Incest/Taboo Missing Dolores - A Novella

Missing Dolores -- an erotic novella

...a tale of loss, desire, incest and more by Nightwaves

With her lesbian lover away, Mom needs it. Kid sister and son provide.

Author's note: All participants are 18 years of age or older

Friday, June 7.

Memorial Day had come and gone and summer went into full swing along the coast. Kids were freed from school and beaches filled up with people, traffic, noise and chaos. Linda Anderson, as was her habit this time of year, managed to back away from a stressful job as a senior legal secretary to take her son Billy and kid sister Sarah to the small coastal village of Port Edmund for a four-day weekend. This family tradition dated back longer than anyone could remember, even before Linda was born. Even before her parents and grandparents were born. For the widowed mother, the outing allowed family time away from the usual work and school drudgery. It presented the perfect diversion and a chance for everyone to relax and reconnect, far from the trenches of daily living.

Billy, or William, Jr., which nobody called him, turned eighteen a few weeks prior and had discovered girls. He had already been out on several dates and perhaps had a steady girlfriend, all under the watchful eye of his doting mom. In the past year, his lanky, boyish physique had started to firm up. His body was quickly developing into that of an adult, although his heart and mind remained those of a youngster. Still, he was reasonably bright and happy, although the challenges of adolescence and young adulthood had created the usual friction between him and his mother. All in all, Linda was proud of her boy. He had a good soul, was respectful of his mother and minded her, for the most part. He was still unsettled as to what he would do after graduating from high school. Recently, it was a tossup between community college or trade school. Linda hoped he would earn a scholarship, but Billy didn't take enough interest in his studies to merit any accolades in spite of her constant badgering.

He's a good kid, Linda would think to herself. But, god help me, he's just not the brightest crayon in the box, or the most motivated. If I can just get him some sort of degree or certificate so he can make a decent living someday.

Then came Linda's kid sister. Sarah Trilby was, in contrast, a bright, inquisitive and somewhat cynical youth with a penchant for outspokenness and sarcasm. All of nineteen years Linda's junior, she had graduated from high school the previous year with honors. Sarah's pathway to higher education was ensured, in contrast to her nephew, with the scholarships she earned. She just needed to take the next step forward. Always a precocious child, she decided to take some time off before college to, as many young people were saying in those days, "find herself".

Linda, a hard-working single mother, became a widow shortly after Billy was born. A drunk driver took the life of William, Sr., her first and only love, leaving her devastated, without a husband, lover and confidante, plus a father for her son. That was eighteen years ago, and although she dated on and off, nobody could ever take the place of her soul mate. Still, she was a human being with needs. Most nights she had to masturbate herself to completion, sometimes more than once, to fall asleep after a hard day of work and mothering.

That particular Friday morning in early June, Linda piloted her old Mercury station wagon down a rural two-lane road, the only access to the coast, with Billy and Sarah in tow. Traffic could be heavy at times due to the usual beach crowd and Linda wondered why they hadn't improved the potholed, shoulderless stretch of pale asphalt that dared to call itself State Highway 69.

State highway, my ass. Talk about delusions of grandeur.

Linda didn't see the pothole that smacked her right front tire, sending a resounding 'thump' through the vehicle's frame followed by the agitated squeaking of metal against metal. The beast faltered slightly, wavering from its path.

"Shit," she said, gripping the steering wheel. "Sorry guys."

I'll probably need a front-end alignment when we get back home if I don't get a flat tire first!

The only good thing about potholes for Linda were the shocks they sent through her body, namely her neglected pussy. She squirmed somewhat, in spite of her annoyance, feeling the blood surge to her lady parts. Her two passengers remained silent, oblivious. Billy sat in the back, a little transistor radio pressed to his ear as he watched the scenery amble past. Sarah rode shotgun with her older sister, legs curled up, engrossed in a lurid paperback romance novel. As the throbbing subsided, Linda glanced over to the waifish-looking blonde.

"My god, I'll never understand how you can read in a moving vehicle without getting nauseated." � � �

"It doesn't bother me. I'm fine." She didn't even look up from her page. "Sounds like your problem, Sis." A smirk crossed her mouth.

Linda reached over and slapped her kid sister's thigh playfully. "You brat!" She said with an unconvincing voice, keeping her eyes on the road. Her hand lingered on Sarah's soft, warm flesh, giving it a loving squeeze. Her voice returned to normal. "I'm glad you chose to come with us this year. I know how independent you're getting."

Sarah grunted, having returned to the trashy, lusty world of her romance novel. Linda took a few seconds to gaze at Sarah's profile, then down to her hand, still on her sister's thigh.

Jesus, at last, I think this poor kid is filling out. If she keeps this up she'll be looking like a full-grown woman.

Still, Linda didn't approve of her sister's attire that day, or most days since the chill of late spring gave way to balmy, then downright warm, sunny days. Sarah wore familiar attire - a tiny pair of shorts and snug tank top. Underneath was a hint of a bra, which Linda insisted she wear if she was going to come along on the trip, both for the sake of her almost-adult son and any strange men who might take interest.

I'm afraid she wouldn't be any competition for the buxom beach bunnies we're going to see, but she might attract a few pedophiles.

Sarah's idea of clothing would've been unacceptable for a more well-endowed woman. However, for the most part, she still had the body of a child, with long, slender legs, a flat butt and almost non-existent breasts. There was a good reason for the young woman's slight build. She and Linda had both suffered another tragedy, also many years ago. Their mother, a middle-aged woman who had been in ill health for many years, died while giving birth prematurely to Sarah.

The pregnancy was an accident, as there was no plan for another child. Their mother had almost died giving birth to Linda some nineteen years prior, and the mere fact doctors detected another pregnancy came as a shock. Although they could have aborted the fetus, Mom was a trooper and refused to extinguish a new life, even if carrying it to term meant losing her own.

Mom got her wish.

Sarah was barely able to live outside the womb at first, and the doctors didn't expect her to survive, but to everyone's surprise, she clung to life. For months, she needed round the clock care but, in time, the tiny infant improved.

Their father, now a widower, had no choice but to take an extra job to pay off the mountain of medical bills that had accrued. Linda, by that time, had graduated from high school and took a clerical job to help support the family. The following year, she married, and both she and her new husband William made sure the bills were paid and the family remained solid.

Now back to the present.

Sarah had been dating for a couple of years and, although Linda was not technically her mother, she had fallen into the role shortly after her sister's birth. Linda watched Sarah's activities with an eagle eye, even insisting on having the "Birds and Bees" talk with her.

"Oh, Jesus, Sis," Sarah rolled her piercing blue eyes. "I know all about that. I'm not going to let some guy get me pregnant and ruin my life."

Linda pondered that conversation from time to time. In hindsight, it seemed her kid sister knew more about the ways of the world than she.

Fine by me. I must accept that she's an adult now and will do adult things, damn it all.

Still, the mere thought of Sarah getting into any sexual activity with a strange boy her age or, god forbid, a grown man, made her head shake involuntarily with worry.

"Here we are, kids." Linda announced their arrival in Port Edmund. A time-worn metal sign sporting a rusted bullet hole and a few streaks of bird shit announced "Population 345". Of course, that was in the off-season. During the summer it was five times that much, easily, and probably more. All of the dingy mom and pop motels and motor courts that lie vacant for months were suddenly filled to capacity. Fleas and bedbugs abounded.

Sarah looked up from her book, grimacing as Linda slowly piloted the Mercury down Main Street. "Holy shit, what an obscene amount of people!" She tucked her book away in the glove compartment and sat upright to better survey her surroundings. "Yecch." She put on her sunglasses as if to shield herself from the unpleasant vision.

"Ah, the usual hoi polloi, sweetheart," Linda replied facetiously, her forehead, neck and chest starting to glisten. A pleasant breeze had accompanied them as the station wagon moved down the highway, before they were forced to slow down, but now, at a turtle's pace, the heat began to set in. She had thought ahead and wore a short skirt and minimal top with spaghetti straps, revealing a considerable amount of pale, freckled skin. She had also taken the liberty of spreading thick, white beach towels on the Mercury's vinyl seats to keep everyone from sticking to them.

Nothing like getting out of the car after a long, hot drive and ripping the flesh from the backs of my thighs!

She didn't believe, at age thirty-eight, anyone would give her a second glance, even with the skimpy attire. True, she was no beauty queen. Hard work, child rearing and the passage of time had etched a few furrows in her brow, wrinkles around her eyes and mouth, and numerous grey strands streaked her brown locks. Her D-cup breasts drooped a bit, nipples thick and erect most of the time, the result of breastfeeding plus years of abuse while pleasuring herself on those countless lonely nights. � � �

Linda's eyes darted from side to side as she observed the sea of humanity surrounding her. Everyone was milling about without a care, exposing their imperfect bodies, pot bellies, sagging breasts and stretch marks, near-naked in some instances.

I doubt a matronly old cow like me would cause much of a stir.

Linda didn't think of herself as any better than the crowd, or not that much better. She kept close watch as the vehicle crept along through the churning sea of oiled flesh, careful not to run over anyone oblivious to the striped, paved road under their feet.

"I'm glad our old place is far away from this madness. Otherwise, I wouldn't bother."

"Our family estate," Sarah said with a hint of mockery.

"It's not much, honey," Linda replied, "but it's better than mixing it with this bunch." She eyed a group of hunky, almost-naked Neanderthals packed together by a ramshackle burger stand off to the right and noticed Sarah had as well. Immediately, Linda spoke up.

"Oh, Jesus, Sarah, don't even think about it," she said, although the thought of one or more of them ravishing her against her will flashed through her mind. A man hadn't been between her thighs in years, and what orgasms she'd experienced recently came from her own hand and, a few times, a convenient doorknob or bedpost.

Christ, those guys look like they're full of come and would never stop.

"It doesn't hurt to look, Sis." Sarah lifted her sunglasses, turning her head as they disappeared into the rear view mirror. "I am an adult now."

"Yes, yes, you keep telling me that, but are you ready for what comes with being all grown up is what I'm worried about." Linda wriggled her ass against the towel again, her pussy clenching and throbbing involuntarily, surprised at how her body reacted to the sight of those musclebound boys.

Goddamn!

"Oh, relax." Sarah turned back to her sister, the hunks having vanished into the distance. "I know about the birds and bees. You told me all about them, remember?" The sarcasm had returned. Linda huffed.

What a smartass.

"Well, at least there's that." She replied with equal snark. Linda wondered if her sweet, little kid sister was still a virgin, but she would never breach the topic with Sarah. There were times she couldn't help but envision, herself plagued by the constant need for a good fucking, the naked young waif being mounted by some virile stud, his buttocks tensing repeatedly as Sarah drew her legs up, whimpering as she was impaled by his massive cock. Other times, she envisioned Sarah being passed around a group of naked, granite-chested men, cocks all huge and jutting. Her kid sister surrendered to the ravishment, her body being tossed around brusquely like a rag doll.

God, I need some good, hard cock so desperately, I'm now fantasizing vicariously through Sarah! Heaven help me, I'm such a horny freak.

These thoughts only came about in the past few months. Linda blushed with shame and arousal as she tried to fight off the vision, but it kept returning, much to her dismay. She knew the fantasies were what she wanted for herself, but for some reason, little Sarah became the recipient.

I just can't fathom this little girl doing anything sexual, but she's right. She's legally an adult, all grown up.� � �

Linda tried to ignore the moist fire smoldering in her pussy, diverting her thoughts back to driving and one particular middle-aged woman in an old-fashioned one-piece flowered swimsuit who stood in the middle of the road, just beyond the Mercury's hood ornament, mouth agape. The woman seemed transfixed by something on the horizon. Linda huffed, tilting her head to the side, eyes glaring from behind her big Jackie-O sunglasses.

What the hell?

Linda briefly pressed on the chrome horn ring, letting a throaty, two-tone blast escape from behind the car's grille.

Anytime, honey.

The rubbernecking woman, seemingly oblivious to the loud noise only a few feet away, looked everywhere but Linda's car, scratched her butt, then waddled away.

About fucking time.

The tires started rolling again, emitting a low crunch from a scattering of errant stones on the asphalt.

As Sarah's virtual mother, Linda's maternal quest was to make certain her kid sister stayed out of trouble and, although she couldn't monitor her constantly, she was going to make damn sure Sarah enrolled in the local community college that fall before she got too lost in finding herself. Or into a bad crowd. Or, god forbid, with an unwanted pregnancy. Right now, she just wanted one peaceful weekend of sun, beach and sparkling sea with her son and sister.

The old family house was a weather-beaten two-story structure, on a small parcel of beachfront property, situated atop a brownish-green hillock. White lead paint flaked from the wood, exposing occasional spots of speckled grey. A minor landmark for locals, it overlooked a clean, wide stretch of sand punctuated on one side by a huge outcropping of jagged rocks. Day and night, waves pounded against the craggy mound.

Linda's father hated the noise, which was another reason he often passed on family sojourns to the beach, but Linda didn't mind. As a child, the regular crashing of water against the black rocks was like the ticking of a clock to her, dependable, also soothing and strangely peaceful. As she grew into adolescence, then adulthood, the sound became more like the rhythm of a lover's body. The constant noise of the waves served as a stimulant on those many nights she spent in the master bedroom, alone, masturbating herself through orgasm after orgasm.

The property was part of a once-vast spread, which had been in the family since Linda's great-great grandfather purchased it from local natives for a handful of prized horses and cattle. Most of the land was sold off as years passed, bit-by-bit, until only a few acres remained. Linda liked the fact that the beach house was miles from town, far enough to get away from most of the madding crowds.

"Here we are!" She announced, brakes squeaking as she stopped the station wagon. Linda stepped out of the vehicle to open the gate to the property. Immediately, the crashing sound of the waves, absent of the cacophony of the crowded town, enveloped her, forcing an involuntary response in her body.� � �

Oh, sweet mercy. Here we go again.

Her already-damp pussy swelled as her nipples grew erect. It was like returning home to an old, faithful lover. Still, she hid her arousal, a skill Linda had picked up over the years.

Goddamn, how many hours before I can be alone and get myself off?

The rusty old gate with an uncooperative padlock guarded two tire ruts up to the nineteenth-century clapboard structure. The idea that the gate and surrounding remnants of an ancient wrought-iron fence would keep anyone off the property had been a family joke for as long as Linda could remember. Still, she went through the yearly ritual of freeing the padlock so they could pull the Mercury up to the front porch.

"Son of a bitch," Linda hissed under her breath as she struggled with the lock, also frustrated with the throbbing wetness between her legs. By now, it was after noon, the sun was high in the sky, and her body was coated with sweat. She promised herself last year, and the year before that, she would bring a shiny new modern lock. Again, she failed.

"Why do you mess around with a padlock, anyway?" Sarah called from the station wagon. "It's pretty pointless."

"Keeping up a family tradition," Linda shouted back, eyes focused on the lock. "In other words, I have no idea." With a sharp jerk, she forced the Victorian-era beast to release its hold.

About goddamn time!

Acrid drops of sweat stung her eyes as she reared back and threw the glob of metal as far as she could. It landed somewhere in the sand with a distant thud, just beyond the yard's anemic vegetation line. "Now that will remind me to buy another lock!" Linda gripped the top of the gate with both hands and, with a series of aggressive thrusts forward, managed to push the gate open far enough to allow the car to pass.

"Oh, cry me a river!" She mocked the gate as it protested being roused from dormancy, piercing the grey, shifting noise of the sea and the distant squawking of seagulls with several sharp, metallic squeals.

Billy, who had been silent and invisible in the back seat for most of the trip, flitted past her, transistor radio in hand.

"Gotta pee, Mom," he shouted, trotting the hundred yards from the gate to the front porch. For a moment, she marveled at her son's form, clad only in purple swim trunks. She couldn't believe he was eighteen years old, legally a man. His body was quickly losing its boyish quality, becoming strong and firm.

Jesus, he's already a heartbreaker. No doubt the girls in town are going to notice. I wonder how he'll handle the attention?� � �

Linda almost shouted to him about needing a key as he hopped up the concrete steps, but did a double-take when her son twisted the doorknob and entered the house without pause. She looked down at her sandals and the chipped, red polish on her toenails, shaking her head.

"I hope Mr. Peebles turned the water back on," she said to herself in a low voice. Peebles was the now-elderly handyman who had watched over the property for several decades. Aside from checking the premises regularly, he would turn the gas, water and electricity back on and inspect the plumbing and appliances before Linda and her brood arrived.

Ah, hell. It might as well be community property. I'm just grateful somebody hasn't burned our old place to the ground.

Sarah also passed through the gate, but walked slowly, letting the sun kiss her pale skin as she inhaled the sea's salty, earthy aroma. Having struggled with health problems for a good portion of her life and spending countless lost hours in bed, she had learned patience, developing a habit of lingering, often for long periods of time, to take in her surroundings.

Linda admired this quality in her little sister, as she had always been the opposite. Her hectic professional job, plus taking care of Billy and Sarah for so many years had given her a short attention span. She developed a habit of staying alert and observant, ready to put out any fire, small or large, a trait she considered essential not only for good parenting, but for succeeding in a male-dominated world. Enjoying the moment was a rare occurrence. The beach trip was one of the few times she could step back, think about her lot, plus realize how lucky she was to have her son, her sister, and her old Dad.

I wish I could have talked him into coming, but all he wants to do these days is sit in his easy chair, watch TV and drink beer.

"Just leave the city behind and live here all year round," she had said on many occasions, usually when her stress level was peaking. "Heck, I'll do people's taxes, be a Notary Public and, if that doesn't work, I'll spread my legs and be a prostitute." This was usually an indicator she'd had enough to drink. Then she would laugh, her red-painted lips drawing back to reveal two rows of uneven pearlescent teeth, thinking how absurd the fantasy was.

Win the lottery and stay here forever. Buy the town -- hell, the whole goddamn county - and forbid any of the summer crowd to return. Take my two kids and spend day after day watching waves crash and boats cross the horizon, all going god-knows-where. Get a young manservant with a strong body and a big cock to cater to my needs.

Still, it was a fantasy she returned to time and time again, and it had helped her through many tough challenges. Linda slipped into the driver's seat, pulled the gearshift down, and passed through the gate. Once parked, she shut off the ignition, set the parking brake and opened the back of the station wagon to extract a pair of suitcases, carrying them into the house.

A stale odor met her nostrils as she entered the warm, stuffy abode.

Damn, gotta open the windows and let some of this heat escape.

She heard a toilet flush, then Billy passed her, going into the kitchen.

"I assume the plumbing works." Linda called out.

"Yep!"

Sarah still lurked outside, watching the sea and the horizon, or turning to look at the lonesome house, jutting up awkwardly from the hillock.

"Mom, I think someone's been here." Billy called from the next room.

Linda put down the suitcases near the hallway accessing the rest of the house, sniffing and crinkling her nose. Another odor, this time more foul, assaulted her olfactories. She walked toward her son's voice, joining him.

Linda entered the spare, white kitchen, looking at the dirty sleeping bags and piles of detritus that looked like they had been there for a long time. She also noticed empty beer cans and what appeared to be a square of tinfoil on the kitchen counter, holding a few depleted joints. Linda always left the place spotless and tried to secure it as much as possible before they returned to the city. This time, it was for naught.� � �

Some people are just trash.

"Yes, honey, I get the feeling this has been a popular place for the wrong crowd." She slipped her arm around Billy's shoulder and squeezed, feeling how firm it was.

Mercy, this kid's developing some muscles.

"Wasn't Mr. Peebles watching over this place for us?" Billy rested his head on his mother's shoulder, his arm going around her waist and returning the squeeze, making his mother's body flush with warmth. She exhaled.

Ah, hugs and touching. I need more of this. Can't seem to get enough.

"Dammit, I thought so." Linda furrowed her brow. "I'll go by his shop tomorrow morning and see what's up."

"Looks like no one's checked on this place since we left last year." Billy eyed the kitchen window, which was raised a couple of inches. � � � � � �

"Well, let's not wring our hands over it, honey. Let's get this place in order." She kissed her son on the top of the head, smelling his hair. Sunshine with a hint of sweat filled her nostrils. Another lingering kiss.

"Aw, Mom." Billy whined. "Stop it!" His voice didn't convince her, but she obliged.

"I can love on you if I want, kiddo, no matter how old you think you are." She patted his firm butt, giving it a squeeze, just to embarrass him more. "Now go check the rest of the house and I'll dig out some housecleaning accoutrements."

With a loud sigh, Billy disappeared down the hallway as Linda called to her sister through the grungy metal screen on the storm door.

"Sarah, I need your help, sweetheart. Please get that box of groceries from the back of the car and come inside."

Little sis lingered for a moment, still in her own world, then obeyed. She fished a large cardboard box from the Mercury's rear deck, then trotted toward the house, her long legs stretching out as she skipped a step going up to the front door.

"Oh, gross!" She retched upon entering the kitchen, glaring at the mess. "What the fuck is this?" She placed the box on the long, rustic kitchen table in the corner and stood beside her older sister.

"We're not the only ones who enjoy the family retreat," Linda squeezed Sarah to her bosom, "and when did you start using language like that?" Pressing the young woman against her body felt good, and Linda again exhaled, smiling. Not only was Sarah growing up, she was firming up as well, just like Billy.

God, where did my kids go? These two are growing up so fast.

"Oh, come on!" Sarah unconsciously rubbed her head against big sister's breasts, getting lost in a sensory moment against those soft D-cups, again making Linda's body pulse with heat. "I'm nineteen, for Christ's sake!"

Linda snorted, giving the young woman's ass a gentle squeeze, languidly kissing and nuzzling the top of Sarah's head like she had her son's.

"Yeah, well, you may be nineteen, but somebody might mistake you for twelve, so you damn well better be careful, kid!"

Sarah huffed, annoyed at the comment, but knew it was true. If only she could look her age and be treated like a grown-up! Inwardly, Linda was confused at how her sister's closeness, her face pressed against her breasts, was getting her worked up.

Damn, Linda. What the hell is wrong with you? You're so needy, now even your sister's touch gets you going? Stop!

Linda shook her troubling thoughts away and focused on the moment. "Okay, then." Big sister returned. "Do the adult thing and help me get this house into shape."

"Sure, sure..."

"You can start with opening all the windows."

"Aye aye, captain!" Sarah saluted, standing upright, knocking her bare heels together.

"Smartass." Big sister slapped her butt, launching her down the hallway.

She pushed open the back door of the kitchen, which led directly outside. Another loud squeal of metal resisting metal. Linda winced from the sound.

Jesus. Remember to get a can of 3-in-1 Oil at Mr. Peebles' place tomorrow.

Linda, like most women who had lived long enough to experience their share of joys and disappointments in life, harbored a few secrets. Something she never told Sarah was that, after her infant sister became healthy enough to live without medical assistance, Linda took over the duty of nursing her in addition to her son. After their mother's untimely death, she cared for both Sarah and Billy. It was a strange feeling in some way, her sister and son being only one year apart in age.

Linda was no slouch at producing milk. Her swollen breasts hurt and fought against her nursing bra so much she started going topless during the day when her father and husband were at work, keeping a soft terrycloth robe handy in case someone knocked at the door unexpectedly. She had no trouble feeding two, so that was what she did, and with great pride. Every few hours, she would take the babies in her arms. It would take little effort before they latched onto her now-sensitive, erect nipples.

"Ahhh..." Linda sighed as they began to feed simultaneously. She would gaze up at the ceiling and speak to her dear, departed mother. "See this, Mom?" She whispered softly. "I can feed both babies at once." She closed her eyes while they drew nourishment from her body. "Aren't you proud of me?"

Having a hungry mouth on each breast gave Linda a sense of fulfillment she had never before imagined. True, caring for two babies, day in and day out, not to mention housekeeping, was challenging for the young mother, but watching them thrive and grow, especially puny little Sarah, made it all worthwhile.

"I think we can afford a housekeeper to come in a few days a week." Her husband said, sitting at his old wooden roll-top desk, shuffling through bills under the light of a green table lamp. "What do you say?"

Linda sighed, nodding. Next thing she knew, Dolores was bustling around the house, taking up the slack, allowing Linda to pay more attention to her babies and have a few moments of peace. The women took to each other quickly, as if they had known each other all of their lives. Dolores not only kept the house spotless, she also assisted Linda in her frequent nursings, holding the infants until the young mother nestled in the big, overstuffed easy chair, then sitting at the edge of the bed, watching intently.

A local staffing agency had recommended Dolores Martinez, a dark-eyed, buxom woman with long, black hair who appeared to be slightly older than Linda. Dolores had emigrated from Mexico and eventually obtained her green card. She had cared for an elderly woman across town up until a few weeks back. Of course, the inevitable happened, leaving Dolores at liberty.

"As much as I loved Mrs. Belmont," Dolores said with a thick Spanish accent, referring to her previous job, "it was time for God to take her. Eighty-three is a good, long life, and she no longer recognized anyone. The poor woman couldn't even move." Dolores reached out to touch and rub Linda's shoulder and neck in a motherly way, gazing at her with a Mona Lisa smile while she nursed. "It hurt me so much when she stopped recognizing me. I cried and cried." � � � � � Linda nodded blissfully, eyes fluttering from the electricity sparking in her nipples, spreading throughout her entire body. Dolores continued.

"But I come from a big family, and we all lived together in one big house, so I am no stranger to this. In many ways, old people and infants are much the same. They need constant attention, don't you think?"

"Yes, I suppose so." Linda would never have a chance to watch her mother grow old, but she kept it to herself for the moment.

"Do you like to nurse? I mean..." Dolores placed her hand over her mouth, giggling, as if admitting to something naughty. "I helped my mother, a couple of aunts, and even a niece, when they were breastfeeding. I think some women love it and some hate it." She hesitated, as if embarrassed by her words. "Either they can't wait to wean their babies, or they don't want to stop."

It was obvious to Linda that her new helper had much more experience in some ways than she.

"I don't know, honey." Linda's voice sounded far away, barely disturbing the still air of the room. "I'm so new to this, I don't know what to think, but if I had to guess, for me it would be the latter." The young mother let out a heavy sigh. "This just feels so good, and so satisfying."

Dolores giggled again, eyes wide as she watched the hungry mouths at work. "I think this is a sign you will be a good mother."

Of course, for Linda, the sensation of nursing her babies was in no conceivable way sexual, but sensual. Dolores helped her care for her often-sore nipples, applying Vaseline to them when they were red and cracked. The young woman sighed as slick fingers traced around her puckered areolas and now permanently-erect buds. Linda was so grateful for the addition of an older, more experienced woman, and that her husband thought of getting help. In a very short time, they became intimate friends. In some ways, Dolores became Linda's surrogate mother. For a brief, precious moment, peace reigned over the house.

Then came the car crash. The coroner offered cold comfort to Linda, saying her husband probably didn't see it coming and died instantly. The offending driver, his blood alcohol well beyond the legal limit, was put behind bars, this not having been his first offence.

Every Sunday, at least for a while, Linda visited William's grave at Parklawn Cemetery.

"Honey, how can I live without you?" Kneeling next to the headstone, her hand caressing the cold marble, Linda held a white handkerchief to her face with the other hand. Dolores stood beside her, again caressing her neck and shoulder, a tear streaking down her brown cheek as her new friend quivered and sobbed with grief.

For weeks following the tragedy, Linda struggled with shock and sorrow, virtually paralyzed. Many times she woke in the night and reached out for her man, only to find an empty space. Linda's father remained solid, working even longer hours to compensate for the financial loss, but the quiet, taciturn man had difficulty responding to her emotional needs. Immediately, Dolores made arrangements to stay with her around the clock.

"No, no, Dolores." Sylvia sobbed into her friend's bosom. "We can't afford to have you here all the time. I'm sorry."

"This is not about money, my love," Dolores whispered in the dark stillness of the bedroom. The babies had been fed and were fast asleep. Sylvia felt warm breath caress her cheek as comforting arms surrounded her. "This is about helping you get through the night, however long it takes, if you will allow me."

A grateful Linda pressed her face against Dolores's soft cotton nightgown, breathing deeply, hands grasping her friend's waist. She sensed a thick, hard nipple pressing against her face through the fabric. For a moment, she wondered what Dolores's nipple would feel like in her mouth, then quickly banished the thought.

"My angel." Dolores closed her eyes, exhaling audibly as she rested her head against Linda's. "I have no one else to care for in this country." She chuckled. "You give me something to do."

That was the first chuckle Linda managed since her husband's death.

"I don't want to be nosy, but..." Linda looked up at her friend's face. "You're so beautiful and warm. I can't believe the right man hasn't come along."

Dolores remained silent, looking at the wall. Linda immediately regretted asking the question.

Why did you ask her? Stupid! Stupid!

"I'm so sorry, Dolores. It's none of my business."

"I cannot have children," the older woman said plainly.

"Oh, honey." For a moment, Linda transcended her grief, reaching out to touch Dolores's face.

"And the man I was with in Mexico turned out to be a son-of-a-bitch."

Linda stroked her friend's cheek.

"My darling," she said. Linda had trouble finding the right words. This was the first she'd heard of someone in Dolores's life at any time, past or present. She wanted to hear more, but quelled the impulse to ask again. "Please, you don't have to tell me anything. You know I care about you and your well-being as you do for me."

But Dolores had a story to tell.

"Only after we were married did I discover he was in a drug gang. He was no good. I was young and stupid and he fooled me. He also hurt me, more and more as the days went on, especially after he found out I was barren." Dolores sobbed, a tear streaking down her cheek. Creases and furrows seemed to cover her entire face as she remembered those bad times. "I wasn't sad when the Federales shot him down. I would rather be a widow than a punching bag." She looked down at Linda, as if returning from some far-away place. "Is that wrong? Does that make me a bad person?"

"Oh, no, my love." Linda rose toward the Dolores's gentle breath, almost touching her friend's face. She quelled the impulse to kiss her full, lush lips, but at the moment, it felt so natural. "I can't imagine having someone who's supposed to love you so much doing that."

"Once he discovered I couldn't produce a son, he started seeing other women. I didn't want to catch their disease, so there was no sex after that, even though he tried to beat me into submission."

Linda was still so young and naïve and had never been in an abusive relationship. She only knew the pain of her mother's, then her husband's, deaths. Dolores had a three-inch-long scar underneath her chin. Nothing major, but it was clearly a past injury which Linda noticed shortly after the woman arrived. She now wondered if it was a product of the abuse. It was as if Dolores was reading her mind.

"The wounds healed and my bruises went away, but I made a promise to myself to never give my heart to any man ever again." More tears tracked down Dolores's cheeks.

"Oh, no, Dolores." Linda's voice cracked. Her grief, never far from the surface, had returned. "You surely must know not every man is like that." She, too, found herself sobbing. "My husband is a perfect..." She couldn't finish. By then, both women wept in silence, their bodies pressing against one another's, as they processed sadness and loss, both past and present.

"Please stay with me." Linda finally kissed Dolores on the mouth. The older woman didn't respond, but neither did she pull away.

Dolores took up occupancy in the adjacent bedroom. A connecting door joined the rooms, which came in handy especially as they went about their nocturnal routine. Nursing could be fulfilled, diapers changed and whatnot. Often they played gin rummy and listened to the little radio on the nightstand without disturbing Linda's sleeping father on the other side of the house. Days turned into weeks, which turned into months, but Dolores persevered, slowly pulling her ward back into the world of the living. The two women formed an even closer bond.

"Mom," Billy called from one of the ground floor bedrooms. "Somebody peed on this mattress or something. At least it smells like it."

Linda walked into the bedroom to be greeted with more feral odors.

"Goddammit," she hissed in a low voice, again wondering why the hell Mr. Peebles hadn't checked on the house as he promised last summer and every summer before that. "Well, check the upstairs bedroom, son. See if that's anything you'd sleep on."

Billy bounded up the creaky stairs, disappearing to the abbreviated second floor. Linda could hear him walking around the bedroom, inspecting the closet and looking out each window.

"Well?" She called up through the ceiling, waiting a few beats impatiently.

"Everything looks okay up here," his muffled voice replied.

"Okay, then it's yours. Sarah and I will share the bedroom down here."

"Thanks, Mom."

"And open all the windows while you're up there."

"Okay."

Linda could hear wood scraping against wood as her son forced the old windowpanes to abide. More footsteps and creaking as Billy came back down the stairs.​