Me and Mom on Date Night
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Single Mom - Date Night free porn video
It was Friday, mid-morning. and the five-nine, slender, yet curvy Dr. Rochelle Stewart had been off since Wednesday night at 10:00 p.m. She was due back on duty Sunday morning at 6:00 a.m. Today, she was taking it easy while the boys were at school. The only item on her itinerary was an early afternoon appointment with her ther****t.
The cleaning lady, Mirella, had left only ten minutes earlier. She employed the Ecuadorian to dust, sweep, mop, vacuum, and tackle the baseboards every two weeks. Once a month, she had the domestic whiz to give the the three-and-a-half bathrooms a deep clean. She did not touch Coree or Jere’s rooms. Rochelle was adamant those be kept in decent order by her sons.
Mirella was a saint. She usually brought some kind of culinary masterpiece. Today, she shared roasted ‘cuy’, or guinea pig, empanadas with spinach, peppers, onions, and queso blanco. Rochelle had tasted one and it was incredible. The sweet, old woman left a tin containing eight of the treats. “For boys,” she had indicated. Rochelle tried to pay her, but Mirella would not accept a dime more than the $65 that negotiated at the beginning of their relationships. When she tended the bathrooms, she collected a cool, crisp Benjamin.
Rochelle’s phone rang. It was Lynton. “Hey, sweetie,” she answered.
“How are you doing, stranger,” he teased.
I’m well. Just been busy with the boys’ football schedules.”
“Yeah! I know how that is. I wanted to come see Jere play next week. And Coree tonight. They’re home games, right?”
“That’ll be great! They’d love to see you. Can I meet you at the stadium?”
“Sure! I can’t wait to see you!”
“Me too, baby girl! I can come over and grill some steaks after.”
“Sounds like a plan, but remember Coree will be home late from the fifth quarter.”
“Yeah, baby. Bye!”
After a brief nap, she fixed a salmon and spinach salad. The light, but hearty, lunch had a simple dressing made with E.V.O.O. (extra virgin olive oil), tarragon, white wine vinegar, and garlic. The refreshing dish gave her a needed boost of energy. She dressed in a three-quarter-length sleeve, mid-length London Style, shift dress. The roomy garment moved with her body, but didn’t make her booty disappear. It was colored with wild prints in various shades of blue. She added a pair of navy, quilted Liz Claiborne ballet flats. She picked up and purse and chose the BMW to drive.
She pulled up outside the offices of New Path Counseling Services. The firm was staffed by a couple of masters-level licensed professional counselors (LPC). The owners were Drs. Don Powell and Suzette Ellis-Powell, a married couple. He had a Ph.D. and practiced clinical psychology specializing in marriage, families, and individual c***dren. She was a board-certified psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner holding a doctorate of nursing practice. This enabled her to prescribe medication if absolutely necessary. The boy’s met with Dr. Mister, as they referred to Don, for their individual sessions. He also did their family group sessions monthly. Dr. Misses, or Suzette, handled Rochelle’s therapy.
She settled into the comfortable chair in the shrink’s office.
“How are you, Rochelle?”
“I’m well, doctor. And you?”
“I’m fine. So tell me. What’s up?”
“Well...Since I last saw you I went down for my grandmother’s funeral.”
“How was that?”
“It was fine for the most part.”
“Meaning?”
“My mom as always was trying to do too much to make everything perfect. She was the main one that took care of my grandmother. I won’t see my uncles and aunts didn’t help at all, but one in particular was pretty much absent unless it was something where she was going to get public recognition. Anyway the funeral cost five grand and my mom paid for it all. She did at least have a life insurance policy on her for fifteen-K. But no one else chipped in a dime. One uncle and Aunt split the cost of the plot, burial, and headstone.”
“Also, my mom got my brother a bereavement pass. He was able to attend the service. That cost her $650 for the transportation and off-duty cop. Then, she wanted him to have a suit to wear. So, I stepped in and told her I’d pay for it. The whole outfit was less than $250 so I wasn’t worried about the money, but I think she should keep the rest of the insurance money for herself. She was grateful.”
“Anyway. The absentee-daughter-slash-my-aunt, starts bragging about how nicely she and her siblings ‘put momma away’. I mumbled something under my breath. Then said it louder that she didn’t pay for a damn thing. It got a little rowdy and a drunk cousin was ready to fight that witch’s son-in-law. My mom was embarrassed. I felt vindicated, honestly.”
“Okay,” pondered Dr. Ellis-Powell. “That’s powerful. This sounds like it’s been there for a while.”
“Absolutely. My G-momma was hateful to all her grandk**s except for Carol Ann’s c***dren. There was always a clear distinction in how she treated them versus us. I know part of it is resentment towards my grandmother and my mom for making us suffer through Sunday dinners with that woman. I’ve been trying to change the brain associations using the eye movement therapy you showed me. It has worked for some of them already.”
“Excellent work,” Suzette commended her. “How did you feel about seeing your brother?”
“You know, doc, I’ve forgiven him. I’m at peace for what he did. What kills me is that there’s still this unspoken, mildly evident tension between us. And, when we hugged, we embraced a little longer than everyone else. I’m scared I’m attaching to him out of regression.”
“That’s interesting. Let’s explore. Tell me what specifically makes you feel that way,” she inquired.
“It’s just like...you know...how is voice lingers after statements like he going to take care of me when he gets out for putting money on his books.”
“Is he aware and clear that your intentions are pure in assisting him financially during this time.”
“I have stressed it numerous times.”
“Okay, perhaps he feels guilty still, but unresolved secrets haven’t freed him to move on.”
“You mean telling my mom.”
“I don’t know. I do remember that you believed your mom to have suspected something. And, maybe your brother feels the same.”
“It’ll kill her if I tell her. She’ll blame herself. And, you know, she can play the victim. I don’t have the energy.”
“I’m not saying you must, dear. I’m saying forgiving her for it is necessary. And, that having it in the open may potentially remove the taboo and thus hidden desires.”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“Very good, Ro. That’s all I ask. How’s the sex life,” the advanced nurse practitioner queried.
“I’ve been pretty active. A couple of times a week. I’ve been getting into a lot of role play where the guys call me ‘faggot’ and act like I’m young,” the mother of two confessed.
“Alright. Any new partners?”
“No. Just with the few I’ve had over the past six months.”
“How is that affecting you?”
“I feel great when I do it. But, I feel low afterwards. Then, I want to do it again. I don’t like having sex with the boys at home, but I have. And Coree’s at that age when he’s naturally ready to explore sex. I don’t want my behavior to set a bad example or cause at-risk behaviors.”
“Have you asked him about it?”
“No.”
“Are you?”
“I want to. What do you think?”
“I think you have to educate your sons on healthy sexual behavior and appropriate conduct with potential partners. It’s up to you to decide how much you discuss about your personal sex life. I wouldn’t suggest going into great detail. Maybe ask him what he thinks a healthy intimate relationship looks like for people his age and also for folks like parents. That’ll give you a chance to gauge where he is mentally and guide the conversation from there.”
“Great idea, Dr. Sooz,” Ro shared. “There’s a guy who is trying date me.”
“Trying or is,” the psychiatric provider inquired.
“He’s doing his best. I met him after work one night at a diner. We had a great conversation. We’re going to Big Sky steakhouse tomorrow night.”
“Fancy. What’s his name?”
“Hugo. Dr. Hugo Alazar.”
‘Nice name.”
“Actually, yeah! His dad is Ethiopian and his mother French. He grew up in Toronto. Lived for two years in Morocco.”
“He sounds like quite a connoisseur.”
“He speaks three languages fluently.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I like him. He’s interesting company.”
“You said ‘doctor’. What exactly does he do?”
“He’s a cardiology fellow at St. George.”
“Okay. Where will he fit into the sphere of intimacy.”
“I’m still getting to know him.”
“This is progress. This is the first actual date you’ve had in a while.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“It wasn’t?”
“I mean. It was...Hell, it was a date.”
“It’s okay to enjoy and to feel happy. You’re worth it.”
“I know. I’m just going to keep getting to know him and take it slow.”
“Okay. ANd what about the current sexual partners. How do they fit in?”
“I’ve been seeing less of them since Hugo and I went out.”
“Do you talk on the phone.”
“Not really.”
“Maybe try that between dates. Texting doesn’t truly allow chemistry to be explored and experienced.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Good! How’s life in general with the boys?”
“They’re good overall. Got into a tussle last week. Had to handle that. Oh, we went to Mammoth Cave. I forgot how Coree had reacted to man who expressed clear, interest in me.”
“How did that go,”
“He was short, curt, bordering on rude.”
“Or...was he just protecting mom from an unworthy leech of a man? His perspective in this is important. You might even start the sex conversation with that interaction. Have him dissect it.”
“True. Jere is killing it in football. Grades are decent. I had to set a teacher straight, but I think she’s on board since I showed out.”
“You didn’t ‘show out’ did ya, girl?!?!?” Suzetted was now in ethnic mode.
“Oh, but I did. And I let little miss lily white girl know I wasn’t some basic, uninterested mother.”
“Get ‘em together, girl. We’re almost out of time. Let’s look at next month’s schedule.”
Rochelle drove back home to prep for the evening game. Just as she entered the corporate limits of Rawlston, she made a left onto Stonewall Jackson Road. Her destination was a local eatery called ‘Montesi’s Pizzeria’. Her younger son was a fan of the bacon double cheeseburger specialty pie. It was a blend of fresh bacon, seasoned ground beef, Montesi’s pizza cheese mix (mozzarella, provolone, Parmesan), and cheddar cheese on top of traditional red sauce. Rochelle purchased a large 14-inch from the Heat & Eat freezer.
Jere arrived at home a little after his mom since he had no practice today. The booster club was hosting a catfish nugget dinner for the team and cheerleaders so Coree was still at the school.
Rochelle greeted him with a hug. Sheesh, he was a solidly built k**. She shared with him that she had spoken to Mrs. Owens and they agreed to let him spend the night on Saturday. When he asked why, she explained that she had plans with friends that evening and Coree was taking Layla on a date. Jere seemed unfazed.
Lynton pulled up and walked inside carrying light-brown, plastic grocery bags. He set the bags on the kitchen island and said, “Hey y’all! How’s it going?”
“Pretty good, Mr. Lynton,” Jere said eating his fourth slice.
“I’m well, Lynton. How was your day,” checked Rochelle.
“It was good. Thanks,” replied the forty-eight year-old as he set up the ingredients for his steak marinade. The main part was Lawry’s Steak & Chop Marinade. He added a lemon juice and lime juice. Then, a couple dashes of Worcestershire sauce and some minced garlic. He finished it by shaking in dried rosemary and thyme. He mixed the concoction together.
Rochelle had washed out the large aluminum pan he brought. He placed the ribeyes and one T-bone, specifically for Rochelle, who didn’t care for the fattiness of the other cut, into the container. He covered it with foil and loaded it into the Samsung, fingerprint resistant, black stainless steel, french door refrigerator with metal cooling draw and freezer underneath,. She called out, “Google, what is tonight’s weather forecast?” The voice replied that it would mild with chances of rain.
She disappeared to her room to get changed. She grabbed a clear vinyl poncho on the way out. She returned wearing and red fitted summer-weight sweater, black denim skinny jeans, and red Tory Burch ballet flats. The physician reached into her Kate Spade billfold and pulled out a dub which she handed to her son. He smiled at the thought of having twenty buck in casd to spend at the concession stand. “Don’t spend it all on junk food, buddy,” she added reading his mind.
“Yes, ma’am,” gushed Jeramiah. “I may buy something for Tucker and Dez.”
“That’s fine, sweetie! And very kind of you,” she encouraged him.
Rochelle knew that Tucker, a white k** on Jere’s team, came from a family that was evidently living below the poverty line. His family resided in Cotton Trail Court - a manufactured home community. It was filled with all manner of meth addicts and crackheads. It was suspected there was more than a little prostitution going on there. His mom and stepfather lived together with Tucker and his three siblings. The patriarch of the household was once an over-the-road trucker who was now drawing a disability check. The man was also addicted to that “Tina”. The mother waitressed at a mom & pop diner not far from home when she could. She, too, used. His older sister turned tricks on occasion. Outside of his school breakfast and lunch programs, he was not always sure when he would eat again. For that reason, Rochelle generally packed an extra granola bar or helping of food in Jere’s lunch cooler.
At the game, Lynton and Rochelle watched from the bleachers seated near Chara and some of her teacher friends. He sat behind her on a row that was filled with the ladies’ husbands and boyfriends. Coree got put in during the third quarter and he scored a TD. The Mustangs were victorious winning 17 to 7. Rochelle kept a keen eye on Faith the whole time. She was eager to find out.
Ro, Lynton, and Jere piled in the vehicle to go back home.
The mature suitor fired up the grill. He added the steaks. To go with them he had decided on asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. He enjoyed playing house with the beautiful woman and her sons. They all seemed to adore and respect him - a feeling he rarely felt at home. It seemed his daughter only called to ask for money and his wife had been frigid for some time. He was in heaven, if only temporarily. They ate while having light conversation about the game, school, and the validity of cultural appropriation.
After Jere retired to his room, Rochelle led Lynton to her boudoir. She undressed and pushed him onto her soft bed. She climbed on top of him and them stuck her titties in his face. He motorboated them. She could feel his dick hardening. She reached down to free the little soldier. It popped out with a salute.
“Damn, I missed you,” whispered Lynton.
“Missed you too, daddy,” Rochelle confessed.
“Come on and let Daddy get in that asspussy!”
“Yes, sir!” She placed the tip at her anus.
“Ooh,,,yeah, girl! That pussy feel good!”
She rocked back and forth slowly working his girth into her. The more she took, the more she felt an escape of euphoric proportions. Her body tingled as he thrust gently jamming his love tool up her warm, wet booty hole. He pulled her face to his. They kissed as she was grinding her ample round cheeks on his thick dick.
“I love you, Rochelle,” he called out.
“I love you too, daddy,” she reciprocated.
The man with the slight beer gut flipped her on her back. He slammed into her. She whimpered as he made love interspersed with sprints of a****listic fucking. “Unh, unh, unh, unh,” was all she could muster. The passionate symphony of their bodies continued with vigor. He placed her legs on his shoulders to go deeper - his nutsack slapping against her. He enjoyed how she held on to him. Hers finger digging into his back. Her palms clenching his firm, hairy butt cheeks. Tickling his sweaty scrotum. She was his sexual soul mate.
Eventually, Lynton could hold it in no more. His exploded with a rage so red it lit the room on fire. He shouted, “Agggghhhhh!” He rolled on his side.
They lay there spooning until he woke around 3:00 a.m. He kissed her on the forehead and she opened her eyes. “I need to go, baby girl,” he lamented.
“Okay, baby! Love you,” she smiled.
“Love you too!”
She walked him to the door. There was an immediate piercing, pulsing noise. Coree must have set the alarm when he got home. “Bye, sweetie,” she said before sprinting to the control panel to disengage the security system, Both boys were awakened.
Coree heard the alarm go off. He snuck to grab the Easton aluminum baseball bat he kept beside his bed. He opened his door quietly and crept towards the common areas of the house. It was dark and he didn’t want to turn on any lights.
Jeramiah was jolted from a dream about riding on a rollercoaster seated between his buddy Dez and the oldest sister from the TV show ‘black-ish’. He picked up an orange-and-black, 12-pound medicine ball.
The brothers met in the hallway. Coree signaled for his younger brother to wait. He heard faint rumbling in the kitchen. He moved quickly with light steps. He flipped on the light and yelled, “Freeze, muthafucka!” Jere burst out with the exercise ball ready to catch the assailant off guard.
“Boys,” yelled a startled Rochelle. “It’s mom!”
“Oh, my bad, ma,” Coree sighed.
“Sorry,” Jere slumped.
“No need to apologize. I just wanted some air and when I opened the door the alarm went off,” she doctored the truth. “What’s all this about?”
Jerry, who could barely keep a secret, admitted, “We have a plan in case somebody breaks in.”
“Bro,” expressed Coree with frustration.
“It’s okay guys. I used to do the same thing with my sibling when I was a k**. You do know we’re safe here at home though, right?”
“Yeah,” they agreed unanimously.
“Well,” the adoptive parent thought. “How about some grilled cheese.”
“Can I get some ham on mine,” Jere inquired.
“Of course, baby! Any requests,” she looked at the older brother.
“That sounds good,” Coree consented.
“Perfect,” Dr. Stewart said. “Will you guys get the bread, cheese, butter, and ham?”
Rochelle grabbed a large cast iron skillet and sprayed it with olive oil cooking spray. She heated it as the boys assembled four sandwiches. They figured their mom would have a half of one leaving one-and-a-half of them to split after their first.
They ate while standing around the island. Jere teased Coree about his date. The embarrassed sophomore hit back with, “At least I can get a girlfriend.”
“I can get three tomorrow,” Jere boasted.
“Guys,” Rochelle alerted them to her waning patience with their banter.
The food was devoured and each went their separate ways to sleep.
On Saturday morning, Rochelle slept in until 7:30 a.m. Not too late by most standards, but for her it was unusual. She did not want to bother the boys. They had one more time to do Mrs. Mary’s yard work. She didn’t care if it was this week or next. Her only stipulation was that the clear their plan with the part-time caretaker. She heard someone in the kitchen and figured it was Jeramiah.
The eighth-grader pulled a frozen breakfast sandwich out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave. He tore it up and went to his room clean up.
By the time Coree woke up, Jere and Rochelle were in the great room playing Uno on the floor. He said hello to his family from the kitchen as he grabbed a large bowl and poured a heaping helping of Froot Loops and Cheerios cereals. Approximately three-fifths of it consisted of the plain oats, ring-shaped objects with rest being the sugar-laced, fruit flavored rings. He carried it to the table in the breakfast nook.
Around 12:00 noon, everyone in the house had retreated to their personal quarters. Rochelle went over to their bedrooms and said she would was running to the store to pick up a whole, roasted, lemon-pepper chicken from the grocery deli section for lunch. She requested Coree come with her and Jere begin packing his overnight bag for the sleepover with Desmond Owens.
“Which car, ma,” Coree inquired.
“Let’s take the white one,” she answered referring to the BMW 3-series.
On the drive, Rochelle addressed her son, “Are you looking forward to your date?”
“Yeah,” the fifteen-year-old offered without additional information.
“What are you guys going to do?”
“Eat at Panera in Berryhill Plaza. Then, we’re gonna see a movie.”
“Very nice. Who chose the restaurant?”
“She did,” he shared,
Rochelle was pleased he’d taken her advice to let the lady select. “Cool beans, sweetie. There’s something I wanted to talk about in private.”
“What,” shrank Coree.
“I wanted to know what you think a healthy relationship looks like.”
“Uh...dang, ma. I mean...Well, I dunno.”
“You have an idea, Coree. There isn’t a wrong answer.”
He thought. “It’s like you talk about stuff, you care about each other, you protect each other. You know…”
“Okay. What about the sexual aspect?”
“Ma, I don’t wanna talk about that.”
“Coree, I love you with all my heart and soul. I know it’s awkward to tell me what you’re thinking, but I promise it IS okay. I just want you to be safe and protected.”
“Alright,” he said tentatively.
“Here’s a straightforward question. What do you think a healthy sexual relationship looks like between adults?”
“I guess it oughta be like...You know...Honest and real. They should just be together and not be players. But sex is a big deal. It should be about love.”
“That’s an excellent concept. What about between k**s your age,” asked Rochelle wondering if saying ‘k**s’ was a good or bad thing.
“I think k**s like me need to just hang out and see what they like using the Internet. Sex can add drama it seems like until you’re in college.”
She had a baseline to work with. “I think you have a good grasp on what constitutes a solid, healthy relationship. How do you feel about your mom being an adult.”
“We’re at the store, ma. Need anything besides the chicken,” he checked.
“Just the chicken, sweetie.”
Coree hustled out of the German sports sedan. Rochelle smirked.
When he returned, she unlocked the doors.
Pulling out of the parking lot, Rochelle resumed the conversation. “Do you think everyone has sexual desires?”
“Uhhhhh...Yeah,” Coree said.
“What have you seen on TV or in real life that indicates that?”
“I mean...Like women...Sometimes, the like a man to be around. And they’re touchy feely. You know…”
“Okay. I know this is uncomfortable. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“What did you think when that trucker approached us at the rest area on the way ro Mammoth Cave? No judgement zone,” she indicated the code phrase for being able to speak openly without repercussion.
“Ma, he was tryna hit on you. I thought it was disrespectful in front of me and especially Jerry. You our ma. Plus I don’t know that nigga.”
“Okay, sweetie. That makes sense. What else?”
“I like Mr. Lynton. He talks to us and you smile the most when he’s around. I can tell you love me and my brother, but you also love him. He’s good to us all and he don’t disrespect me or Jere.”
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Rochelle put forth. “I want you to know you’re highly intelligent. I also need you to know that you’re in the demographic to be most affected by sexually transmitted infections and diseases. Sex is a big deal. Making an informed decision before doing it is super important. Then, staying safe with condom use and dental dams and such is also really crucial. You’re in that age range where boys get caught up. I just want you safe. I’m not perfect. I’ve done risky things because I was ashamed of asking for help. I want you to always feel safe asking me.”
Coree Stewart took a deep breath. He opined, “I do feel safe talking to you. I just want you to be safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last night with the alarm. Mr. Lynton was there. I actually saw you two walking to the front door. I didn’t say nothin’ so Jere wouldn’t figure it out.”
“Okay,” Rochelle said flatly, but nervous as hell.
“I know he’s your boyfriend. I’m not stupid.”
“That’s true. You’re certainly not stupid.”
“We both like him and he treats us better than any nigga our birth mom brought around. I don’t wanna lose him. That’s why I didn’t like that truck driver.”
‘Baby, thank you for sharing. That was really brave. Mr. Lynton is a good friend. He’s not in a position to be a husband or father right now. But, he does love you boys. I will be safe. I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s cool, ma!”
“No. I never asked how you felt and I should have. Please remember that if you decide to do something sexual, oral or vaginal, or anal, that you will always wear a condom.”
“Promise.”
“Need some?”
“Naw.”
“Okay, son! There’s a few boxes of condoms in the wicker basket on the top shelf of the wicker basket on the top shelf about the washer and dryer. I don’t check it. I just put a three-pack regulars and magnums in there every two weeks.
“Uh...okay.”
“There are real consequences from not being safe. I don’t want that to happen to you. Please use protection if you need to have sex.”
She explained various STIs and how they were transmitted. Coree was repulsed and didn’t feel like even touching his dick. They were back at home. Coree put the chicken in the oven on the warm setting. Rochelle heated up two cans of Mexican corn and a Mason jar of green beans canned by Bibil.
Lunch was annihilated. No surprise to Rochelle.
Chara Owens arrived at 3:30 to retrieve Jere.
Rochelle checked on Coree at 4:30. He was almost ready, she informed him that he should use the prepaid debit card in his name that currently had a balance on it for everything on the date except specific cash-only purchases. She quizzed him on how much was available. He answered correctly with $359.98.
Rochelle drove to Layla’s parents’ 2200-square-foot, three-bedroom, house. She walked her son to the door. They all stepped inside and exchanged pleasantries.
She drove them to the movies with the expectation that Michael would pick them up and have Coree home by 10:30 p.m.
Jeramiah was already settled in with the Owenses.
Rochelle rushed back home to shower and change. After lathering her body in cocoa butter and petroleum jelly, she donned a black, sleeveless, form-fitting, knee-length, dress. She drove to the premier steakhouse in the BMW.
Hugo was there waiting in a nicely-tailored, slim-fit, navy suit with light pink tie. They sat near a window. As expected, he ordered for her. She wanted the filet mignon. Medium rare with roasted new potatoes. He chose the thick-cut pork chops with rice pilaf and seasonal veggies. They dined and conversed happily.
“I’m glad we went out,” confessed Rochelle.
“Same here,” shared Hugo. “How are your sons?”
“They’re fine. You know teenagers are interesting.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t the easiest to deal with.”
“I’m not sure any of us were.”
“What did you do today?”
“I looked at smart watches this morning. Then, I picked up around the house. How about you?”
“I played cards with my son. And had a safe sex talk with my older one.”
“Good times,” Dr. Alazar joked.
“Seriously. It was real as hell.”
“What makes you say that,” the cardiology fellow inquired.
Rochelle replied, “I just want to make sure he’s safe so I went deep.”
“Good idea. Look I know you have k**s - sons to be exact, And teenagers to boot. I won’t try to complicate your life. But I do feel we have a connection.”
“We do…”
“Then we agree. Let’s make a promise to go out again.”
“Deal!”
“I want you…”
“One sec. It’s my pager.”
Rochelle excused herself from the table. She called Jere back.
“Hey, Jere! It’s mom. What’s up,” she pressed.
“Things are weird here. Please come get me and Dez,” her son replied
“What happened?”
“Tell you later.”
“Okay. I;m on my way.”
Rochelle informed Dr. Hugo that there was an emergency. She begged his forgiveness. He assured her it was fine. She sped to the Owenses.
Herron Owens was yelling, “You fuckin’ bitch!”
Chara was no less infuriated. “Kiss my ass, bastard. Go live with that whore slut!”
Rochelle could see the marital strife had some to a head. She motioned for Jere to get in the crossover SUV. Desmond followed him. She drove home wondering what happened.
Rochelle would learn the next day that Chara had slammed the Chevy Avalanche, Herron doroe, into the sporty little Porsche belonging to Faith.
The cleaning lady, Mirella, had left only ten minutes earlier. She employed the Ecuadorian to dust, sweep, mop, vacuum, and tackle the baseboards every two weeks. Once a month, she had the domestic whiz to give the the three-and-a-half bathrooms a deep clean. She did not touch Coree or Jere’s rooms. Rochelle was adamant those be kept in decent order by her sons.
Mirella was a saint. She usually brought some kind of culinary masterpiece. Today, she shared roasted ‘cuy’, or guinea pig, empanadas with spinach, peppers, onions, and queso blanco. Rochelle had tasted one and it was incredible. The sweet, old woman left a tin containing eight of the treats. “For boys,” she had indicated. Rochelle tried to pay her, but Mirella would not accept a dime more than the $65 that negotiated at the beginning of their relationships. When she tended the bathrooms, she collected a cool, crisp Benjamin.
Rochelle’s phone rang. It was Lynton. “Hey, sweetie,” she answered.
“How are you doing, stranger,” he teased.
I’m well. Just been busy with the boys’ football schedules.”
“Yeah! I know how that is. I wanted to come see Jere play next week. And Coree tonight. They’re home games, right?”
“That’ll be great! They’d love to see you. Can I meet you at the stadium?”
“Sure! I can’t wait to see you!”
“Me too, baby girl! I can come over and grill some steaks after.”
“Sounds like a plan, but remember Coree will be home late from the fifth quarter.”
“Yeah, baby. Bye!”
After a brief nap, she fixed a salmon and spinach salad. The light, but hearty, lunch had a simple dressing made with E.V.O.O. (extra virgin olive oil), tarragon, white wine vinegar, and garlic. The refreshing dish gave her a needed boost of energy. She dressed in a three-quarter-length sleeve, mid-length London Style, shift dress. The roomy garment moved with her body, but didn’t make her booty disappear. It was colored with wild prints in various shades of blue. She added a pair of navy, quilted Liz Claiborne ballet flats. She picked up and purse and chose the BMW to drive.
She pulled up outside the offices of New Path Counseling Services. The firm was staffed by a couple of masters-level licensed professional counselors (LPC). The owners were Drs. Don Powell and Suzette Ellis-Powell, a married couple. He had a Ph.D. and practiced clinical psychology specializing in marriage, families, and individual c***dren. She was a board-certified psychiatric mental health nurse practitioner holding a doctorate of nursing practice. This enabled her to prescribe medication if absolutely necessary. The boy’s met with Dr. Mister, as they referred to Don, for their individual sessions. He also did their family group sessions monthly. Dr. Misses, or Suzette, handled Rochelle’s therapy.
She settled into the comfortable chair in the shrink’s office.
“How are you, Rochelle?”
“I’m well, doctor. And you?”
“I’m fine. So tell me. What’s up?”
“Well...Since I last saw you I went down for my grandmother’s funeral.”
“How was that?”
“It was fine for the most part.”
“Meaning?”
“My mom as always was trying to do too much to make everything perfect. She was the main one that took care of my grandmother. I won’t see my uncles and aunts didn’t help at all, but one in particular was pretty much absent unless it was something where she was going to get public recognition. Anyway the funeral cost five grand and my mom paid for it all. She did at least have a life insurance policy on her for fifteen-K. But no one else chipped in a dime. One uncle and Aunt split the cost of the plot, burial, and headstone.”
“Also, my mom got my brother a bereavement pass. He was able to attend the service. That cost her $650 for the transportation and off-duty cop. Then, she wanted him to have a suit to wear. So, I stepped in and told her I’d pay for it. The whole outfit was less than $250 so I wasn’t worried about the money, but I think she should keep the rest of the insurance money for herself. She was grateful.”
“Anyway. The absentee-daughter-slash-my-aunt, starts bragging about how nicely she and her siblings ‘put momma away’. I mumbled something under my breath. Then said it louder that she didn’t pay for a damn thing. It got a little rowdy and a drunk cousin was ready to fight that witch’s son-in-law. My mom was embarrassed. I felt vindicated, honestly.”
“Okay,” pondered Dr. Ellis-Powell. “That’s powerful. This sounds like it’s been there for a while.”
“Absolutely. My G-momma was hateful to all her grandk**s except for Carol Ann’s c***dren. There was always a clear distinction in how she treated them versus us. I know part of it is resentment towards my grandmother and my mom for making us suffer through Sunday dinners with that woman. I’ve been trying to change the brain associations using the eye movement therapy you showed me. It has worked for some of them already.”
“Excellent work,” Suzette commended her. “How did you feel about seeing your brother?”
“You know, doc, I’ve forgiven him. I’m at peace for what he did. What kills me is that there’s still this unspoken, mildly evident tension between us. And, when we hugged, we embraced a little longer than everyone else. I’m scared I’m attaching to him out of regression.”
“That’s interesting. Let’s explore. Tell me what specifically makes you feel that way,” she inquired.
“It’s just like...you know...how is voice lingers after statements like he going to take care of me when he gets out for putting money on his books.”
“Is he aware and clear that your intentions are pure in assisting him financially during this time.”
“I have stressed it numerous times.”
“Okay, perhaps he feels guilty still, but unresolved secrets haven’t freed him to move on.”
“You mean telling my mom.”
“I don’t know. I do remember that you believed your mom to have suspected something. And, maybe your brother feels the same.”
“It’ll kill her if I tell her. She’ll blame herself. And, you know, she can play the victim. I don’t have the energy.”
“I’m not saying you must, dear. I’m saying forgiving her for it is necessary. And, that having it in the open may potentially remove the taboo and thus hidden desires.”
“I’ll give it some thought.”
“Very good, Ro. That’s all I ask. How’s the sex life,” the advanced nurse practitioner queried.
“I’ve been pretty active. A couple of times a week. I’ve been getting into a lot of role play where the guys call me ‘faggot’ and act like I’m young,” the mother of two confessed.
“Alright. Any new partners?”
“No. Just with the few I’ve had over the past six months.”
“How is that affecting you?”
“I feel great when I do it. But, I feel low afterwards. Then, I want to do it again. I don’t like having sex with the boys at home, but I have. And Coree’s at that age when he’s naturally ready to explore sex. I don’t want my behavior to set a bad example or cause at-risk behaviors.”
“Have you asked him about it?”
“No.”
“Are you?”
“I want to. What do you think?”
“I think you have to educate your sons on healthy sexual behavior and appropriate conduct with potential partners. It’s up to you to decide how much you discuss about your personal sex life. I wouldn’t suggest going into great detail. Maybe ask him what he thinks a healthy intimate relationship looks like for people his age and also for folks like parents. That’ll give you a chance to gauge where he is mentally and guide the conversation from there.”
“Great idea, Dr. Sooz,” Ro shared. “There’s a guy who is trying date me.”
“Trying or is,” the psychiatric provider inquired.
“He’s doing his best. I met him after work one night at a diner. We had a great conversation. We’re going to Big Sky steakhouse tomorrow night.”
“Fancy. What’s his name?”
“Hugo. Dr. Hugo Alazar.”
‘Nice name.”
“Actually, yeah! His dad is Ethiopian and his mother French. He grew up in Toronto. Lived for two years in Morocco.”
“He sounds like quite a connoisseur.”
“He speaks three languages fluently.”
“You sound impressed.”
“I like him. He’s interesting company.”
“You said ‘doctor’. What exactly does he do?”
“He’s a cardiology fellow at St. George.”
“Okay. Where will he fit into the sphere of intimacy.”
“I’m still getting to know him.”
“This is progress. This is the first actual date you’ve had in a while.”
“It wasn’t a date.”
“It wasn’t?”
“I mean. It was...Hell, it was a date.”
“It’s okay to enjoy and to feel happy. You’re worth it.”
“I know. I’m just going to keep getting to know him and take it slow.”
“Okay. ANd what about the current sexual partners. How do they fit in?”
“I’ve been seeing less of them since Hugo and I went out.”
“Do you talk on the phone.”
“Not really.”
“Maybe try that between dates. Texting doesn’t truly allow chemistry to be explored and experienced.”
“I know what you mean.”
“Good! How’s life in general with the boys?”
“They’re good overall. Got into a tussle last week. Had to handle that. Oh, we went to Mammoth Cave. I forgot how Coree had reacted to man who expressed clear, interest in me.”
“How did that go,”
“He was short, curt, bordering on rude.”
“Or...was he just protecting mom from an unworthy leech of a man? His perspective in this is important. You might even start the sex conversation with that interaction. Have him dissect it.”
“True. Jere is killing it in football. Grades are decent. I had to set a teacher straight, but I think she’s on board since I showed out.”
“You didn’t ‘show out’ did ya, girl?!?!?” Suzetted was now in ethnic mode.
“Oh, but I did. And I let little miss lily white girl know I wasn’t some basic, uninterested mother.”
“Get ‘em together, girl. We’re almost out of time. Let’s look at next month’s schedule.”
Rochelle drove back home to prep for the evening game. Just as she entered the corporate limits of Rawlston, she made a left onto Stonewall Jackson Road. Her destination was a local eatery called ‘Montesi’s Pizzeria’. Her younger son was a fan of the bacon double cheeseburger specialty pie. It was a blend of fresh bacon, seasoned ground beef, Montesi’s pizza cheese mix (mozzarella, provolone, Parmesan), and cheddar cheese on top of traditional red sauce. Rochelle purchased a large 14-inch from the Heat & Eat freezer.
Jere arrived at home a little after his mom since he had no practice today. The booster club was hosting a catfish nugget dinner for the team and cheerleaders so Coree was still at the school.
Rochelle greeted him with a hug. Sheesh, he was a solidly built k**. She shared with him that she had spoken to Mrs. Owens and they agreed to let him spend the night on Saturday. When he asked why, she explained that she had plans with friends that evening and Coree was taking Layla on a date. Jere seemed unfazed.
Lynton pulled up and walked inside carrying light-brown, plastic grocery bags. He set the bags on the kitchen island and said, “Hey y’all! How’s it going?”
“Pretty good, Mr. Lynton,” Jere said eating his fourth slice.
“I’m well, Lynton. How was your day,” checked Rochelle.
“It was good. Thanks,” replied the forty-eight year-old as he set up the ingredients for his steak marinade. The main part was Lawry’s Steak & Chop Marinade. He added a lemon juice and lime juice. Then, a couple dashes of Worcestershire sauce and some minced garlic. He finished it by shaking in dried rosemary and thyme. He mixed the concoction together.
Rochelle had washed out the large aluminum pan he brought. He placed the ribeyes and one T-bone, specifically for Rochelle, who didn’t care for the fattiness of the other cut, into the container. He covered it with foil and loaded it into the Samsung, fingerprint resistant, black stainless steel, french door refrigerator with metal cooling draw and freezer underneath,. She called out, “Google, what is tonight’s weather forecast?” The voice replied that it would mild with chances of rain.
She disappeared to her room to get changed. She grabbed a clear vinyl poncho on the way out. She returned wearing and red fitted summer-weight sweater, black denim skinny jeans, and red Tory Burch ballet flats. The physician reached into her Kate Spade billfold and pulled out a dub which she handed to her son. He smiled at the thought of having twenty buck in casd to spend at the concession stand. “Don’t spend it all on junk food, buddy,” she added reading his mind.
“Yes, ma’am,” gushed Jeramiah. “I may buy something for Tucker and Dez.”
“That’s fine, sweetie! And very kind of you,” she encouraged him.
Rochelle knew that Tucker, a white k** on Jere’s team, came from a family that was evidently living below the poverty line. His family resided in Cotton Trail Court - a manufactured home community. It was filled with all manner of meth addicts and crackheads. It was suspected there was more than a little prostitution going on there. His mom and stepfather lived together with Tucker and his three siblings. The patriarch of the household was once an over-the-road trucker who was now drawing a disability check. The man was also addicted to that “Tina”. The mother waitressed at a mom & pop diner not far from home when she could. She, too, used. His older sister turned tricks on occasion. Outside of his school breakfast and lunch programs, he was not always sure when he would eat again. For that reason, Rochelle generally packed an extra granola bar or helping of food in Jere’s lunch cooler.
At the game, Lynton and Rochelle watched from the bleachers seated near Chara and some of her teacher friends. He sat behind her on a row that was filled with the ladies’ husbands and boyfriends. Coree got put in during the third quarter and he scored a TD. The Mustangs were victorious winning 17 to 7. Rochelle kept a keen eye on Faith the whole time. She was eager to find out.
Ro, Lynton, and Jere piled in the vehicle to go back home.
The mature suitor fired up the grill. He added the steaks. To go with them he had decided on asparagus and garlic mashed potatoes. He enjoyed playing house with the beautiful woman and her sons. They all seemed to adore and respect him - a feeling he rarely felt at home. It seemed his daughter only called to ask for money and his wife had been frigid for some time. He was in heaven, if only temporarily. They ate while having light conversation about the game, school, and the validity of cultural appropriation.
After Jere retired to his room, Rochelle led Lynton to her boudoir. She undressed and pushed him onto her soft bed. She climbed on top of him and them stuck her titties in his face. He motorboated them. She could feel his dick hardening. She reached down to free the little soldier. It popped out with a salute.
“Damn, I missed you,” whispered Lynton.
“Missed you too, daddy,” Rochelle confessed.
“Come on and let Daddy get in that asspussy!”
“Yes, sir!” She placed the tip at her anus.
“Ooh,,,yeah, girl! That pussy feel good!”
She rocked back and forth slowly working his girth into her. The more she took, the more she felt an escape of euphoric proportions. Her body tingled as he thrust gently jamming his love tool up her warm, wet booty hole. He pulled her face to his. They kissed as she was grinding her ample round cheeks on his thick dick.
“I love you, Rochelle,” he called out.
“I love you too, daddy,” she reciprocated.
The man with the slight beer gut flipped her on her back. He slammed into her. She whimpered as he made love interspersed with sprints of a****listic fucking. “Unh, unh, unh, unh,” was all she could muster. The passionate symphony of their bodies continued with vigor. He placed her legs on his shoulders to go deeper - his nutsack slapping against her. He enjoyed how she held on to him. Hers finger digging into his back. Her palms clenching his firm, hairy butt cheeks. Tickling his sweaty scrotum. She was his sexual soul mate.
Eventually, Lynton could hold it in no more. His exploded with a rage so red it lit the room on fire. He shouted, “Agggghhhhh!” He rolled on his side.
They lay there spooning until he woke around 3:00 a.m. He kissed her on the forehead and she opened her eyes. “I need to go, baby girl,” he lamented.
“Okay, baby! Love you,” she smiled.
“Love you too!”
She walked him to the door. There was an immediate piercing, pulsing noise. Coree must have set the alarm when he got home. “Bye, sweetie,” she said before sprinting to the control panel to disengage the security system, Both boys were awakened.
Coree heard the alarm go off. He snuck to grab the Easton aluminum baseball bat he kept beside his bed. He opened his door quietly and crept towards the common areas of the house. It was dark and he didn’t want to turn on any lights.
Jeramiah was jolted from a dream about riding on a rollercoaster seated between his buddy Dez and the oldest sister from the TV show ‘black-ish’. He picked up an orange-and-black, 12-pound medicine ball.
The brothers met in the hallway. Coree signaled for his younger brother to wait. He heard faint rumbling in the kitchen. He moved quickly with light steps. He flipped on the light and yelled, “Freeze, muthafucka!” Jere burst out with the exercise ball ready to catch the assailant off guard.
“Boys,” yelled a startled Rochelle. “It’s mom!”
“Oh, my bad, ma,” Coree sighed.
“Sorry,” Jere slumped.
“No need to apologize. I just wanted some air and when I opened the door the alarm went off,” she doctored the truth. “What’s all this about?”
Jerry, who could barely keep a secret, admitted, “We have a plan in case somebody breaks in.”
“Bro,” expressed Coree with frustration.
“It’s okay guys. I used to do the same thing with my sibling when I was a k**. You do know we’re safe here at home though, right?”
“Yeah,” they agreed unanimously.
“Well,” the adoptive parent thought. “How about some grilled cheese.”
“Can I get some ham on mine,” Jere inquired.
“Of course, baby! Any requests,” she looked at the older brother.
“That sounds good,” Coree consented.
“Perfect,” Dr. Stewart said. “Will you guys get the bread, cheese, butter, and ham?”
Rochelle grabbed a large cast iron skillet and sprayed it with olive oil cooking spray. She heated it as the boys assembled four sandwiches. They figured their mom would have a half of one leaving one-and-a-half of them to split after their first.
They ate while standing around the island. Jere teased Coree about his date. The embarrassed sophomore hit back with, “At least I can get a girlfriend.”
“I can get three tomorrow,” Jere boasted.
“Guys,” Rochelle alerted them to her waning patience with their banter.
The food was devoured and each went their separate ways to sleep.
On Saturday morning, Rochelle slept in until 7:30 a.m. Not too late by most standards, but for her it was unusual. She did not want to bother the boys. They had one more time to do Mrs. Mary’s yard work. She didn’t care if it was this week or next. Her only stipulation was that the clear their plan with the part-time caretaker. She heard someone in the kitchen and figured it was Jeramiah.
The eighth-grader pulled a frozen breakfast sandwich out of the freezer and popped it into the microwave. He tore it up and went to his room clean up.
By the time Coree woke up, Jere and Rochelle were in the great room playing Uno on the floor. He said hello to his family from the kitchen as he grabbed a large bowl and poured a heaping helping of Froot Loops and Cheerios cereals. Approximately three-fifths of it consisted of the plain oats, ring-shaped objects with rest being the sugar-laced, fruit flavored rings. He carried it to the table in the breakfast nook.
Around 12:00 noon, everyone in the house had retreated to their personal quarters. Rochelle went over to their bedrooms and said she would was running to the store to pick up a whole, roasted, lemon-pepper chicken from the grocery deli section for lunch. She requested Coree come with her and Jere begin packing his overnight bag for the sleepover with Desmond Owens.
“Which car, ma,” Coree inquired.
“Let’s take the white one,” she answered referring to the BMW 3-series.
On the drive, Rochelle addressed her son, “Are you looking forward to your date?”
“Yeah,” the fifteen-year-old offered without additional information.
“What are you guys going to do?”
“Eat at Panera in Berryhill Plaza. Then, we’re gonna see a movie.”
“Very nice. Who chose the restaurant?”
“She did,” he shared,
Rochelle was pleased he’d taken her advice to let the lady select. “Cool beans, sweetie. There’s something I wanted to talk about in private.”
“What,” shrank Coree.
“I wanted to know what you think a healthy relationship looks like.”
“Uh...dang, ma. I mean...Well, I dunno.”
“You have an idea, Coree. There isn’t a wrong answer.”
He thought. “It’s like you talk about stuff, you care about each other, you protect each other. You know…”
“Okay. What about the sexual aspect?”
“Ma, I don’t wanna talk about that.”
“Coree, I love you with all my heart and soul. I know it’s awkward to tell me what you’re thinking, but I promise it IS okay. I just want you to be safe and protected.”
“Alright,” he said tentatively.
“Here’s a straightforward question. What do you think a healthy sexual relationship looks like between adults?”
“I guess it oughta be like...You know...Honest and real. They should just be together and not be players. But sex is a big deal. It should be about love.”
“That’s an excellent concept. What about between k**s your age,” asked Rochelle wondering if saying ‘k**s’ was a good or bad thing.
“I think k**s like me need to just hang out and see what they like using the Internet. Sex can add drama it seems like until you’re in college.”
She had a baseline to work with. “I think you have a good grasp on what constitutes a solid, healthy relationship. How do you feel about your mom being an adult.”
“We’re at the store, ma. Need anything besides the chicken,” he checked.
“Just the chicken, sweetie.”
Coree hustled out of the German sports sedan. Rochelle smirked.
When he returned, she unlocked the doors.
Pulling out of the parking lot, Rochelle resumed the conversation. “Do you think everyone has sexual desires?”
“Uhhhhh...Yeah,” Coree said.
“What have you seen on TV or in real life that indicates that?”
“I mean...Like women...Sometimes, the like a man to be around. And they’re touchy feely. You know…”
“Okay. I know this is uncomfortable. I just want to make sure you’re safe.”
“What did you think when that trucker approached us at the rest area on the way ro Mammoth Cave? No judgement zone,” she indicated the code phrase for being able to speak openly without repercussion.
“Ma, he was tryna hit on you. I thought it was disrespectful in front of me and especially Jerry. You our ma. Plus I don’t know that nigga.”
“Okay, sweetie. That makes sense. What else?”
“I like Mr. Lynton. He talks to us and you smile the most when he’s around. I can tell you love me and my brother, but you also love him. He’s good to us all and he don’t disrespect me or Jere.”
“Thank you for being honest with me,” Rochelle put forth. “I want you to know you’re highly intelligent. I also need you to know that you’re in the demographic to be most affected by sexually transmitted infections and diseases. Sex is a big deal. Making an informed decision before doing it is super important. Then, staying safe with condom use and dental dams and such is also really crucial. You’re in that age range where boys get caught up. I just want you safe. I’m not perfect. I’ve done risky things because I was ashamed of asking for help. I want you to always feel safe asking me.”
Coree Stewart took a deep breath. He opined, “I do feel safe talking to you. I just want you to be safe.”
“What do you mean?”
“Last night with the alarm. Mr. Lynton was there. I actually saw you two walking to the front door. I didn’t say nothin’ so Jere wouldn’t figure it out.”
“Okay,” Rochelle said flatly, but nervous as hell.
“I know he’s your boyfriend. I’m not stupid.”
“That’s true. You’re certainly not stupid.”
“We both like him and he treats us better than any nigga our birth mom brought around. I don’t wanna lose him. That’s why I didn’t like that truck driver.”
‘Baby, thank you for sharing. That was really brave. Mr. Lynton is a good friend. He’s not in a position to be a husband or father right now. But, he does love you boys. I will be safe. I’m sorry I made you feel uncomfortable.”
“It’s cool, ma!”
“No. I never asked how you felt and I should have. Please remember that if you decide to do something sexual, oral or vaginal, or anal, that you will always wear a condom.”
“Promise.”
“Need some?”
“Naw.”
“Okay, son! There’s a few boxes of condoms in the wicker basket on the top shelf of the wicker basket on the top shelf about the washer and dryer. I don’t check it. I just put a three-pack regulars and magnums in there every two weeks.
“Uh...okay.”
“There are real consequences from not being safe. I don’t want that to happen to you. Please use protection if you need to have sex.”
She explained various STIs and how they were transmitted. Coree was repulsed and didn’t feel like even touching his dick. They were back at home. Coree put the chicken in the oven on the warm setting. Rochelle heated up two cans of Mexican corn and a Mason jar of green beans canned by Bibil.
Lunch was annihilated. No surprise to Rochelle.
Chara Owens arrived at 3:30 to retrieve Jere.
Rochelle checked on Coree at 4:30. He was almost ready, she informed him that he should use the prepaid debit card in his name that currently had a balance on it for everything on the date except specific cash-only purchases. She quizzed him on how much was available. He answered correctly with $359.98.
Rochelle drove to Layla’s parents’ 2200-square-foot, three-bedroom, house. She walked her son to the door. They all stepped inside and exchanged pleasantries.
She drove them to the movies with the expectation that Michael would pick them up and have Coree home by 10:30 p.m.
Jeramiah was already settled in with the Owenses.
Rochelle rushed back home to shower and change. After lathering her body in cocoa butter and petroleum jelly, she donned a black, sleeveless, form-fitting, knee-length, dress. She drove to the premier steakhouse in the BMW.
Hugo was there waiting in a nicely-tailored, slim-fit, navy suit with light pink tie. They sat near a window. As expected, he ordered for her. She wanted the filet mignon. Medium rare with roasted new potatoes. He chose the thick-cut pork chops with rice pilaf and seasonal veggies. They dined and conversed happily.
“I’m glad we went out,” confessed Rochelle.
“Same here,” shared Hugo. “How are your sons?”
“They’re fine. You know teenagers are interesting.”
“Yeah. I wasn’t the easiest to deal with.”
“I’m not sure any of us were.”
“What did you do today?”
“I looked at smart watches this morning. Then, I picked up around the house. How about you?”
“I played cards with my son. And had a safe sex talk with my older one.”
“Good times,” Dr. Alazar joked.
“Seriously. It was real as hell.”
“What makes you say that,” the cardiology fellow inquired.
Rochelle replied, “I just want to make sure he’s safe so I went deep.”
“Good idea. Look I know you have k**s - sons to be exact, And teenagers to boot. I won’t try to complicate your life. But I do feel we have a connection.”
“We do…”
“Then we agree. Let’s make a promise to go out again.”
“Deal!”
“I want you…”
“One sec. It’s my pager.”
Rochelle excused herself from the table. She called Jere back.
“Hey, Jere! It’s mom. What’s up,” she pressed.
“Things are weird here. Please come get me and Dez,” her son replied
“What happened?”
“Tell you later.”
“Okay. I;m on my way.”
Rochelle informed Dr. Hugo that there was an emergency. She begged his forgiveness. He assured her it was fine. She sped to the Owenses.
Herron Owens was yelling, “You fuckin’ bitch!”
Chara was no less infuriated. “Kiss my ass, bastard. Go live with that whore slut!”
Rochelle could see the marital strife had some to a head. She motioned for Jere to get in the crossover SUV. Desmond followed him. She drove home wondering what happened.
Rochelle would learn the next day that Chara had slammed the Chevy Avalanche, Herron doroe, into the sporty little Porsche belonging to Faith.
Fawn
- 13.12.2020
- 10
- 0
