Left Behind Ch. 02

Dave's van rolled across valleys and hills to the little peninsula. The eight threw blankets and folding chairs on the cliff atop Bodega Head. Sammy and Lily cuddled together on one blanket; Rosa sat between Dave and Ayesha on another, arms around shoulders, snuggled cozily. Shari, Lyn, and Pietro occupied the shaky chairs and passed a joint.

The sun touched the cloudless Pacific. "Oooohhh..." they all whispered when the green flash sparked the horizon for a brief moment. An offshore wind carried hints of salt and spices and long-drowned treasure. Gulls squawked.

All were subdued on the drive inland. Sammy and Lily necked in the Econoline's back seat. Rosa rode shotgun across from Dave.

"This has been real nice," Rosa said quietly. "I only arrived a couple days ago and I already feel like I belong here. I sure hope things work out."

Dave reached to tap her thigh. "I hope so too." She tingled.

"I think we'll be friends," Ayesha murmured from behind them. "I know I'll like working with you. We'll make sure you don't want to leave."

"Anybody have plans for tonight?" Dave kept his eyes on the road.

"Yeah, a good sleep!" Rosa laughed. "I'm beat from today and I've got way too much to do tomorrow, starting early. Visit too many offices, fill out too many forms, probably play too many games. Hijole,, what a mess. Let's talk in a few days, okay?"

"I'm crawling in early tonight too," Ayesha agreed. "Got to make an early start in the morning. Sorry, Dave, you're on your own again."

Lily called from in back. "If you'd like to go hear Steve's group play, we'll come along. We can tell our folks we've been in church. They'll hate that," she giggled, "but at least they won't worry."

Rosa phoned Serena to arrange her ride. "After Dave drops you off, just walk two blocks north. I'm at DeSchmire. Come on, I'll split a bowl of gazpacho with you; you'll love it! See you in a few minutes."

Rosa had been in open-plan eateries before -- just one big room in this old house, with the kitchen area barely delineated from the rest. She was NOT used to a waiter on roller skates navigating sinuously between the tightly-packed tables. Mmmm, that soup sure was good!

"Thanks for getting me out and going today." Rosa leaned back in the passenger seat as Serena drove them home. "That was great. You do this every weekend?"

"Whenever the weather isn't too bad, sure. If there's heavy rains, we may stomp through redwood groves -- those are pretty sheltered. Otherwise, we're up in the hills or out on the coast. We'll go to Salt Creek State Park next week for a bit of both. We avoid the steep slopes, like the roads where the Tour de France cyclists train. Lance Armstrong had a cabin there."

Serena dodged yet more reckless squirrels and rolled into her parking spot. "Want to come up for a drink and a puff? Don't worry, you'll get to bed on time for an early start in the morning."

Her condo was closed, quiet, and empty this time. No dancers, no music. The cousins lounged on the rear deck for another hour of chat and consciousness alteration before Rosa dragged herself to her studio.

MONDAY

Serena took Monday off from work to shepherd Rosa through the intricacies of adaptation.

They got to the DMV early; Rosa soon had a fresh driver's license and legal registration for her motorbike. They stopped at the data center's HR office for Rosa to formally present her application; the hiring manager seemed eager for fresh meat with her skills. The credit union officer was happy to open accounts for Rosa's money; Rosa left with new ATM and credit cards, and a safe-deposit box key. With Rosa's rental papers in hand, she quickly had a PO Box address; the post-office clerk was chirpy and efficient. A stop at the auto club office bought Rosa a membership and insurance -- AAA had the best rates and coverage, Serena said -- and a pile of maps.

The cousins drove south into Marin County for the next setups. The distance served as a communications cut-out; Rosa got another PO Box in San Rafael, and faxed from a copy center there for her Mexican divorce documents. Rosa would NOT let herself be easily tracked down!

"Any other papers or stuff you need?" Serena picked at her seafood curry. They lunched at a Thai eatery in Larkspur Landing. A light breeze brushed past their table on the bayside deck, the pylons shifting and creaking.

"I think I'm set." Rosa slurped her pad thai. "Everything, right? Except a job." And the right partner; she kept that thought to herself.

"That's coming soon," Serena promised. "I'll call my gynecologist for an appointment; get you a scrip for The Pill. You'll want a library card. Libraries here are damn useful. And a card for the community swimming pool."

Rosa joked, "Anything else? Do I need to join a country club, Sierra Club, Girl Scouts, glee club, Red Cross, biker gang? Professional associations, unions, the Rotary? How many cards should I carry?"

"Smart-ass!" Serena stabbed at a forkful of Rosa's savory noodles. "Are you a joiner? You be nice or I'll sign up up for a backgammon club." She munched the stolen pad thai. "Pretty good! Look, I know I said I took the day off, but I really should check some work at my desk. Yeah, actual paper, really archaic; but that's how it is. Let's head back, okay?"

Rosa hopped from the Celica a half-hour later and climbed to her apartment. She ran her online searches; nothing in the news, no changes to family accounts, and no word from the PI. All quiet on the western front. She changed into fresh underwear and bike leathers and zoomed northward.

She rode old country lanes past scattered farms, pastures, and vineyards, and the few remaining Gravenstein apple orchards, skirting Santa Rosa's nebulous urban limits and avoiding the commuter-frozen US-101 freeway until she was deep in the lush Russian River wine country. Good thing she had local maps!

How far did she want to ride now? Not too far; she had ridden and walked enough the last couple days to thoroughly tenderize her butt and thighs. She spun up a steep narrow road to a vantage overlooking the grape-filled empire.

Rosa booted the motorbike's kickstand and climbed down. She pulled off her helmet and shook her long black hair in the breeze. She dragged a blanket from a pannier and spread it out. She felt and heard tendons groaning as she reclined and stretched. What, only thirty-five, and I'm old already!?

She unzipped her red leather jacket and spread her arms. The stiff nipples inside her creamy sports bra pointed skyward. She idly scratched at the leather tight against her legs. Mmmm, feels nice, she thought; I could peel down and rub myself to happiness...

The late-afternoon breeze gusted and chilled her to goosebumps. No, she told herself, wait till you're back home. This is too exposed.

Back on the bike, she aimed south, taking a different route through the countryside, past wineries, hop kilns, fieldstone barns, redwood groves, rusty Quonset huts and gleaming tractors, tiny rural hamlets, and the wide autumn-dry Laguna de Santa Rosa (it would be marshy after the winter rains).

Rosa's stomach growled. Fix something at home? No, that was for the future. Right now, go for instant gratification. She rolled into a roadside bistro. The sign announced California Fusion, which seemed to mean avocado and blue cheese on everything except the peach pie. Ay yi yi.

Night had definitely fallen when Rosa parked the Husqvarna and opened her door. She knew her priorities. First, a shower. Next, comfortable clothes: loose jeans, a light coral pullover, sandals. Her favorite casual necklace, amethyst crystals on a silver chain, and a matching bracelet. Then, see if Serena was home.

Serena was indeed home; her door was unlocked. Serena was apparently not alone. Rosa heard moaning down the hallway. She crept to the bedroom door.

Serena lay on her king bed, thighs spread wide, Nguyen between them, his mouth on her pussy, her legs over his shoulders and his hands massaging her ample breasts. As Rosa watched, her cousin stiffened and uttered a low, guttural howl, like a rusty barn-door hinge on a muggy day. Her hands rose to cover his.

Serena thrashed some, and moaned; she tried to push his head away, but not too hard. He stayed in position while she struggled, then calmed. He swung around and lay next to her with his head toward the foot of the bed. He tugged at her. "Horsey time," he whispered loudly.

Serena panted as she raised herself to straddle Nguyen's hips. Rosa watched her younger cousin firmly hold his long, fat cock, aim him at her pussy, and slowly lower herself, impaling herself, drawing moans from both.

Rosa felt waves of excitement wash over her. She thought, oh fuck, that is hot! She unconsciously stroked herself. She was dimly aware of the scent of her arousal bleeding into the pheromone-laden air.

Serena, engaging Nguyen, had scrunched her eyes shut. She raised and lowered herself on him while he held her hips. Her eyes opened; she saw the voyeur.

"Oh fuck, Rosa, oh fuck, this is great! You gotta try Guy's tongue! His tongue -- oh fuck, what he can do with it! Oh fuck, ohhhh..." Serena moved faster, rolling and rocking, riding him like a seahorse, her breasts swinging like kelp pods in a tidal current.

Nguyen twisted his head around to look at Rosa. He smiled and waggled his tongue at her. "Want some?" He turned back to Serena and raised his mouth to a fat nipple. She groaned. He looked at Rosa again. "Get it while you can!"

Caught! Yeah, Rosa thought, I could use some tongue. But... with Serena riding Guy? "Ummm, are you sure you want to share him?"

"Oh, you have GOT to feel what he can do! Yeah, get up here, ah, ahhh..."

Rosa was convinced. She slipped off her jewelry and clothes and dumped them in a chair. She settled astride his dark, wet face. "You better be good!"

He was. Not as good as LaVonne or other women, but not bad, not at all. Nguyen's tongue and lips expertly laved and prodded her pussy, delving deeply inside, then writing secret alphabets around her clit.

Serena leaned forward and held her older cousin. They kissed. Serena moaned in Rosa's mouth, rocking faster on Nguyen's cock. Rosa's pussy was ecstatic under the determined tongue-lashing; her groans echoed dully through the room. The trip's tempo increased. Hands pinched nipples and stroked and slapped flesh.

Rosa came first. She pulled her face back from Serena's, and shook, and HOWLED! Her cousin soon followed suit, and judging from Nguyen's stiff convulsions, he was not far behind them. His tongue extended Rosa's ecstasy.

The women still hunched over Nguyen, embracing and kissing. They eventually rolled off the young man, Rosa to one side, Serena to the other. Serena pulled herself to him and kissed him passionately.

Rosa was oriented in the other direction, her hips beside his head, her face at his groin. She fingered his now-limp penis. Was it time for La Reina de las Chupadas to return? ¡Sí! She rolled closer and swallowed his cock. He did not remain limp long. He did become FAT and long!

Rosa increased her efforts and decreased his refractory time. The Queen knows how!! Not just sucking chrome from a trailer hitch, but technique, skill, know-how. Under the women's combined attention, he soon blew a load down Rosa's throat. Not a big load, but it would suffice. He was happy.

The three fell apart. Everyone wheezed. What fun!

"Damn, woman, you sure can use your mouth! Give me a few minutes to recover and you can have more, in another place. Ooh damn, I'd like to fuck you!"

"Uh uh, no way, not now," Rosa gasped. "I'm still a married woman. Nobody but my husband fucks me while I'm married. That's how I am."

Serena held his cock between thumb and forefinger. "Hey stud, forget about my cousin. You can fuck ME all you want, any time, any place, any reason!" She thumped him with her index finger. "I always have space in my parking lot, you got it?"

"Oh yeah, baby, I got it." He squeezed her thigh. "Got it right here."

The three snuggled and murmured for a while. Each had their own thoughts, thoughts they more-or-less kept to themselves. Nguyen was least successful. His delight at being sandwiched between two hot women was evident.

The women's thoughts are not for us to know. But we can surmise that Rosa was uncomfortable, nestled with her cousin and that cousin's flaky off-n-on boyfriend. Sure, he had animal magnetism. Sure, he knew how to use his tongue. But las ondas malos, his vibes just felt wrong.

The night was young. Nguyen fucked Serena again and ate Rosa to orgasm again and everybody was happy, happy. And sweaty. Nobody had strength to shower before they passed into unconsciousness.

TUESDAY

Rosa woke first. Where am I? Oh yeah, I'm in bed with Serena and... Nguyen? She looked over the bodies lying next to her. He was spooned into her cousin, his crotch against her butt. Rosa was off to the side. Just as well.

Rosa quietly rolled from the bed and staggered down the hallway for showers, golden and cleansing, both accomplished while standing in the guest shower stall. Ahh, that felt good!

She tiptoed back to retrieve and don her adornments. She quietly closed the door and stumbled to her own apartment. She brewed coffee to wash down her warmed pan dulce pastries. She thought, what to do today? Fuck, what IS today? Oh yes, it's Tuesday. Maybe it would be a good day. Maybe I will be divorced today. Maybe.

She had been skipping something, something called exercise. It was catching up with her. She felt stiff and logy. Yes, it was time to put some physical effort into maintaining herself. She groaned quietly as she dug out her running togs and shoes. Run or die, she thought.

Rosa found the class-A paved trail snaking past her apartment-condo block. She set a slow pace as she ran under the oaks and eucalyptus.

She had loped a couple easy miles when her phone sang La Macarena.

"Morning, Serena. ¿Que pasa? How you doing? A little sore, I bet!"

"Un poquito, a little, sure, and you probably are too. Where you at? At home, sleeping it off?"

"No, I'm out jogging. I've been too lazy lately. I've got to keep myself together, got to work at it. Can't get fat and sloppy."

"Can't have that, can we? I just wanted to check on you. I'm off to work now. You want to meet for lunch?"

"Sure, thanks. I'm only going to explore today. That's after I talk to my lawyer, see where the divorce is. What time for lunch, and where?"

"Be here around one o'clock, okay? Call me to let me know you're here."

A little more chatting, a lot more running, and Rosa was back home for another shower. No need to masturbate in the flow; she still tingled from the night before.

She checked her mirrored image. Hips: as wide as ever. Waist: admirably narrow. Thighs: not too thick. Belly: pretty flat. Boobs: ample and still pretty perky, considering. Butt: prominent, but not too bulbous. Face: no wrinkles to mention; maybe some smile lines. (But she always thought her nose was too long.) Hair: solid black, with flashing highlights.

Rosa was not fixated on appearing young, but she had no desire to age prematurely either. I am looking pretty good, she thought. She unconsciously crossed herself.

She dropped naked into her apartment's recliner chair, sat back cross-legged, and punched a Guadalajara number into her Android phone.

"¡Bueno, Rosa! You okay?" Cici's grating voice greeted her.

"Morning, Cici. I'm just fine here. How's my divorce going?"

"Pretty good, pretty good. I've got a judge lined up but he might not sign anything till tomorrow. You think you can maybe wait that long?"

Rosa laughed. "I'll try to hold out till then. It's hard. I'm turning down hot offers because I'm still married."

"What?! You're not getting any? For real? You're loyal to that forty-eight carat asshole?" Cici's rising growl was incredulous.

"No, not loyalty to Bobo. Loyalty to myself, to my vows and self-respect."

"Oh, those gringos you grew up with indoctrinated you pretty good, yes they did! Too bad you weren't born here -- you'd know better."

"You're probably right. But I am what I am, even if an Arizona run by puritans had a role in making me like this. I guess I'm just not cynical enough yet." Rosa paused. "But I can work on that -- after the papers go through! By the way, have you heard anything more about me down there? I've been searching online and haven't found anything new. "

"You're a gossip item, and you probably will be for a while. But it's all conspiracy speculations and chicken chatter, nothing serious. You'll fade when something else happens. And they'll still keep talking, like with that rich gringa who ran off with her masseur last year."

"Let me know if the talk spikes, okay?" Rosa idly scratched her bare knee.

"Sure thing, chica. And contact me if you find anything online. Maybe I can come up with ways to intercept or distract inquiries. Some of my friends are good at that."

"That would be great! I've got to go now. Hasta pronto, mija,, we'll talk soon."

"No later than tomorrow, for sure. Adios, girl."

Rosa stood and stretched. Time for a day, she thought. She poured herself into her biker leathers and rolled out to peruse her new vicinity.

She criss-crossed downtown Petaluma -- not much there. The little university village of Cotati had even less. She saw signs promoting its Accordion Festival, and shuddered. She rode out to Sebastopol, so overgrown with eco-porn and pseudo-Victoriana that it was almost a sweet joke. Everything was organic, even the big software publisher.

The town clock surprised Rosa. Had she blown the whole morning already? She spun down country lanes to reach the Serena's building on time. A bit of chat over a tasty sandwich and microbrew -- Serena promised to take Rosa out for some fun that night. Something to look forward to, hey?

Serena went back to work and Rosa hit the road again, this time to the county seat, Santa Rosa. She parked in the downtown mall and walked through the city center. Busloads of Japanese tourists snapped photos of the Snoopy statue in Railroad Square. A mariachi band played over in Courthouse Square. Pedestrians crowded the walkways, almost like a Mexican town.

Rosa's voluptuous figure encased in skin-tight demon-red bike leathers drew more than a few looks from men and women alike. She felt hot eyes track her hip-swaying walk. Yes indeed, not bad for an old broad, she thought; just another sexy mature woman. She spun her helmet around her wrist and watched reflections in shop windows.

She ducked into the county library and attained a card. Yes, library computers could be useful. A grinning cart-vendor across the street sold her a bar of Michoacan ice cream, the great walnut-raisin flavor. The sun poured down like sage honey as she strolled the compact centro.

Late-afternoon shadows crept into downtown. Rosa's phone buzzed. The text message was from Cici: "Got sign-off. Papers faxed to you. Sign receipt, fax it back, and you're free, as far as Mexico cares. Hearts!"

Rosa texted her thanks back, and considered. Damn, if I ride to San Rafael and back to Petaluma, I'll be in commute traffic forever. Fuck that. Mañana; it can wait till tomorrow. I can stand to be married for one more night, right?

She caught the last rays of the setting sun as she rolled southward under the eastern foothills. Almost free, almost free, she hummed to herself. She spun into Petaluma, dodged the now-usual suicidal squirrels, and parked her bike. Her phone sang La Macarena again.

"Hey there, prima. I just got home." She pushed open her front door. "You said you have plans for us tonight, right?"