Amandas Story
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Amanda's ChoiceChapter 1 free porn video
"Oh, no."
Amanda's gait slowed now as she approached her house. The small twinge of fear she had first felt when she had turned the corner, when she was still far enough away that she could be mistaken, now became a twisted knot of anxiety settling into her stomach. Now that she was close enough, there was no denying the very distinctive blue-gray Chevy with the nicked front fender and the ding in the driver's side door.
Amanda's heart sank. She was afraid to go inside now. What state was her father in now? Were they only waiting now for her to get home to take her away? Did her father finally fall off at the wrong moment?
She made a face. No, not her father. Foster father only. As the insufferable woman that owned this car was fond of reminding them. Amanda wished it were otherwise, but the days when that might have become a reality have passed.
Amanda took a deep breath and headed up the walk.
"Now, Mr. Consco," she said, peering at him imperiously over her narrow-lensed glasses, her face creased in polite disdain, "Let me get to the point. It has come to the attention of my office that you have recently lost your job."
Frank Consco simply nodded at this point, his hands clenched tightly in his lap to stop them from fidgeting nervously. He kept his steady but tired eyes focused squarely on the social worker, resisting the urge to try to pat down his flyaway graying hair yet again.
"Needless to say, this is not considered conducive to producing a good home for your foster daughter. The child needs a stable environment, and this girl will not receive that if..."
"Amanda, Ms. Mallard."
Joan Mallard, unaccustomed to being interrupted, sat nonplussed for a moment before slowly removing her glasses and fixing her icy blue gaze on Frank. "Come again, Mr. Consco?"
"Her name is Amanda, Ms. Mallard," Frank said, a slight edge to his voice despite the haggard, spent look on his face.
Ms. Mallard gave one of those tiny little suffering sighs, the kind that a child might hear from a grade school teacher. "I am well aware of the child's name," she said coolly.
"Then please use it, Ms. Mallard. Stop treating her as a thing."
Ms. Mallard visibly bristled, sitting up in her seat. "I would advise you, Mr. Consco, to please refrain from telling me how to do my job. Just because you do not have one any longer does not mean..."
Ms. Mallard fell silent when the key turned in the lock in the entry hall.
A smile came to Frank's lips despite the tension, his eyes softening as they gazed on his daughter. His daughter. He considered her this despite the fact that the foster care system said otherwise. "Hi, princess," he said wanly.
Amanda smiled nervously at her foster father. She took a few steps into the room and stopped when Ms. Mallard fixed that steely gaze upon her.
Amanda hated Ms. Mallard. Of all the officious, uncaring people she had to put up with in the foster care system, this woman was the worst of them. Arrogant, condescending, and nosy, nothing that Frank could do would please her.
Of course, the truth of the matter was, unfortunately, that Frank had been doing little to earn any praise in this area.
"Good afternoon, Amanda," Ms. Mallard said, eyes unblinking and penetrating.
Amanda just gave a single nod as she stepped further into the room, eyes flickering out into the dining room. She drew in her breath quickly as she spotted something on the table, but it was only a soda bottle. Her gaze alighted everywhere, looking, searching, heart pounding at what she might see, at what she had no chance to clean up before Ms. Mallard had arrived. Damn the woman for choosing to come while Amanda was still in school!
"I said, good afternoon, Amanda," Ms. Mallard repeated a little more loudly, her lips pursed in disapproval.
"Um, good afternoon, Ms. Mallard," Amanda mumbled. She stopped in front of the sofa where Ms. Mallard and Frank were sitting.
Ms. Mallard made a small face and sighed through her nose. "Really, Mr. Consco. I would expect you to have instilled better manners on the child -- on Amanda -- by this time."
Frank felt a little more relaxed in the presence of his daughter. "She is quite fine in that regard, Ms. Mallard," he said evenly, some fire returning to his eyes. "I have no discipline problems with her whatsoever."
Amanda managed to smile slightly at this praise, appreciating the expression on Ms. Mallard's face at this quiet rebuke. The next moment, Ms. Mallard shifted in her seat, sliding her legs back as she was about to reach for her glass of water on the end table next to her, when the heel of her shoe struck something that had been protruding from under the sofa, knocking it to one side.
Amanda uttered a frightened gasp. She looked and saw a glint of glass. When Ms. Mallard glanced down to see what her foot had hit, Amanda said quickly, "Uh, Ms. Mallard, what... what do we owe this visit?"
Ms. Mallard abandoned her investigation of the bottom of the sofa and looked up, flashing Amanda a patronizing smile as she picked up her glass of water. "Nothing that would concern a child's ears, Amanda," she said smoothly.
"Fourteen is hardly a 'child', Ms. Mallard," Frank said. He turned to his daughter, ignoring the social worker's indignant expression, and said in a soft, polite voice, "Ms. Mallard wished to express concern over my unemployment, princess."
Amanda swallowed. Her eyes kept flashing back down to the sofa. She was too nervous to reply.
"I was about to inform her that I have lined up an interview for a new job a week from now."
Amanda's eyes widened. "You have?" she cried, delighted.
"You have?" said Ms. Mallard, nowhere near as pleased.
"As you said yourself, Ms. Mallard, it would not be, ah, conducive to Amanda's life for me to be unemployed for any length of time."
Ms. Mallard gave Frank a dark gaze, as if expecting him to wither under the assault. When Frank did nothing of the kind, she said simply, "I see."
"Then there's no problem, is there, Ms. Mallard?" Amanda said, unable to stop a little trace of smugness from creeping into her voice.
Ms. Mallard's eyes were icicles. Amanda felt a twinge of guilt for her cheekiness, but it passed quickly.
Ms. Mallard took a sip of her water and slipped her glasses on again, dropping her eyes down to the open folder in her lap. "A job, Mr. Consco," she said, placing faint emphasis on his name as if making a point to ignore Amanda. "Is not the only thing that a child needs from her foster father. And be aware, Mr. Consco, that we are especially strict with single parent households."
Amanda caught the look of pain in Frank's eyes and felt her hands clench. How many more times did this loathsome woman need to remind them of their loss?
"Furthermore," Ms. Mallard continued. She swept an arm across to return her glass to the end table. "I must say that I have been hearing some disturbing..."
Her foot again struck the object under the sofa and made it thunk against a sofa leg.
Oh no! Amanda thought.
Ms. Mallard sighed in irritation and looked down, her eyes spying the bit of glass protruding from under the sofa. She reached out with her free hand.
"Let me get that for you, Ms. Mallard!" Amanda cried, and started to drop to her knees, but to her horror saw that Ms. Mallard was going to get there first. A scant second before Ms. Mallard's hand was about to close about the round, shiny object under the sofa, Amanda purposely knocked the glass from the social worker's hand and upended the water into her lap.
Both Ms. Mallard and Frank leapt up from the sofa, the former making sounds of surprise and disgust as the water soaked her paperwork and her dress. Papers that managed to remain dry slipped out of her folder and onto the floor and sofa.
"I'm terribly sorry, Ms. Mallard!" Amanda exclaimed, trying to feign a look of horror to cover her relief.
Behind Ms. Mallard, Frank covered his mouth to hide a smirk. "Shall I get you a towel, Ms. Mallard?"
"I would say you both have done quite enough!" Ms. Mallard declared. "Clumsy child!"
Amanda said nothing. Instead she picked up the dropped papers, surreptitiously kicking the object further under the sofa. She presented the papers to the social worker, who snatched them angrily from her hand.
Ms. Mallard rounded on Frank. "Be aware, Mr. Consco," she said in a biting voice. "That I am devoting almost all of time to this case. I have grown increasingly wary of this arrangement since your wife died."
Frank heaved a sigh, his eyes growing misty. "I understand, Ms. Mallard."
"That woman would have been a stabilizing influence on this family, something that is sorely needed about now, if half the things I am hearing about you are true. Furthermore, if that woman had been..."
"Her name was Rose, Ms. Mallard," Amanda snapped.
"Amanda, please," Frank said gently, though his voice was strained with emotion.
Ms. Mallard put her hands on her hips. "And are you both going to continue to correct me while I am here?"
"Only when you're wrong, ma'am," Amanda said before she could stop herself.
"Amanda," Frank said more firmly.
Ms. Mallard's lips became a thin line. She brushed water hastily from herself, though by now it had so thoroughly soaked her dress that it was a fruitless gesture. "Mr. Consco, consider yourself on notice," Ms. Mallard said darkly as she hastily gathered her things, shaking water from her folder. "I will be checking on you a week hence. If you do not have a new job secured at that time, I will seriously reconsider this arrangement."
"Yes, Ms. Mallard, I understand," Frank said evenly. When Ms. Mallard stormed for the door, Frank jogged a few steps behind her. "Allow me to show you..."
"I will let myself out!"
The front door slammed shut behind her.
Frank sighed, but a small smile played as his lips as he turned to face his daughter. "Amanda, don't get any ideas that you should act like that towards her again, but I have to admit, you got her good."
Amanda was in no mood to be placated. If anything, she was even more angry with her foster father. "This is not the least bit funny! You almost ruined everything. I thought you had stopped!"
Frank gave his daughter a gentle smile. He stepped forward and reached down under the sofa, and pulled out the object that Ms. Mallard's foot had struck.
Amanda's mouth dropped open. It was a small decorative glass orb.
She looked over to the orb's matching wire stand on the coffee table and indeed found it empty. She sighed and dropped to her knees and peered under the sofa.
Two lamp-like amber eyes stared placidly back at her.
"Blackie, you're on your last life, you know that?" Amanda admonished the feline, but her voice was shaky with relief. She felt silly now for having made the mistake. The orb was not very large, perhaps no more than a golf ball, and tinged red in color. Yet in her panic, she had mistaken its glassy sheen and roundness for the neck of an empty liquor bottle.
She looked up at her father and said sheepishly, "I'm sorry."
"It's okay, princess," Frank said softly. "God knows you have every right to not trust me."
Amanda stood. "Oh, don't say that."
"No, it's true. You deserve better than me."
Amanda's eyes glistened. She hated it when he said things like that. He and Rose had been been the best thing to happen to Amanda. After bouncing around the foster system for years, Frank and Rose had taken her in when she was ten, and she quickly discovered she had found a family that not only wanted her, but that she loved as well. They would have started adoption proceedings when Amanda was 13.
Would have. Until Frank heard the worst words any married man can hear: "Your wife has cancer."
Frank placed a slightly shaking hand on Amanda's shoulder. "But I'm really trying this time, Amanda. I haven't touched any for a week. Not a drop."
Amanda nodded quietly. She knew. She always covered for Frank, cleaning up his empties, making excuses for him at the office when he could not get out of bed, hiding his car keys whenever he started drinking. It was one excuse too many that finally got him fired.
"If I can get this job, Amanda, this will turn things around, I feel it. I'll be too busy to want to drink anymore."
Amanda managed a small smile. She sincerely hoped he was right. But she also knew what he needed was some way to forget his pain, and that was something no job could ever do. She also knew if she continued this conversation any further, she was going to burst into tears.
"I want to go out to the park again today. Is that okay?" Amanda asked.
"You've been going there an awful lot the past few weeks."
Amanda smiled. It was genuine now. "I know. I... it's just been such a warm spring." She hoped that was enough explanation for him.
"So long as you get back in time for dinner."
"I will."
"Then go ahead. I love you, princess."
"I love you, too," she said softly as she headed for the stairs.
Amanda tried to forget how frustrated the social worker made her feel as she entered her room, tossing her schoolbooks onto the bed and rushing over to the dresser.
A job! Could her foster father really pull it off? Could he stay sober long enough to land it? She had to hope he would. He was right, he had not touched any alcohol in almost a week. Amanda would know. Even at his worst, he never hid it from her, other than to squirrel himself away in the bedroom when he drank. He never left the house except to get groceries, Amanda always finding him puttering about the place when she came home from school, doing tasks around the house to pass the time.
Amanda tossed a pair of shorts and a T-shirt on the bed. She allowed herself a small smile. If he got that job, surely Ms. Mallard would have to stop hounding them. Whatever rumors she may be hearing about him, without proof she couldn't do anything. If he got a job, and if stayed sober...
If if if.
No. She had to be optimistic. This was a turning point. Maybe Frank's grief for Rose was finally abating. Maybe now Amanda actually had good news to tell Sirinna for once.
Amanda uttered a soft sigh as she started unbuttoning her blouse, moving a little faster now in anticipation. The last year since Rose's death had been hell for her, but the past three weeks had been made tolerable thanks to Sirinna. Until she met Sirinna, Amanda had no one to talk to, no one to confide in about her troubles. The first time she opened up to Sirinna, Amanda had cried for the first time in grief over her foster mother, and Sirinna had comforted her.
Amanda slipped her blouse from her shoulders, her young, round breasts held by a lacy white bra. She tugged a bit at the straps, the flesh bouncing lightly, and ran her hands under the cups, adjusting them a bit. She briefly glanced at herself in the mirror on the closet door. Sirinna had been right, these did make her bosom hang more naturally.
Amanda pulled off her jeans, matching panties covering her crotch, though little else, the rear piece rather narrow, letting much of her backside show. Until she met Sirinna, she never considered herself attractive. With everything as bad as it had been at home, such things were far from her mind. She glanced at herself again and pulled up the panties on one side where the jeans had tugged it down her hip.
She flushed slightly. She still felt a little daring to be wearing something like this. She never would have thought to try it until Sirinna had suggested it. She didn't think it would make a difference, since it was under her clothes, but Sirinna thought it looked nice.
She slipped into the shorts. That had been Amanda's idea, since the weather warmed up about a week ago, but it seemed to please Sirinna, and earned her more compliments on her looks.
Amanda pulled on the T-shirt and looked at herself in the mirror again. She lifted her black hair from under the shirt and let it spill about her shoulders. She felt like a different person when she was going to go see her friend. At home, Amanda felt responsible for things, she felt like she was being forced to be an adult before her time. With the social worker, she felt like a child, helpless against the whims of others. Sirinna made her feel somewhere in between. She could be just Amanda, a fourteen-year-old girl, in need of comfort and someone that could make her feel good about herself.
Yet the past few days, the anticipation with which she greeted her visits with her friend held a tingle of excitement as well. She did not just feel good about herself when she was with Sirinna. She felt attractive as well. She felt wanted. She desired Sirinna's company on a level she did not quite understand fully, yet it was enough to make her feel slightly flushed whenever she thought about being with the woman.
She felt something warm and soft twine about her feet. She reached down and collected the black cat in her arms, looking into his large eyes and scratching him behind his ears. "Stop making me think there are empties under the sofa, you dumb cat," Amanda said in an affectionate voice.
Blackie simply closed his eyes halfway and purred.
Sirinna draped her arms along the back of the bench and stretched out her legs, a small smile on her lips as she tilted her head back, enjoying the feel of the afternoon sun's warmth on her lithe body. Purple-pink petals from the blooming tree behind her lay strewn over the ground at her sandal-clad feet, a few having fallen onto her simple white pullover dress, or lodged in her long, silvery-blond hair.
Sirinna turned slightly and drew her legs in, her body moving easily under the light, thin material of the dress, the swellings of her bosom rolling unfettered. This was as little attire as she dared. Already she had been wearing far more for far longer than she could remember. It was so odd at first for her, but now she believed she was more used to it. She wondered how the others managed to do it.
She let her pale blue eyes slide over the scenery, taking note of the others in the park. No one paid much notice to her. Sirinna was relieved it had not started to wear off. They had insisted that it would not, but where she had never done this before, she had only their word to go on. She wished it worked strongly enough for her to go completely bare, but she did not want to push it that far.
Sirinna was happy it was enough that she did not have to wear underthings.
She saw movement coming towards her from down the path, and her smile widened as she saw Amanda walking towards her. Sirinna had been thrilled when the girl started wearing more revealing clothing without being asked. Her shorts showed off her beautiful, lithe legs, the shirt allowing the perfect roundness of her petite but wonderfully shaped breasts to show. She had grown a bit on the tall side for her age, yet unlike other girls Sirinna had seen like this, the rest of her body had filled out at the same pace. She appeared more as a graceful young woman than as a child. Yet her face was so much like that of a sweet, innocent young girl, it was as if part of her was trying to hold on to a childhood that she perhaps had not yet realized had already slipped away.
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