wife but craving for deviant sex, the newest pet from the Pine Springs School's hottest baking moms Jennings.

Whorish Jennings.

Whore. A whore.

To be or not to be, that's the question.

**

Because she could not open the door, it kindly opened for her. Welcome to the den of rich and depraved white whores like you, Mrs. Jennings.

Once in the room she shall never forget that terrible odor of weed, booze, and old carpet, of men's sweaty armpits and women's expensive fragrance. The air-conditioning was not on or had been broken. In the living room, young black men wearing in only boxers and socks, and among them, being held and groped and kissed at, were a few white women, all of whom members of the Baking Moms.

She had met all of them before and even held a Mother's Day bake sale at the school together, so it was quite a shock to see them now rid of their modest outfit of the day and instead dressed in hookers' work clothes. And they seemed slightly drunk, flirting and teasing their young male friends, grabbing at their members under the tight boxers and felt them grow big in their small hands. She counted about twenty men and only six women, that was, including herself.

She was standing not far from the entrance, her boring jeans and sneakers almost adolescent-like, still thinking of retreating, of going home. But she was already a prey stumbled into the den of wolves, and the show must go on. She felt a little dizzy. Someone was speaking to her.

"Mrs. Jennings? Or should I call you Kelly?"

It was the one running the group, Mrs. Sharon, who called herself Lizzie. Lizzie was quite a few years older than her by the looks, with plump buttocks and a pair of enormous breasts that were starting to sag a little in her thinly strapped bra.

"It's fine either way - though I prefer just K."

She said in a dwindling voice and wasn't sure if her answer was caught in its entirety.

"Alright, K. I understand you must feel a little tense now, but let's go get you dressed up and then start your introduction."

Lizzie smiled at her and gestured towards the bedroom further inside the suite. On one of the twin beds were her costumes: a full set of lingeries in white, with a pair of stilettos in matching color. There were even satin gloves, pearl hairpins, head veil, and a white lace garter - almost fit for a wedding.

"We always assign different colors to each mistress, just a fun role-play habit we indulge in, and since this is your first time with us, I thought it most adequate to have you wear the color of purity and innocence."

She paused for a moment, allowing K to take it in.

"But mind you, honey, this is the last time you'll ever be clean!"

At this delightful commentary Lizzie's amber eyes seemed darker, like that of a wild mare loose on a prairie.

***

In a fairly short time she was made ready.

The heels were admittedly a little uncomfortable, for she rarely wore them, but everything else was extremely satisfying. She did not like being looked at by another woman, but Lizzie was not being weird in any way. In fact, she was extremely good at what she did, and even managed to put on a full makeup on.

Glancing into the mirror, K found both a virgin and slut:

the signs of her age well hidden behind the makeup. With the eyeshade and liner she looked alert and mesmerizing, her flame-red hair all pinned up into a clean bun and gleaming beneath the veil, her bare neck and frail shoulder blades in cool exposure, the lace garter belt gripping her waist tightly and pulling the silky hosiery up her thighs, two legs' couture further perfected by the heels' pointed sharpness; the thong was just a small piece of garment that lodged deep into the wedge of her buttocks and barely covered her mons pubis, leaving much of her overgrown ginger curls outside the thin concealment. Because of her flat chest she did not wear the bra. Lizzie praised her for having very neat nipples and it made her cheeks burn.

She had not looked so pretty for more than a decade. So it would be her second wedding, a rainbow bridge from wifery to whoredom.

K and Lizzie emerged from the bedroom door to greet the other mistresses and their guests. Outside, the last rays of sunlight were receding, and the room looked eerily blue. The party had gone on while they were inside, but still only skirmishes, perhaps a few blowjobs, nothing serious, and the men almost couldn't wait any longer with their raging boners.

Lizzie started to introduce her to the women. Even though they had all known her in school, in this motel suite it was all together a different universe, and their roles had changed, so a proper initiation was needed again. With the veil over her face blurring her vision, the immediate world around K seemed different, the people distorted and transformed. This was a séance with former chaste wives of men, a blacked sabbath of phallic worship.

"This is Mrs. Carter, and here you may call her sister Drew."

Lizzie gestured to the woman in blue. Her daughter Michaela was in tenth grade. An unremarkable woman in daylight, she had been transformed by her hosiery and looked rather glamorous, her round face rouged by the booze and pre-sex excitement.

"This is Mrs. Laurie, and you may refer to her as sister Heather tonight."

She was dressed in a sheer red pantyhose and shiny fuck-me boots. K couldn't recall whom her kids were, but she looked to be around the same age as K, who came with dirty blonde hair and must be an American Sweetheart in her own youth.

"And this sister is Mrs. Lombardi, who goes with the name Juliette."

Dark hair, dark eyes, olive skin, and most delicate nose and mouth: an exemplary Southern Italian beauty, not fading a bit at her age but only enhanced by the dark green lingeries she's in. Like K she did not take to shaving, and her long curls below were burgeoning in full lavishness. Sister Juliette's boy was two grades above her daughters.

And the remaining one was naturally Mrs. Amanda Zielinska, aka Katie's mom, by whose red BMW she had parked. Amanda was sporting a bright purple set, including a pair of fishnet and a leather choker with a metal ring that seemed to be utilized often. Of all the moms Amanda made the best cookies and was always the most popular at the sales.

As to Lizzie, she was excused from introducing herself, but K was right to notice how sister Lizzie's all-black set contrasted with her own very white one, almost like that of an demon and an angel.

Through the introduction, K had to be held a little by Lizzie as she was unsteady in her 10-cm stilettos. Everyone's burning gaze on her had produced a wondrous tipsiness that was as real as a cup of wine, and it made her less self-conscious, a state which she was otherwise always more or less in.

"Now, honey," Lizzie turned to her.

"It is your turn to introduce yourself to us and our guests. As our newest member, tonight's session will doubly serve as your initiation. After this long night you will know no shame, no bound of morality. Sex is freedom. You will be freed from this false shackle of modern womanhood and become the timeless Whore, in touch with your own heart and loins. Be it motherhood or wedding band, nothing will stop you from finding, again and again, that forever truth of climax. So, sister, are your words ready? And before you start, would you kindly lift your veils both above and below, and show us how you look and act as a finest specimen of our sex."

K cleared her throat, readying herself to attempt at this little speech. A speech about herself. She lifted her face veil with her left hand and gently pulled the white thong down her thighs with the other; her curious pubic grove, flaming red, was thus revealed in its entirety.

****

K lay on the beds that had been joined together to form a single battlefield. Someone was between her clenched thighs licking her, making her ready. Another put his member into her mouth and she instinctively started to suck. Work, you idle housewife, work. Not a moment's respite. Someone was playing with her smooth stockinged feet in the white stilettos.

Around K, other mistresses found ways to entertain themselves. Everyone was talking about her ginger crotch-fur. They all loved her. The night was young, with plenty of time to whore around. She was invited to drink plenty, and smoked the very first joint in her life. Soon her vision started to shift and turn, the chemistry kicking in, taking K's mind out of her weary skin and into some distant and strange astral plane.

Disused Fountains A National Disgrace

Over the decades most city square fountains lost their essence as vibrant hubs of urban life devolving into mere traffic nodes. Now, however, there is a renewed focus on reclaiming these public spaces as the beating hearts of their respective cities. However, with the expansion of the city centre and increased commercial activity, the area around the fountain became congested, making it difficult for people to appreciate this monument and its plaza. Unfortunately, this congestion also led to vandalism, littering, and encroachment on the fountain's surroundings. 'The primary objective of restoring the fountain was to revive its lost grandeur. The major concerns were the soiled facades, defaced and painted statues, restoration of missing limbs, and the defunct plumbing system of the fountain," said the expert who oversaw the fountain's restoration.

How To Repair A Clogged Faucet

The first sign of an issue is generally a decrease in water pressure. If the flow from your kitchen or bathroom faucet isn't what it used to be, the aerator is probably plugged. An aerator can clog slowly as mineral deposits build up, or quickly after plumbing work loosens debris inside pipes. Usually, a quick cleaning solves the problem. If your aerator has a fancy shape, finding a match won't be as simple, but with a little searching, you can usually find diagrams of your faucet and order a new aerator. Wrap the jaws of a pliers with electrical tape and unscrew the aerator. Close the stopper so the small parts can't fall down the drain. Once everything is clean, reassemble the aerator and turn on the faucet to test it out.

New Airport Temporarily Closed After Tunnel Flood

Airport officials said they became aware of the leak in the tunnel connecting concourses V and C at approximately 8:30 p.m. on Friday. They said it was primarily impacting the south end of the tunnel. The flooded area was closed off and passengers were directed to walk around the water. A utility corridor was also opened for those who wanted to avoid the water. The tunnel was reopened just after 9 p.m. Friday. Passengers who needed special assistance were able to use a bus bridge that was established. The airport is planning to soon open a new walkway between concourse A and B which for use in case of like emergencies. Some travelers said it was just another reason to be frustrated with a brand new airport they felt was poorly planned.

Pregnancy After 35: Know Your Risks

The biological clock is a fact of life. But there's nothing magical about age 35. It's simply an age at which risks become more discussion worthy. First of all, it might take longer to get pregnant. You're born with a limited number of eggs, and as you reach your late 30s, the eggs decrease in quantity and quality. What's more, a multiple pregnancy becomes more common as the chance of having twins increases with age. This is because hormonal changes could cause the release of more than one egg at the same time. Lastly, the risk of miscarriage and stillbirth increases with age, due to either preexisting medical conditions or chromosomal conditions in the baby. Expert research suggests that

*****

Midnight bell struck. Unread messages/moans and missed phone calls/crises. Mrs. Jennings not available right now/her holes actively used. Please dial later/insert again.

The rest started to party in the trashed suite. And they were dancing, blonde and black, the board floor beneath the carpet slamming under their weight and rows of white teeth grinning hideously over their trophy.

Among them all was Lizzy and she was naked dancing, her small feet lively and quick and now in double-time and drawing unto the men, her body corpulent and bronze and hairless, like a dame of a great bordello.

She never slept, she said. She said she'll never lie.

She kissed one in his cheeks and cha-cha backwards and stroke another's cock and laughed deep in her throat and she was a great favorite, this Mrs. Sharon.

She tossed around K's lace garter and the lunar roundness of her own fat hips swayed amidst the sweaty black torsos and she swung about and took possession of more manhoods in her hands and she stroke and made a blast, two blast, dancing and jerking all at once.

Her feet were light and nimble. She never slept. She said that she would never lie. She danced in light and in shadow and she was a great favorite.

She never slept. This Mrs. Sharon. She was dancing, dancing. She said that she would never lie.