Single Mom - Opening Game & Intrigue free porn video

“Hey, retard,” yelled Coree.
“What, stupid,” hissed Jeramiah.
“You need to pick your towels and shit up in the bathroom, mane!”
“I do, bruh,” the six-foot thirteen year-old stood up. “You’re the one that be stinkin’ the joint up with your smelly ass.”
“Fuck you, nigga!”
“Fuck you too.”

The sophomore threw the towel at his younger brother. This enraged Jeramiah who already struggled with anger management. The middle school cornerback charged. Now, they were in a full brawl.

“You get on my nerves,” Coree shouted.

Rochelle heard the commotion and rushed over to the side of the house where he sons slept. When she saw the tussle, she ordered them to stop. They continued in a bear hug hold. She rushed to the kitchen and returned with a pitcher of water that she threw at her rowdy k**s. This shocked them and they stopped.

“What the hell is wrong with you two,” the mother asked.
Jere spoke first. “He accused me of being dirty then you said ‘fuck me’.”
“Ma, I did ask him to clean up but he got all stupid like he always does,” Coree huffed.
“You called me a retard, you dick eater,” the eighth grader retorted.
“Language,” Rochelle said sternly. Go to the kitchen table right now. Both of you. Now!”

The guys sat down at the light gray distressed wooden table that had 4 chairs and a bench. Rochelle went into the refrigerator. She poured three glasses of lemonade, placed them on a tray, then joined them.

“Alright guys, I know brothers fight sometimes. I didn’t always get along with my siblings growing, but we gotta find a more constructive way to deal with our feelings. We can go popping off at everyone that upsets us, “ she glanced back and forth. “There’s enough danger out there to make me worry about your safety as young Black men for you to be doing detrimental things in your own house. I’m not going to tolerate physical v******e. We can drink this lemonade and talk it out. Deal?”
“Deal,” Jere mumbled.
Coree added flatly, “Yeah, ma.”
“Alright! What is the problem?”
“He leaves his dirty towels on the floor all the time and there’s crap all over the counter,” complained the varsity wide receiver.
“I don’t…,” Jere was interrupted by his mom.

“Wait,” she considered her words carefully. Her sons’ bedrooms were connected by a Jack-and-Jill bathroom. There was only one sink on the vanity. “Jere is it true that you don’t clean up after yourself sometimes?”
“No, I just figured I could wait till I did my laundry,” Jeramiah shared.
“Okay. No do you think it’s fair the Coree has to step around someone else’s mess.”
“No, but he’s not perfect.”
“I’m not saying he is. I’m asking if you think that’s fair.”
“No.”
“I agree. What can you do to avoid this in the future?”
“If I had a separate hamper for towels so they don’t mix with my clothes, I could throw them in there.”
“That’s a great idea. What do you think, Coree?”

“Yeah, if he does it,” Coree jeered.
“Okay. I’ll buy Jere another hamper tomorrow. Now son, you said is ALWAYS does this. Is it really true that he never cleans up.”
“Well...not always. But it still makes me mad when he does.”
“That was a yes or no question. Please answer accordingly.”
“Well. no not always.”
“Good! It’s important that we avoid saying people do things ALL the time. That is very rarely the case in life AND it puts people on the defensive. Understand?”

“I get it! Look I’m sorry little bro,” Coree apologized.
“Me too, Jere replied.
“Why are you sorry, Jeramiah,” Ro inquired.
“For not always cleaning up after myself. I’ll do better from now on.”
“Excellent! I want you both to write a one-page essay on how you can better approach one another going forward. I’m looking for your ideas so we have a harmonious household. Is that clear?”
“Yes, ma’am, the answered in unison.

“Now,” the medical doctor proffered. “What type of consequence should I put in place for this behavior?” The boys silently looked at the table. “I’m waiting. You don’t want me coming up with the punishment I can promise you that.”

“Uh...Okay,” Coree stammered. “Maybe you could take our take our iPads from us.”
“Or don’t let us have friends over for two weeks,” Jere suggested.
“You are both going to Ms. Mary’s yard work for the next month. I will let you keep your devices, but they need to be put in the e-basket by 8:30 for the next two weeks. And, no friends here or sleepovers away for two weeks. Capiche?”
“Yes ma’am,” the pair sang.
“Also, I want that bathroom cleaned every other day from now on. How do you propose to do that?”
Coree took the lead, “We’ll use a calendar and put our names on a schedule.”
“Good idea, man,” Jere agreed.
“Works for me. Remember I love you both more than anything. Now go call Ms. Mary and tell her the good news.”

Rochelle was mostly happy with the way that ended. In her mind she it was too much to cut them off from the world - not because of an authority issue, but because they both had iPhones, iPads, smart watches, televisions, and Chromebooks. It would drive her batty, plus her schedule varied so managing it would be tricky. She also resolved to spend some individual time with each of them very soon.

Rochelle made baked potatoes stuffed with fajita chicken. She also served Parmesan zucchini crisps. She had prepared the food before the boys made it home from practice since she had worked 6:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m. today. Tomorrow, Thursday, she was scheduled to go in at 10:00 p.m. and get off eight hours later. She’d traded this shift with someone so she could watch Jere’s season opener in person. Plus, her mom and stepdad were coming to visit for the same reason. They planned to stay until Saturday so they could see Coree run the ball on Friday night.

She called out to the boys to get the table ready for dinner. Coree handled beverages. Jerry did the place settings. As they dined,, the younger remarked, “This is great, ma!”

“Thank you, baby,” she smiled. “Tell me about your day.”
“It was good. I got a ‘B’ on my literature quiz. And Ms. Howell gave me student of the week in social studies. Practice was good. I’m hyped for the game.”
“That’s excellent, sweetie! Congratulations on your achievements. I’m proud of you. So, Mr. Coree let’s hear about yours.”

“It’s was basic as hell,” he started. “Uh, I mean it was basic. Class was boring. But I got an ‘A’ on my Algebra II test. Practice was kinda clunky.”
“I see. Well, what can you do to make it better tomorrow,” she checked.
“I was in a funk. Tomorrow I’m going keep it positive.”
“Great idea!”
“And I think I might wanna run for SGA parliamentarian,” he almost whispered.
“What?!?!? Don’t ever shy away from what you have to say. Use your voice.”
“I wanna run for SGA. There’s an opening because the girl that got it had to move away.””
“So are you?”

“Yeah, I’m gonna run for SGA,” the candidate boasted.
“Fabulous,” beamed Ro. “What all do you have to do?”
“I have to submit an essay about school government and collect 25 signatures from the student body.”
“That sounds intense. Have you started?”
“I’m going to write the essay tonight. I’ll get signatures tomorrow.”
“What do you need from me or Jere?”
“Some help making posters and flyers.”

“Do you have a campaign committee,” she pondered.
“Layla offered to run the campaign. Ty’s on board so far. That’s it,” Coree revealed.
“Just make sure you have all bases covered - brainiacs, jocks, theatre k**s, marching band, et cetera.”
“I will.”
“Well, I’m going to be on the committee too,” Rochelle shared. “I think this is awesome and it’ll great on college apps.”

Rochelle let him know that Layla and Ty could come over Sunday afternoon to work on posters. She made it clear this was not a social visit. She and Jere would be joining the group to knock out the project.

Layla Rose Barnes was Coree’s current crush. Rochelle had only met the girl in passing. She seemed nice enough. Layla’s dad was an assistant district attorney and her mom taught eleventh and twelfth grade English at the high school. She was biracial - Black dad, white mom. Rochelle find the combination of races and career choices ironic in a stereotypical kind of way. It was almost like the tried to be mixed race family that’s both lovable and annoying on TV sitcoms.

After Rochelle wished the boys a good day at school, she cleared the table. There was, perhaps, enough breakfast casserole left for one-and-a-half servings. The dish containing Bisquick crust, eggs, shredded cheddar cheese, bell peppers, onions, and turkey sausage was always a hit with the boys and any of their friends that spent the night. She put the leftovers in the fridge. She put her laundry in the washing machine and sat down to read, She planned to nap starting at 10:00 a.m. until her folks arrived.

Clarence and Linda Perkins pulled into Rochelle’s driveway at 1:58 p.m. The doorbell woke her up. She made her way across the house to let them in. Clarence hauled their bags off the guest room which was on the side where the boys lived. It had its own ensuite bathroom. Rochelle and her mother embraced.

Clarence asked for water and a beer. Linda wanted an Arnold Palmer. They sat at table talking about family and reminiscing. Rochelle was caught up on all of her siblings and nieces lives by the end of the conversation. She was also well aware of the drama with c***dren’s church.

Jeramiah’s game started at 6:00 p.m. The boys were already at the field. They drove in Clarence’s Ford F-150 with Rochelle in the captain’s seat. Upon arrival, Rochelle spotted Herron Owens walking next to that buxom blond that had been at church the past few Sundays. She called out to him. He walked over while Faith hung behind. He was introduced to Coree and Jere’s grandparents. He smiled and greeted them warmly. He excused himself to help the JV coaching staff. He and Faith headed towards the field.

Rochelle knew for sure something was up with those two. She decided she would get to the bottom of it. Interestingly, her mother said, “He sure was nervous. It was like you caught him with his hand in the cookie jar.”
“Right,” she sought confirmation.

Rochelle and her parents found the seats Coree was saving. She gave him twenty bucks to buy sodas and some nachos. “Can I get my a couple chili dogs,” her son asked. She approved. Clarence walked with him to the concession stand to help carry the snacks. Upon returning, Coree excused himself to go sit with his friends - namely the varsity football team.

Before letting him go, Rochelle had a question. “Do you know who that blond lady is on the sideline?”
Coree blushed and tried to whisper, “Do you mean that one with the big...you know?” He made a gesture with his hands in front of his chest.
“Yes, c***d,” she rolled her eyes. “The one with the large breasts.”
“I didn’t know you got down like that, ma,” he joked.
“Shut up, crazy. I don’t. Now, who is she?”
“Ms. Moreland. She’s the new athletic trainer.”
“Alright. Get your tail back over here before the two-minute warning. Bye bye!”

The game turned out to be a blowout. Jere and the Mustangs beat the Generals 41 to 6. Jere’s stat sheet was impressive. He amassed two interceptions - on returned for a touchdown, four total tackles two of them solo, and 40 yards. Clarence proclaimed, “That boy can play!” He proudly let those around him know that tank was his grandson.

Coree went down to the field to collect his brother. Coach Owens would bring them home. The rest of the family went back to the truck. They stopped to pick up a couple ready-to-eat pizzas for the boys. The three of them were having pinto beans, collard greens with kale, and smoky grilled portobello mushrooms. Clarence and Linda were both working to manage cholesterol. They still ate red meat, but usually only a couple well-portioned servings per week.

Jere was exalted his Bibi and Papa Cee. He delighted in the attention as he scarfed down inexpensive slices of pepperoni. They went off to do homework. Rochelle announced she would catch a few Z’s before work.

She left home for Mercy Memorial. Her first patient of the night was a lady that clearly needed psychiatric attention. Rochelle sedated the woman and processed the paperwork for a 72-hour observational hold. For the rest of the night, it was your standard slew of inner city cases - stab wounds, busted lips, gastritis, STIs, and sprains.

She was leaving when Sergei RIvera, a twenty-five year-old, Mexican-American, surgical tech, approached her. The big bodied, baby faced, square-headed man said, “Hey Dr. Stewart! How are you?”

“I’m well. Mr. Rivera. And you,” she returned.
“Good now that I’ve seen you.”
“Dude, I’m too old for you,” she laughed.
“I like older women,” he confessed. “I’m still gonna take you out for lunch on your birthday.”
“Alrighty…”

At home the inhabitants were stirring. Ms. Mary had arrived at 6:15 as usual when Rochelle worked overnight to ensure the boys got off to school on time. Rochelle wasn’t worried about whether or not they ate because those human trash compactors made sure they were never hungry. All the same, Mary Simmons, a church member, fixed a warm breakfast.

The part-time dependent care assistant had been shocked this morning to see Linda in the kitchen. “Oh, hey Mrs. Mary,” the woman beamed as she rolled out biscuit dough.

“Is that you, Linda,” the startled lady inquired.
“Yes it’s me. We came up for the boys’ games this week. I guess Rochelle forgot to remind you.”
“Oh, that’s okay. I’m up every day by 4:30. I’ll just go dust the furniture in the living room.”
“Come back soon for breakfast.”

The boys and Clarence feasted. Homemade biscuits. Gravy, Home potatoes. Cheesy eggs. Bacon. The ladies were discussing the mess Trump was currently making. Rochelle entered to the wonderful aroma. She said hello to all and grabbed a plate. After the boys left, Ms. Mary headed towards their bedrooms. Rochelle was curious. The helper was making Coree’s bed. Jere’s bed was a mess.

“Mrs. Simmons,” Rochelle called out. “What are you doing?”
Mary jumped. Damn she was a frightful little thing. “I was just straightening up the boys’ rooms.”
“You don’t have to do that. You’re not their maid.”
“Oh, it’s no trouble honey. It just gives them a little extra time to get ready in the mornings.”
“Well, neither of my sons needs to be spend one more second in front of a mirror.”
“You too funny.”
“Honestly, I don’t pay you to do that. I want them to make their own beds.”
“Okay. I promise not to do it again,” Mary fibbed.

Rochelle was off work until Monday at 2:00 p.m. She spent some time online shopping with her mom before driving them to the market. Clarence was going to grill chicken quarters. Linda needed ingredients to make fruit salad, creamed spinach, and deviled eggs. Rochelle would contribute an apple crumble.

After having an early dinner, they drove back to the same stadium as yesterday. This time, Clarence was at the helm. Linda carried a plastic Bento box filled with the dinner for Jere to eat.

He was seated next with the Owens clan - Chara, Shelby, and Desmond. Rochelle smiled introducing everyone. She pulled out some cash and suggested, “Jere, why don’t you and Dez go buy us all a soda and get some popcorn?”

The standout JV player rushed away with his buddy. Linda alerted him, “We brought you a plate.”
“Thanks, Bibi,” he said trailing off.

Chara and Rochelle traded niceties. Ro noticed the blond was interacting with the coaching staff, but in a more general way. And she was thrilled when her row mate pointed out the bleached blond Barbie doll. “You know that’s Faith Moreland, right?”

“Yeah, Coree told me her name yesterday,” confessed Rochelle.
“That name doesn’t ring a bell, girl?”
“Not really. Should it?”
“Moreland Dental Clinics. She was the wife.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry. The medicaid fraud dentist.”
“Yeah. He’s in federal prison now. Over three million in false billing. Divorce was final last month. She lost everything. She’s in cozy with some board members and they hired her a district nutrition coordinator and high school fitness coach.”
“Interesting.”
“Very.”

Rochelle hated what she suspected what happening behind Chara’s back. Yet, she yearned to know. A naturally inquisitive person, she would a self-proclaimed nosy person. She didn’t gossip much, but she nearly always knew the who, what, why, and where of most discreet meeting or back room deals. Not much escaped her watchful eye. It was a blessing and a curse.

The Mustangs had a good night. The New Windsor bulldogs put up a hard fight. But in the end, the ‘W’ went to the home team - 17 to 10. Clarence was certain this team could make it State as New Windsor was ranked third in the state in pre-season polling. Coree got some playing time in the third quarter had two receptions - one for a 19-yard gain, the other for 8. It was his first year with the big dogs; he would grow into his own.

At home that evening, the boys ate and played monopoly with Bibi and Papa Cee. Rochelle straightened up the kitchen. She went to her bedroom to get some rest.

Crawling into the bed, she noticed a text message from Dr. Hugo Alazar.

-Hello beautiful! When can we grab that {coffee cup emoji}?

Rochelle thought about her response. She wanted to throw him a bone, but not come off as too open. Her commitment issues, again, dampening her ability to be open and vulnerable with men. Her answer was befitting her mood.

-Hmmm...I work Monday 2p-10p. Wanna meet somewhere after my shift?

Almost immediately, he wrote back with a resounding yes. He suggested a diner on the south side of the city called ‘Acadia & Boulevard’. She agreed to meet him there at 10:45 that night.

The next morning, Rochelle woke up to the smell of orange rolls, cinnamon apples, turkey sausage links and a hash of egg whites, cheese, bell pepper, & button mushrooms. She put on her bathrobe and walked out to meet her mom. She turned on the K-cup machine and put in a dark roast coffee pack for Clarence. He was in the backyard using the weedeater. The boys had not yet gotten up.

“Smells great, mama,” the twin declared.
“Thanks, baby,” her mother glowed.
“Looks like it’s almost ready. I’ll go wake the boys.”

Coree and Jere both grumbled. Rochelle ripped off their covers. Coree pitched a small fit. He was embarrassed because his mom saw his morning wood. Rochelle tried to act as if she hadn’t seen the clearly 8-inch erect penis. After all, she was a medical professional - she’d seen lots of men’s junk. “I’m sorry,” she begged.

She made a mental note to revisit healthy sexual behavior with him. She knew he was handsome and smart. He was also aptly hung. She was certain girls would chasing and trying to trap him at every turn. Hood rats want a meal ticket - always have, always will. The players may change, but the game remains the same.

The food was delicious. Rochelle encouraged Jere to slow down. “Slow down, sweetie. There’s plenty more left.” She still noticed times when her sons reverted to old behaviors from their time of living amongst crackheads, prostitutes, and hoodlums. They had not known the stability of three square meals a day so when they got a meal, they ate as much and as fast as they could. SHe was glad their monthly therapy sessions with the c***d psychologist, Dr. Suzette Mills, was next week.

Bibi said, “Y’all played so good! Papa Cee and I will come back to another game.”
“Yes indeed,” Clarence confirmed. “Two superstars in the house. But don’t be like me. Go on to school and get your credentials.”
“Mr. Cee,” you’ve done very well in life.
“I’ve always regretted not going into the military or college. But, I have good life now. I’m just saying it could’ve been easier if I’d made different choices.”
“True,” Rochelle relented.

“Well, I know these boys are gonna go far. What are you thinking about doing after high school, Coree,” Linda asked with tenderness.
He replied, “Um, I’m gonna go to college. Probably do ROTC cause I wanna go in the Army. I been talking to Sgt. Cutter at school and I’m joint junior ROTC next year.”
“That’s great, son,” Papa Cee. “Any idea what you wanna take up?”
“Computer science or government. Maybe both.”
“We’re going to do a couple campus visits this summer,” Rochelle added.
“That’s real good! Jeramiah, what about you?”

“Um, I been thinking I might like to be a coach or maybe an electrician,” the younger sibling offered meekly.
“That’s a good plan,” Bibi assured him.
“Yeah,” Clarence confirmed.
“We still have plenty of time. I’m almost forty and I still don’t know that I want to practice medicine for the rest of my life.”
“That’s funny, ma,” Jere chuckled. You’re a real good doctor.“
“See that’s what I’m sayin’. Your mama here has options cause she got that paper. Finishin’ school or going in the military shows you got discipline and people’ll hire you almost anywhere,” Clarence bolstered his point.

The rest of the day was lazy. They ate a lunch prepared by Linda. She served open-faced turkey sandwiches with honey mustard, nectarine slices, and brie cheese on crusty harvest grain bread. There was also watermelon pizza - basically wedges of the fruit topped with crumbled feta cheese, sliced red onion, torn basil, and a touch of balsamic. The mother and wife had really taken to trying different heart healthy recipes for her and her man.

Everyone complimented the meal. Rochelle thought about how nice it was to have someone else do the cooking even if her mother was a control freak.

Bibi and Papa Cee headed out just after 1:00.

Rochelle told the boys to get started on cleaning the house. She then expected them to arrange a time to spruce up, Mrs. Mary’s yard. She went to her bedroom and opened her laptop. She searched for “Faith Moreland”. Articles came up concerning her husband, the dentist. Dr. Brett Moreland had been convicted of submitting fraudulent claims to Medicare and Medicaid. His sister was the practice office manager and was also now serving time. Apparently, Faith had no knowledge and immediately filed for divorce. All of their assets were frozen. She literally had nothing now, but the little 1987 Porsche 944S that was only in her name.

Apparently the palatial five-bedroom, six bathroom house in the exclusive enclave, Meadow Brook, was seized amind great fanfare. There were a couple of articles in the lifestyle section also featuring her before the legal issues. One was a spread of her manse decorated at Christmas. The immaculately appointed home with the grand spiral staircase had no less than nine full-size trees, each trimmed with a different theme. Faith had also been chair of the Magnolia Ball for a season, it was the biggest society event of the year in Persopolis and funds raised were donated to an orphanage the Ladies’ League sponsored in India. SHe was also on the mayor’s advisory council for community policing.

She was the dentist’s second wife and 22 years his junior. And, marrying her now ex-husband, thrusted the naturally beautiful woman into a world of luxurious comfort. She was propelled from the trailer park to the Ritz.

Rochelle clicked on the link to a personal training business to find it was owned by none of than Faith Moreland. She called the number.

“This is Faith,” the soft, country-twanged voice answered.
“Hi, I was calling about doing a beginner’s yoga class,” Rochelle said.
“That’s great! I’m not sure if you saw it, but I generally do those only as out-calls.”
“Oh yes! I’m aware. My name is Rochelle Stewart. I’ve seen you at Loving Arms. I actually wanted to host a yoga lesson for two friends and then serve a healthy, light, but filling lunch.”
“That’s a lovely thing to do. When are you thinking?”
“How about next Saturday?”

“I can do that,” the physical fitness guru assured her.
“Do you have any suggestions for the meal,” quizzed Rochelle.
“Well, I’m a nutritionist. I can put together some options and send them to you.”
“That’s great. Could we meet sometime Monday to discuss flesh out the plans?”
“Oh yes! I work at Rawlston High School. You can come there about 11:a.m. and ask for Ms. Moreland.”
“Gotcha.”
“Let me get your contact info.”

On Sunday after church, Layla Barnes came over to work on the campaign materials. Her father had driven her in his burgundy 2014 Audi A8. Coree asked them to come inside when he answered the door. The girl’s dad requested to speak with his mom.

Rochelle was at the kitchen island arranging supplies. She had a snack platter with chicken tenders - fried and grilled, and raw veggies with a cream cheese dip. “Good afternoon! I’m Rochelle. Welcome to our home!”

“Michael Barnes,” he introduced himself.
“Hi, Mrs. Stewart,” the love interest shared. “I’m Layla.”
“Nice to meet you both. Would care you for something to drink,” the hostess offered.
Layla requested, “Some water please.”
Her dad replied, “Do you have tea or juice?”
“We have both.”
“I’ll take an Arnold Palmer.”
“Great choice! That’s my mom’s favorite drink. Coree, please fix their drinks.”

The k**s went to the table to work on the project. Coree called out for Jere to join them.

“I’m Jeramiah,” the young man announced. “Good to meet y’all.”

Rochelle smiled. She could see her son practicing his social skills. “Would you like a plate,” she asked Michael.
“Oh, sure. I wasn’t planning on staying, but you have such a comfortable home. I think I’ll stay a while,” he replied.
“Sure. Thanks! I try to put a little love in the home each day. The k**s have the table occupied. We can eat on the patio.”

Under the covered porch, they sat on the Belham Living 5-piece all-weather sectional conversation furniture. Rochelle sipped on a glass of strawberry-and-mint infused water she made that morning. Michael was stuffing a tender in his mouth. “Where did you grow up,” she inquired politely.

“Oh, me. I grew up in the southern part of the state. Small town. Been here since I graduated from college,” he revealed.
“That’s awesome! I’ve been here about six years.”
“Nice. What brought you here?”
“Work?”
“What do you do?”
“I’m in healthcare.”
“Cool. A nurse. I’m an assistant district attorney.”
“Nice! I’m not a nurse. I’m a medical doctor.”
“Oh,” his eyes bugged. “I stand corrected. Where did you study.”
“Notre Dame for undergrad. Then Meharry.”

“Hmph. An HBCU,” the visitor took a veiled dig.
Rochelle picked up on the vibe. He must have been the man they based the one black friend on in ensemble sitcoms. “Yes. An HBCU. Do you any thoughts on them?”
“I’m just not sure they’re necessary in today’s society. And, don’t you think it hampers people from dealing with the real world where there are people of all races.”
“I take it you didn’t attend one.”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well I did. And, my twin brother attended them for both undergrad and med school. I know that HBCUs hald a great place in our society. Those undergraduate institutions produce the vast majority of Black Ph.D. recipients. WIth high numbers of STEM doctorates earned by their alumni. They are still fully relevant and prepare their students to deal with the world and understand the duality of being Black in America. We need to be twice as good to get half as much.”
“I think that’s a little defeatist. We get what we work for. Look at your home.”
“Interesting thought form a lawyer. How do compare in pay to the white men in your office with similar experience?”
“I’m not sure. I’m happy with my comp plan though.”

“Excellent,” began Rochelle. “We should all be happy with our comp plans because we agreed to work for that. I’m just going to bet that there’s some pip squeak in your office who went to a lower tier law school than you and finished lower in his class, that makes closer to the top of the payscale that the midpoint.”

“You certainly state a consideration,” he admitted cautiously.
“But not a good one,” she giggled. “Don’t be nervous I love healthy discourse. I also took the LSAT. I just wasn’t sure what I wanted to do.”
“I can appreciate that. So you’re not gonna kick me out because I’m on the cops’ side,” Michael teased.
“I know you’re k**ding. Because to assert that you are on their side as opposed the side of justice would be akin to prosecutorial misconduct.”
“That’s a leap.”
“Maybe, but a silver tongued lawyer could make a case. And what if I were ever called as a character witness on your behalf? I would be compelled by the court to divulge this statement which could indicate prejudice. I don’t have to lay it all out for you. You’re a smart man.”
“Touche’. It was clearly a joke.”
“I know. Please don’t worry. I think our k**s like each other. So, I want to get along and be a bit more than just cordial.”
“Thank you!”
“Perhaps my son will get up the nerve to ask her and her family to join us for dinner one night.”
“He seems like a nice k**.”
“He is.”

They walked inside where Ty was now a part of the group. He made sure she was aware of his presence. Rochelle acknowledged the salivating teen.

Michael chuckled to himself.

“What’s so funny, counselor,” she asked.
“Oh. Just that the young man over there is clearly smitten with you,” he advised.
“Whatever,” her eyes rolled.
“I’ve been sixteen before. I know how we think.”
“Well, that’s a hard pass.”

They laughed.

After a couple of hours, the materials were ready for distribution and there was clear plan of attack to launch the campaign with a blast. The guests departed and the family straightened up the residence. They warmed up some leftover chicken quarters that Papa Cee grilled. For sides, there was deli-brand coleslaw, potato salad, and green beans canned by Bibi.

Monday morning was slow once the boys left for school. But Ro needed to get ready to visit Faith’s office. She threw on a simple outfit and fitted denim capris and a bright yellow scoop neck tee. She looked like any other soccer mom shopping at Belk in Rawlston.

Faith met Rochelle at the visitor check-in. She led her new client down the corridor to the gym. The fitness coach was situated in the bank of offices back there that housed the main athletic staff - the head football coach, head basketball coaches for boys’ and girls’ teams, head baseball coach, athletic director & golf coach, and the two track & field coaches. Her office was tiny - no bigger than the walk-in closets in her boys’ bedrooms Rochelle thought. But, it was next to Herron Owens.

“Ms. Stewart,” Faith began.
Rochelle smiled, “It’s Dr. Stewart. But please call me Ro.”
“Alrighty then, Ro. I drew up some ideas for our yoga session. I was thinking low impact thirty-five minutes to begin.”
“That’s great! Is that young man your son?”
“Yes. That’s Chase. He’s a senior at Harper-Hume Military Academy.”
“Nice! You must be proud.”
“Incredibly. He’s a good k**.”
“Is it expensive if you don’t mind me asking.”
“It costs a pretty penny, but my ex-husband was loaded. i*****lly it turns out. Now I’m flat broke. He’s on scholarship this year.”
“I’m sorry to hear…”
“Don’t be. I’m rebuilding.”
“Good for you.”

Rochelle almost felt a lump in her throat. Was she pitying this wolf in sheep’s clothing. She refocused her mind on the task at hand. “Did you draw up a menu?”

“Here,” Faith passed her a few sheets of paper. “I created a few with the recipes.”
“This is great! I’ll pick one of them. Oh and you must join us for the meal portion. I’ll have some sangria.”
“I’m not gonna turn that down.

Rochelle went back home and slept for one hour before getting up for work. Midway through her shift, she checked her phone. The boys were fine. They had put a hot chicken salad Bibi fixed and froze in a casserole dish in the oven for dinner. There was also a text from Hugo. He was confirming the meet up later that evening. She sent a reply stating she would be there.

She got a patient in cardiac arrest after that and went on auto pilot. Ultimately, they could not save the 63 year-old man with hypertension. She informed the family, consoled them as best she could, and offered them the assistance of the chaplain.

She washed up and headed to the diner. She arrived and walked inside. Higo was already seated towards the back next to the window. She signaled to the waitress that she was joining someone else. He stood as she neared the table.

“Good evening, my lady,” he greeted her warmly.
“Good evening, Hugo,” she returned.
“How are you?”
“I’m pretty good. But, I lost one tonight.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry. May I ask what it was?”
“Myocardial infarction...sudden cardiac arrest with ventricular fibrillation,” she explained the heart attack followed by the deadly SDC.”
“I’m sure you did everything you could.”
“Yeah,” she trailed off. “Let’s not talk shop.”

“Of course,” he looked at her tenderly. “Tell me about you.”
“What about me?”
“Your likes? Dislikes? Family life? Hobbies?”

Right then the waitress arrived. “Y’all ready to order?”
“Give you two minutes, please,” he begged. He turned towards Ro. “I come here to get the poutine.”
“What’s that?”
“A Canadian hangover dish,” he chortled. “French fries topped with cheese curds and gravy.”
“Oh wow! That sounds terrible,” she laughed. “Wanna split an order.”
“A woman after my own heart. Anything else?”
“Hmmmm. I’ll do the half and half. Chicken caesar wrap and Greek salad.”
“Very good. What to drink?”
“Arnold Palmer.”

“Gort it. Hang on,” he flagged the leather-faced server. He instructed her, “We’re gonna split a platter of poutine. My lady friend will have the half chicken Caesar wrap, half Greek salad. I’ll take a the Thanksgiving Feast.”
“And to drink,” the woman asked.
“An Arnold Palmer for her. Water for me.”
“Want some more coffee, sir?”
“Please.”
She topped of his cup.

“Sorry about that. The floor is all yours,” he returned his attention to Rochelle.
“Uh.,..Do you always do that?”
“Do what?”
“Order for your date?”
“Awesome! You consider this a date.”
“I didn’t say that…”
“It was implied and yes I tend to order. Does that offend you?”
“No. No, not at all. It’s just not so common these days.”
“Well, I think you’ll find I’m an uncommon man. So, let’s hear your story.”

Rochelle took a breath. “Let’s see. I love to play tennis, play board games, read, and cook. I detest long checkout lines. I grew up about two hours south of here. I have two sons, thirteen and fifteen. Adopted them two years ago. That’s me in a nutshell.”
“I know there’s so much more. I can’t wait to peel back the onion,” he grinned.
“So, you’re a psychiatrist now?”

The French fry dish arrived along with silverware. They dug in. “Oh, my god,” Rochelle remarked. “This is fabulous! Sinful, but fabulous!” He nodded agreement.

“That’s cool that you adopted them.”
“Yeah, they’re biological brothers and I wanted save a set of k**s from being split up.”
“That’s pretty noble. I feel a whole lot less accomplished now.”
“Thanks, but don’t say that. You are successful.”
“You’re too kind.”
“What about you? French. Ethiopian. Canadian. What’s the story.

“Oh, okay,” Hugo began. “My father grew up in Addis Ababa. His father was an officer in military during the Communist era. So, my dad grew up comfortably. He went to university in England. He met my mum there. She was also studying there. Afterwards, they moved to Montreal for my dad to get his Ph.D. I was born there. When I was six, we moved to Toronto.”

Rochelle gasped, “That’s really neat!”
“Oh yeah?!?!? Check this out,” Hugo grinned. “Spent a month each summer in southern France with my mum’s folks. They lived near the Mediterranean in a 17th century chateau.”
“Dang!”
“Turns out granddad was a descendent of the Dukes of Montmorency. He was part of the old noble landed gentry. Also, spent a couple weeks in Ethiopia when I was ten and again when I was f******n.”
“That sounds like such an interesting life.”
“It was cool, eh. But for me it was just life.”
“Siblings?”
“One sister. One brother. She’s social worker in Toronto. He’s a chef in New Orleans. You?”
Two brothers, one is my twin, and a sister. My twin is an allergist. My sister works in banking. My oldest brother is currently in federal prison for d**g trafficking.”
“A diverse family. It’s gonna be fun getting to know you.”

They finished the artery-clogging dish and their entrees arrived. Rochelle salivated at the sight of Hugo’s meal. There were three slices of roast turkey breast, cornbread stuffing, cranberry sauce, giblet gravy, mashed potatoes, and sweet peas. “You gonna eat all that?”

“Yes ma’am,” he winked.

They parted ways a little before midnight agreeing to meet again soon. Rochelle had to work the evening shift for the two days followed by Thursday, Friday, and Saturday off.

There was an away game Friday night. The Mustangs were again victorious over the Fordham High golden lions 20 to 9. Coree got a good bit of playing time in the second half after the first string wide receiver pulled his hamstring early in the third quarter. He posted XYZ stats.

Rochelle and Jere drove back home in the Cadillac crossover. Coree rode the team bus. Since they were still on restriction, he was not allowed to attend the ‘fifth quarter’ team rally. They waited at the Rawlston fieldhouse for the bus to arrive.

The older son climbed aboard and announced, “Hey y’all. I won the election.” His mother and brother congratulated him.

Saturday morning arrived and Mrs. Mary showed up to drive the boys to her house for the yard work. Rochelle readied the house for the yoga party. Faith was the first guest. Then, Lori Barnes, Layla’s mother, pulled up in her silver 2015 GMC Yukon. Finally, Chara Owens’ parked her deep blue 2014 Ford Edge.

Rochelle had wanted to extend an olive branch to Michael Barnes in case she came off too strong, so she had asked Coree to get Layla’s mom to call her. She was also thrilled that he had asked out the nice girl. And, he even explained why they had to wait until the following weekend to go to the movies. Of course, Chara was on the guest list. Rochelle needed to see how the two interacted in close quarters. She knew the adversaries were acquainted since Chara taught math at Rawlston Jr. High.

Faith greeted Chara, “Hello, Mrs. Owens.”
“Miss Moreland,” Chara replied dryly.

As the practiced c***d’s pose and standing dog, Rochelle was attempting to read body language and tonality. Faith was tripping over words. Chara was tenser than her or Lori it seemed. She suggested the retire to the patio for lunch. “Can you help me, Lori,” she requested.

Lori carried out the tray with the glasses and pitchers of sangria - both white & red. There was already a metal tub filled with ice containing bottled water outside. Rochelle had the Bento boxes which held a crispy tuna cakes over spinach and sliced avocado. The other three smaller compartments were filled with cherry tomatoes & petite baby carrots, walnuts, and hummus topped with cucumber slices.

“This is really delicious, Dr. Stewart,” Layla’s mother remarked.
“Thanks! Please call me, Ro.”
“Yes. It’s great,” Chara added.
“You picked a good menu,” Faith joined the chorus.
“Thanks, ladies. We don’t always pamper ourselves and I thought this would be a fun.”

There was light conversation for the next half hour. Faith lied about having another appointment. The others lingered.

Lori was first to the show. “She’s something else.”
“I know, right,” Chara snuffed.
“Oh,” Ro feigned ignorance.
“She only got the job with the district because the superintendent felt is part of the Ladies’ League and felt sorry for her. They made the budget,” the woman with the biracial c***dren gossiped.
“I know,” Chara confirmed. Then she run around the school all day bouncing her titties for those horndog boys - students and faculty.”
“Oh my goodness. I did notice they’re quite, well, large.”
“They’re fake,” Lori interjected. Dr. Moreland took her out of the trailer park and made her a society ‘grand dame’.”
“Well, enough about her,” Rochelle redirected the party. “More Sangria?”

Rochelle cleaned up after they were all gone. She called Sergei Rivera. It had been a while since he tapped her ass. He asked her to come over right then. She texted the boys that she had ro run out and hopped in the Beamer.

At Sergei’s efficiency apartment, he’d already been drinking beer. He had on green basketball shorts and no shirt. He pulled her close and lifted her tank top and sports bra from her body. He fondled her breasts. The she sucked his fat seven-inch prick.

He bent her over the bed and pounded her out doggy for a while. Finally, he put her in the buck with her legs on his shoulder. He dug in her asspussy with ferver. Ultimately, he came on her face.

He offered her some tamales with carnitas. She gladly accepted two before leaving.