Thank you for reading my story, I hope that you enjoy it. Love Mica xx, Yorkshire England.
All email comments good or critical welcomed. Rude or abusive comments may result in blocking. Please note that I am a British female, and I write in British English and vernacular, so for me a fanny is the correct term for female genitalia, a pussy is a pet cat, and the ass is a bum or arse.
I apologise for any typo errors in my story - I edit these myself, and I'm not perfect...
It was my daughter's birthday. My dead daughter's birthday, she had passed away just over a year ago from spine cancer, it had been a mercifully quick death, but a death non the less. What had made it worse for me was that it had come just a few weeks after my husband had been killed by a drunk driver.
Perhaps it had actually made it easier, all my grief rolled into one wallow of despair. I had been walking in town with my husband, he always walked street side, it was his thing, 'to protect you my love' he had said when I asked him why, 'Protect me from what?' I had asked, 'errant horses of course,' he had replied. He was old school.
The suddenly he was gone, a car had mounted the pavement, gathered him up and then crashed him into a post box ending my husband's life in an instant. It had happened on the day that Chrissie, my daughter, had told me of her cancer, how it was incurable, and how she could go at any moment. Perhaps we were distracted, I will never know, but the car just came from nowhere.
The driver was drunk, he was unharmed and will soon be released from jail where he is serving time for causing death by careless driving whilst under the influence. His wife will get him back, his children will get him back. My Jack is gone for ever, and now too is my Chrissie, her spine stopped carrying the messages to her lungs and she simply stopped breathing.
I stripped and went into the shower, I could not be maudlin, I had to live my life. I stood under the warm water as it cascaded over me, running over my breasts, down my stomach, dripping like a tap from my fanny. After I had finished, I stepped out and wrapped a towel around me. I decided I would visit Simon, my son in law, Chrissie's widower.
I sat on my bed and sent Simon a text message saying that I would be visiting this morning. As I sat drying myself with the towel, I got a reply from Simon saying 'ok'. What to wear was the question? Not that he would see my underwear, but I wanted to wear matching, it was worth it to me to make an effort.
I decided I would wear some of the underwear that I had saved for special occasions with Jack, it had lain unused in my lingerie drawer for too long. I selected a bustier bra in cornflower blue and matching briefs. The material was very lacy and almost sheer, were anyone to look, little would be left to their imagination. But that was okay, no one would be looking. I loved the way the bra covered my stomach, Jack used to get so excited when he realised I was wearing it.
Hold up tights and then a Chinese style blue silk dress. I looked in the mirror, I looked respectable. Jack had loved this outfit, he called me his 'Chinese hooker for later' when I wore it on our dinner dates. I added some simple four inch blue patent heels to complete the outfit.
I wasn't going on a date, I couldn't, my husband was dead, but I could still make an effort, and I made an effort, I doubted Simon would even notice, but that didn't matter, I wasn't dressing to impress anyone else, only to bolster me.
Time to go. I slipped on my driving shoes and put my heels on the passenger seat with my handbag and set off the Simon. He didn't live that far away, and really I should see him more often. He reminded me so much of Jack, very similar, and I had wondered when Chrissie first started going out with him, if she had gone for him because he looked so much like her Dad.
The traffic was light and I soon pulled onto Simon's driveway and parked next to his Lexus. I changed my shoes and went up and rang his doorbell. Simon took a moment and then the door opened.
"Hello Samantha," he greeted me, "come in, I'll put the kettle on."
I followed him in, and was pleased that the house seemed clean, no feisty aroma, and in the kitchen, no dirty plates or cutlery laying around. He flicked the kettle on and then turned to me, "coffee or tea," he asked.
"Tea please," I replied and watched as he got two tea cups and saucers down from the dresser. He was wearing a white oxford shirt, unbuttoned at the neck, and grey slacks. His feet were bare. His hair was neat and combed, and he smelled manly. It seemed he was keeping himself in good repair.
Tea made we went and sat on the small cane sofa in the conservatory, and I put my tea on the small side table before turning to him.
"How have you been?" I asked.
"Working and nothing else, today I couldn't work, I took the day. Chrissie's birthday, it is still too raw."
"I know, I felt the same, and I apologise, I should see you more. Perhaps you could come for Sunday lunch occasionally, say, first Sunday of the month? We shouldn't be strangers." I had always liked Simon, he seemed a perfect match for Chrissie, they had been so happy, and it had pleased Jack and I how happy they were together.
"Yes Samantha, that would be nice."
"Now, how are you in yourself?" I asked.
"How? Lost Samantha, I am lost, I lay in bed and turn to say something to Chrissie and she isn't there. I see a new restaurant open and go to ask her if she would like to go, only she isn't there. I miss her constantly, we only had five short years together, and then a month after the diagnosis and that bastard Cancer took my Chrissie from me, and so Samantha, I am lost."
That had been quite a speech. I looked at him and could almost see my Jack sitting next to me, it bought home to me how I felt, I too felt lost, I had lost my Jack and I too wanted to go out to restaurants with him, I wanted to wander round garden centres picking plants with him, but I couldn't. Simon and I were in the same boat, and it felt like the boat was named Titanic.
"Oh Simon, I know how you feel, only too well. You know, you do look so like my Jack, only younger."
"I am sorry, sometimes I forget that Jack was taken from you, I get lost in my own misery, I apologise."
"Don't be silly Simon, you have nothing to apologise for."
I picked my teacup up from the table and leant back into the sofa. I sipped at my tea and tried to relax, but it was difficult, it was a difficult day, my daughter's birthday, Simon's wife's birthday and she had been taken from us.
"You look so much like Chrissie," Simon said, "I was always happy to know what she would look like when she was older, it was a comfort, but now, those thoughts are irrelevant, pointless even, but still I see you and I see the older Chrissie that I can never now know."
"Oh, gosh Simon, I don't know how to react to that. She was my daughter, so I guess that she would look like me, only a younger me."
"If I half close my eyes when I look at you, you could be her, it is uncanny."
I was silent, I couldn't say anything to that. I wasn't Chrissie, I couldn't be Chrissie, no more than Simon could be Jack. I remembered how Jack would laugh as Chrissie told us about Simon stumbling in the supermarket and dropping a carton of eggs, "Clean up in aisle four" the Tannoy had said, and that had become a joke whenever anything was dropped, we would say 'Clean up in aisle four'.
"Clean up in aisle four" I said without realising I was voicing my memories.
"Oh Lord, I will never live that down," Simon said. Did I detect a smile, if so, that would be good, his mood was as dark as mine.
"I know, but really a whole box of eggs? That must have taken some cleaning."
"We didn't stay to see, we paid for what we had in our trolley and left as quickly as we could, and then when we got home, Chrissie was bouncing and she hugged me and we ended up in bed."
Oh. I didn't need to know that.
"Well, a happy memory for you then at least. When you hear 'clean up' I imagine you think of you and Chrissie in bed making love. I think of a mucky supermarket floor."
"She loved to take me to bed Samantha, always so wanting and needy of us, I loved to watch her dress you know, it fascinated me. I loved to watch her shower, how she cleaned herself in a specific order, her boobs, and then her armpits, and then her stomach and her crotch, her special fanny flannel doing its job."
Crumbs, it seemed my daughter was similar to me in that regard, perhaps that is how I had taught her to shower, I didn't remember. It was how I showered now, and I still had my special fanny flannel for cleaning between my legs. As I remembered I had a little tickle as if I were cleaning myself rather than supping tea in my Son in Law's conservatory.
"Happy memories Simon," I said as I put my teacup down, "I suppose I taught her how to wash, and so she would wash the same way I do."
"Gosh, I had never thought about that," Simon said, "that you would wash yourself in the shower the same way Chrissie did. I would sit on the loo and watch her, not using the loo I mean, just sitting there watching. She would do the same when I showered, she would sit and watch."
God, I did the same with Jack, "Don't forget to wash under your rim," I would say.
"Yes, exactly, that is what Chrissie would say."
God I had spoken my memory out loud again, I needed to be more careful.
"And then," Simon continued, "she would dry my back for me, ensuring that every little crease was dry and clean."
Jack had done the same to me, and me to him, it was a shared intimacy, one it seemed my daughter had shared with Simon.
"I loved to watch her get dressed," Simon said. "How she would do up her bra catch and then twist it around and drop her boobs into the cups, pulling each boob up so that it sat properly."
"I still do the same," I said, we women do that.
