The Curse of the Scots Ch. 02

Part Two:

(There's a whore, an ex-wife, and a farmer each with their own demons.)

I was up early the next morning. I slipped into the master bedroom and saw Caprice was still asleep; probably the Nyquil. I walked over and tapped her shoulder, "Hey sleepy head."

She rolled over and gave me a lazy look, "Oh, you."

I smiled as I unfastened the locks that held her in bed, "You've a busy day coming up; so let's get up and at it."

She sat up and tried to stretch; the lacerations from Vince's beating were still unpleasant, actually they looked worse since they'd started to heal. She peered up at me; she was pretty sure I wouldn't hit her, but I could tell she still had some serious lingering doubt, "What are we doing today?" She placed a little extra emphasis on the word we.

I gave her good big grin, "I know somebody who doesn't have any clothes so I'm going shopping. You're going to get your hair done. Also I have a friend who'll be staying with you most of the day."

"You mean a guard," she retorted acerbically.

"I can't leave you alone now can I, and I can't leave you tied up all day either."

"I get to go out?"

"You get the run of the house."

She snickered, "Wow!"

Just then there was a knock on the door. I looked up, "That's her now," I went to the front door and let a youngish black woman in. I walked her over to Caprice, "Caprice this Aurora, Aurora this is Caprice."

Caprice smiled and held out her hand, "Hi." Caprice must have picked up on the introduction; by introducing her to Aurora she knew she'd been given second status, nobody told her that; but I thought I could tell she'd known it.

Aurora took her hand and looked around, "Breakfast?"

I already had my coat on, "Not for me."

Caprice nodded, "Maybe a piece of toast."

Aurora was already at the toaster.

I hit the front door and was gone.

+++++++++

I was just this whore, and a captive in this crazy man's house.

I decided to spend the morning lying around. What else could I do? I waited till 10:00 a.m. and decided to take another bath. I could soak some more, and then apply some more Neosporin. Aurora admonished me not to get my hair wet. When I asked her why not she said someone would be by to dye my hair later and it was always better to dye dirty hair. I'd had never heard that before, but didn't argue. I was kind of surprised. After I took a bath and dried off Aurora helped me with the Neosporin.

Aurora watched and commented on my wounds, "You've got a lot of little cuts there. What happened?"

I gave Aurora what I hoped was a thoughtful glance. I surmised what her being black she probably didn't know much and had probably never been anywhere, "I guess Cayden told you I was a whore when he found me."

Aurora had been told, she'd been warned that women like this could be tricky, but this was her first real American whore, she replied, "Somebody gave you a thorough beating. I've been to Holland. In some places they display the whores there through windows. I don't think anyone beats those whores."

I thought the scamps been to Europe! I saw an opening, "Cayden saved my life. They'd wrapped my head in a plastic bag and were smothering me when Cayden stopped them." There I thought, Cayden the hero, we have something in common.

Aurora took the whore's hands in hers, "It was a good thing Cayden was there. He's a good man. I like him;" after a pause she added, "most people around here like Cayden, but he's so backward he doesn't even know it." She stopped there; what was it, T.M.I.?

I asked, "Why not?"

"Look I want to change the bed and Cayden's got some wash I want to do."

I sensed there was something more than friendship between Aurora and the Farmer, "You sleep with him don't you."

Aurora had been walking toward the bedroom but stopped, she turned back to the whore, "Look you're treading mighty close to some pretty deep water. You ever see a rip tide?"

I shook my head no.

"You could be pulled out and drown in a few seconds. There are some places you simply ought to not go."

I had my answer. He was either sleeping with her, or he could any time he wanted. This Cayden might be younger than he looked, maybe closer to thirty than forty. Aurora looked to be maybe twenty-five maybe a little less, "How old is Cayden?"

"Oh Cayden, he's thirty," Aurora stood still and looked at me, "and I'm twenty-three and just married, but if Cayden wanted me he could have me. He knows it, and my husband knows it."

"What would your husband do if..."

"He'd kill him. Then he'd kill me. It would break his heart, but he'd have to."

"You all think a lot of him."

"I love him. My husband and everyone in my family have a lot of respect for him. Honestly I think my husband and my father would be his friends if he'd let them."

"What you being black?"

"Hardly, Cayden's not like that, not like, well he's not ophay."

"Ophay?"

"African word I think. Most people don't use it anymore, and white people don't know what it means."

I was intrigued, "What does it mean?"

Aurora stepped forward a little, "Well there's white people and being white. Cayden's a white man, but he doesn't act white. You know white people who are outwardly nice and friendly to people of African descent, but who lie, cheat, or rob us every chance they get."

I thought about what Aurora had just said; she wasn't far from the truth.

Aurora headed back toward the bedroom, "I'll remake the bed and get some wash done. Maybe later you can tell me what it's like to be a whore."

+++++++++++

Around mid-day the two of us sat down for lunch. Aurora had fixed tuna fish with slices of tomato and lettuce.

I decided to plumb the depths of Aurora's knowledge of my jailer, "Have you known Cayden very long?"

"All my life," was Aurora's reply.

"What's he like; I mean what kind of man is he?"

Aurora replied, "He's a good man, a hard worker, trustworthy. He's someone a person can count on. He helped pay my way through college."

"He helped you through college?"

Aurora started to talk, "I know who you are. Believe me you don't know the man, if you did you'd be happier than a pig in mud."

"What do you know about me?"

"I know Cayden bought you in a card game. You'll more than likely try to either trick me or try to talk me into letting you get away. Trust me; that won't happen. Cayden's family; he's been part of my family since he was born, and you know how I feel about him personally."

"Do tell."

Aurora went ahead and told me what she knew about Cayden's birth, the failed abortion, his mother's death, his upbringing, how he was raised alone by five old people, and how he'd been a big help to her family all his life. She explained it had been reciprocal; Cayden kept her family employed and at good pay, and since he had no kids he'd helped pay the costs of tuition for her and her brother. In return they'd watched out for his maiden aunts while he was gone, and they'd kept an eye out for his ex-wife.

I asked Aurora, "You don't talk like a black person."

Aurora grinned, "I can if you want me to."

"You can turn it on and off."

"Some can't but most of us can. We're not stupid."

"Tell me, you said, or somebody said, Cayden had a wife," actually nobody had said anything; I was just stabbing in the dark.

Once Caprice asked about Cayden's former wife Aurora shut up, "He was married once, but that's none of my business. I keep out of it, and if you're smart you will too."

Everything Aurora said confirmed my original opinion of the man; just another do-gooder, probably another phony Christian all ready with the charity as long as there was something in it for him, and an overall easy target, a sheep waiting to be sheared. I didn't believe for a second he was any better than any other white person in his thoughts about the colored. Yeah I figured him out, pretty handsome now, but in a few years he'd get that middle aged spread, lose some hair, get that bald circle right in the middle, get a lot of dandruff, and a few years after that he'd be a limp dick sucking on Viagra and looking for someone like me to lie to him and tell him what a man he was. Sure, he'd be just another dick waiting to be cut off.

++++++++++

How Cayden had a very busy day.

I had a very busy day. First I stopped at the beauty parlor and reminded Cora about my request for someone to stop in and do the hair thing. Then I stopped in at my friend who was the local doctor. His name was Silas Deane, and he agreed to stop off at my place and look Caprice's injuries over, but mostly to check her private parts to see how bad they were. I slipped over to my dentist, and set up Caprice's first appointment. I drove to Georgetown, Delaware, had a long talk with a tattooist, and bought a laser tattoo replacement kit.

Last I drove down to the beach to the Gold Coast Mall to check out a few of the more fashionable clothes boutiques. I purchased some shoes, a couple dresses, skirts, blouses, nylons, panties, bras, jumpers, slack outfits, skirt and jacket outfits, pajamas, a lightweight green raincoat, and lingerie of all types. I even threw in a pair of light brown jeans and a couple Oxford button downs. I didn't really shop; I pointed to what I liked and gave the salesperson the sizes. I bought nice things, but I didn't overdo it. She needed clothes, might as well get better than cheap, but she was still a whore, she'd probably try to rob me and run. I chuckled at that, 'she'd rob me, but at least when she split she'd be reasonably well dressed.'

While I shopped I thought about Emily; my perfect little girl, the girl I couldn't reach. Every now and then I wondered who all this shit was really for; was this whore becoming my fantasy child, like my substitute daughter, maybe a replacement for my ex-wife, another girl I couldn't have. Was I compensating for something I should have done a long time ago?

I only gave it passing reference; maybe I was the stupid farmer Caprice thought I was. I hoped Angie's mother got my ex-wife to agree to buy some nicer clothes instead of the crap she ordinarily wore. I was tired of seeing her and my daughter dressed in Walmart clearance stuff. I let it go.

++++++++++

Cayden shows the whore what he bought.

Caprice looked askance at the bags of clothes I brought in the house. To her I guess she figured I was a total asshole; a couple simple outfits would have been more than enough. I could almost read her mind. I bet she concluded my decision to buy more than was required was just that much more proof I was delusional. She wasn't some innocent Cinderella waiting for a carriage ride to the ball; she was too far gone for that fantasy. She knew what she was; a whore, just another dirty whore, a worthless piece of shit that was beneath contempt. I bet that was what she thought. I figured she was probably right.

She looked at me and chuckled, "You bought all this shit for me?"

"Yeah, take the stuff back in the bedroom, hang it up in the closet or put it away in the bureau. Look it over. Find something you like and put it on."

++++++++++

While Caprice went back to the bedroom I went upstairs. There were two bedrooms upstairs, but I'd turned one into a kind of study. I had an old fashioned computer tower, a printer, and several file cabinets filled with farm records. I felt like I was pretty adept at the computer stuff. I'd added memory cards, kept ahead on the operating systems, was careful what programs to load, had gotten away from the countless numbers of confusing and easily tangled wires, and had everything backed up on line as well as on memory sticks. I guess I was still a little backward about some things; I still kept hard copies of everything.

I also kept spare sets of keys to my two pick-ups, the Lexus, and for all the pieces of farm machinery. I kept all my financial records stored in a separate safe that was bolted to the floor in the closet.

I opened the safe, rummaged around a little till I found the documents I needed. Easter Sunday was only a few days away. Emily had taken her first riding lessons; these were lessons I'd paid for but had screened the costs through Angie's mom. I bet Angie wondered sometimes where her mom got the money for the things she managed to buy.

The papers I found included the bill of sale for a small brown pony and receipts in advance for the costs of care and maintenance of the animal for the next six months at Mr. Ellis's farm. I used the printer scanner and made hard copies of everything then I slid this paperwork in a large white envelope. I'd arranged with a farmer down in one of the Virginia counties to bring the pony up and leave it tied to the front yard fence at Angie's mom's while Angie, her mom and Emily were at church Easter Sunday. I knew I wouldn't be there to see the look on Emily's face so I had persuaded Del to hide behind a tree and take pictures of Emily and Angie when they saw the pony. I had a good enough imagination to know the little girl would be thrilled, but I still wanted some pictures I could look at later.

I have a special place to store pictures like these. Uncle Mitchel had owned an old sea chest. I keep it in my upstairs study/office. All the records and pictures I have that pertain to Emily and Angie since I'd gotten back from the service are locked in there. There are two keys; one I keep on my key chain and the other is safely hanging from a nail above the bedroom lentil.

Sometimes late at night or after something special has happened I open the old chest and browse through the pictures and documents. I know it's stupid, but it makes me feel close to my daughter, and yes I have to admit it makes me feel better about Angie. I know she hates me, but I've never really stopped caring for her. Sure she's humiliated me a hundred different ways, but I've had it coming. I know we'll never get back together, but there was a time, a short time I admit, when things were pretty good. I guess those are about the only really happy memories I have of anything. That sure says something about what a loser I am.

I remember there were nights when we were first married. She's such a tiny woman. Almost flat chested, thin hips, delicate. She has small breasts, but her aureole are beautiful, dark brown, and her nipples stick out at the least provocation. I used to like to nibble on those tiny little tits.

Her vagina was small, tight, but she never complained when I entered her. I tried to be gentle, but I knew it hurt. She would wrap her legs around my waist. God was she magnificent in bed.

At first she never hesitated to go down on me. She'd kneel in front of me and start with her lips, just gentle kisses, then she'd wrap her mouth around me. I was too big for her to take all the way, but she tried. Later, since I sometimes had to work real late, it's a farmer's lot; she suspected I was cheating on her. I know I was meaner than shit before we got married, but afterward I tried to do better. I never did cheat, but she got suspicious, and then things started to go south.

Honestly, as I think back, I'd had better, but I never married her for the sex. She was such a little firecracker; always happy, always eager to please, at least at first. I don't know exactly what went wrong, but when it did it really did. Sure I'd been bad news for a long time, I'd been mean, but I'd tried to change. It was like the more I changed, the more she did too.

I planned on taking this paperwork over the Angie's mom's this afternoon. I had a pretty good idea I wouldn't see Angie or Emily because this was one of the days my little girl had dance lessons. The lessons are another thing I've been able to get for Emily without Angie knowing where the money came from.

++++++++++

I get a better look at the whore.

Caprice stepped out from the bedroom, she asked, "How do I look?"

I gasped. The whore I'd brought home the other morning had undergone an almost complete metamorphosis. There were still traces of the old black eye and there were thin red marks on her arms and the calves of her legs, but the skirt and blouse she wore transformed her from beleaguered whore to a remarkably beautiful woman. "Yeah', I thought, 'a nice transformation, but she's no Liza Doolittle'.

The blouse was a pale green. I'd chosen it because I thought it might match the color of her eyes. I was right; they matched perfectly. The blouse had three quarter length sleeves. It buttoned up the front to a sharp angular business woman's collar. She left the top buttons undone, and her very pretty breasts insistently pressed against the soft fabric exposing just enough cleavage to cause me to feel self-consciously aware that I was still a man.

The skirt was a deep dark green; a woolen pleated plaid thing actually. It was a mini, the hem rested just above her knees. The way the skirt swept outward from her tiny waist only increased my sexual anxiety.

The hairdresser I'd hired had left just before I'd arrived. Her hair had been re-dyed to what I hoped was her natural color; a light brown with reddish highlights. She'd cut it short, but Caprice had found enough to tie it off in a very pretty ponytail.

I could see by the expression on her face she knew how terrific she looked. She smiled, she laughed giddily, then she stood on her toes and pirouetted several times. Each pirouette caused the hem of her skirt to flutter outward revealing a pair of dark green very frilly panties.

I was stunned, "Caprice you're beautiful."

Then to my surprise she ran up to me, wrapped her arms around my neck, and kissed me softly on my cheek, "You like," she asked?

Her arms around my neck caused her breasts to push against me, further arousing the slumbering giant between my legs, "Very much," was my awkward reply. Then I said a very stupid thing, "I have to take some papers over to an acquaintance. Would you like to ride along?"

The whore stood on tiptoes making her just slightly taller than me. She kissed me again and replied, "I'd love it."

Just like that I'd let my dick tell my brain what I was supposed to do. I hadn't behaved this stupidly since before I left for the army. Yeah Caprice was a whore, and a good one; she knew just what buttons to push.

++++++++++

Caprice and I got in my newer pick-up, the GM HD diesel, and drove over to Angie's mom's, as expected Angie had found a ride and taken little Emily to her dance classes. I left Caprice in the truck while I went to the door to talk. I figured there wasn't much chance of her running. I kept the keys, and she still didn't know where she was. I knocked on the door and I heard grandma inside as she came and opened the door.

Grandma looked tired but she had a wary smile on her face, "Afternoon Cayden. I got Angie, Emily, and me outfits for Easter," she handed me the receipts.

She hadn't wasted any time, I said, "That's great. Here's the information, all in your name about the pony and where's he'll be boarded after Sunday. You see I've got him at Mr. Ellis's. The pony's name is Johnny. He's a good animal, gentle, and affectionate. He likes carrots." I hesitated just a second and asked, "Have you had any trouble with Angie about where the moneys coming from?"

Grandma replied, "No, she thinks it's coming from somewhere else. You and I both know if she thought it was from you she'd turn it down."

"She still hates me that much? I understand that, but she and I have a child. Even if Angie refuses to admit it I know I'm Emily's daddy, and everybody else knows it too. I know we'll probably never get back together. That used to gnaw at me, still does sometimes. I would like to have the opportunity to make things up to Angie. I could be the husband she deserves. I guess I shouldn't have runaway and joined the army, but at the time knew I wasn't man enough to handle her, myself, and a farm. Hell, back then I was her cuck and everybody's target for jokes. I tell you it's fucked up. Now that I'm ready and able she won't."