The Divorcee's Proposition Ch. 03

1

Life for Rachel over the months took on a smoother, albeit blander shade of normality as the outside world turned to darker shades of winter. She needed it and it was that obvious that she wasn't the only one who could see it. So much confusion...

So thank God for best friends, even those like Donna who might sometimes unintentionally upset the apple cart in unexpected ways. Like coaxing the flower of a maturing woman's sexuality to blossom and bloom; like turning the sudden realisation that your daughter is gay into an opportunity to use sex and lovemaking as a way to help a mother to understand and to feel the way free human beings once did.

To rescue her from the premature and undeserved onset of frigidity, caused by the meddling and selfishness of a man she once trusted with her life!

But then Donna was admittedly Rachel's only best friend. The other bitch turned out to be another poser, faking everything from domestic bliss to her loyalty as a wife - and all the while fucking Rachel's husband on the sidelines.

Donna had in fact said before, without hesitance, that she would kill for Rachel. When she found out about Steve's cheating and then walking out, she was damn close to proving true to her word and Rachel didn't doubt it one bit.

But come this stage and in terms of Steve - the fallout he caused, the bitterness he left behind, and with Rachel trying to forget where she could not forgive - the most painful and bitter part was simply that he showed no responsibility or effort in regards to Emma.

The bastard was ashamed and so he should have been. But because his cockiness and his stubbornness wouldn't allow him to walk the walk of shame, head hung low like the whining dog he had become over the years, he carried himself with stern, cold reserve as he helped himself into their house by day, knowing well that Emma would not be there as he came to drop money on the table.

This was what it had come to. 'Avoiding your own daughter because you have the balls to fuck around but not the heart to admit that you're fucking with her life at the same time,' Rachel put it to him one day. He was hoping to avoid her too, and so chose not to speak. In her home, that just didn't cut it. 'Or maybe because all you can do is think with your cock you don't want to taint her with your dirty fucking hands?!'

'I don't deserve this,' Steve insisted and walked away, but Rachel followed, infuriated by his pig-headed ignorance.

'You're right,' she said with a wavering voice, not daring to come undone and to let him win - not that way. 'You don't deserve any of this. You don't deserve to make my entire life a lie. You don't deserve to abandon the life that you helped to make.'

'Oh get off my fucking back,' he yelled as he made a beeline for the front door, and his hands wouldn't do what his brain - or maybe his cock - told them to do. Ironically, a man couldn't count on his cock to think for him.

Rachel wouldn't get off his back. She would ride his back out that door, down the driveway, down the street and right out of town if she had to. 'And you don't deserve to troll your daughter like this, when she's giving up hope on you, wondering why you don't call or answer hers or even hold half a conversation with her.'

Fumbling with the door handle, he barely got out of the house before she was on top of him, and then he had the nerve - or the lack of - to swing that door shut on her. Well she ragged it open with such strength that he almost ran to the minivan.

'Who do you think you are; Santa Claus? You might as well be seeing as you've been emptying your sack all over town!'

By that point Rachel was livid and yelling at full lung capacity for all to hear. Amused faces watched intently. And when Rachel suggested, 'I'd change the locks but you'd probably still dump your load down the chimney,' there were howls of laughter.

The tyres even screeched when the minivan took off with a bloated and embarrassed looking Steve behind the wheel. At that point his face was burning with such a deep red that he could have been Santa. But Rachel wasn't done riding him...

'YOU WANTED OUT, YOU STAY OUT!' she screamed after him. 'YOU DON'T PUSH YOUR WAY AROUND ME EVER AGAIN LIKE YOU OWN ME OR THIS HOUSE. YOU HAVE A BANK ACCOUNT. YOU CAN WIRE EMMA'S CHILD SUPPORT FROM NOW ON SINCE THAT'S ALL IT'S COME DOWN TO!'

She had just taken on the world, the meek mouse now a proud lioness, fighting for her cub and herself. Rachel had also stunned the world into a dead standstill, but faces were smiling. Somebody else cheered. Somebody whistled and then clapped their hands together; a lone standing ovation that all at once meant nothing and everything.

Rachel had turned around to go back to the house when her eye caught Rose Copeland from next door. Her facial expression was the same passive, slightly haggard picture as always. But when she spoke...

'You're my new hero,' she said and then offered Rachel tea. Then the sudden tears became a torrent and so she gladly accepted. All the while thinking, 'oh fuck I am so wet right now...'

2

In a sense, once she could put the unpleasant details safely away at the back of her worried mind, Rachel came to be ever more thankful for having Donna at her side. And Donna could happily stand at arm's length too if it was necessary. Trust was not even a question between Rachel and Donna.

If what happened between them had occurred twenty years ago, the chances were they'd still be together now. And yet their friendship had lasted that long anyway and they were still together as friends, and yet with a bond as strong as family. Either way their love was unconditional, so the sex was never going to come between them. But it had changed Rachel, irreversibly!

She was discovering a sense of independence, not just of body, but of heart and mind, and she was winning hearts and minds, such as that of her next door neighbour Rose. They had never really bonded as neighbours. When the Copelands came along, Rachel and Steve were already in that cooling period, becoming estranged and pretending to be busy all the time so that they could ignore the underlying problem.

Rose and Jim, as she discovered, had a very simple life of work and relaxation, preparing for the inevitable onset of grandparenthood. Sex didn't come into the equation, but they were comfortable and clearly affectionate. Why couldn't Rachel and Steve have had that?

She guessed not everybody could. And as Rose put it, 'it takes two!'

"Chinese food, white wine and Netflix," became the order of one later Friday evening after all that bullshit began to smooth over and calm. Donna knew how to entice Rachel into a perfect girl's night in.

It was nice to be able to function at the bare minimum and to let convenience take care of the rest. Rachel forgot what laziness felt like and she welcomed it, and Donna, with open arms. After scrolling through a bunch of action movies and arthouse, both of which didn't interest either of them beyond the promise of a semi-naked Jason Statham, they settled on a Nicholas Sparks movie.

'Scott Eastwood, though,' Donna remarked with an appreciative nod as they cuddled up on the couch in front of the hanging flatscreen television on the chimney breast. Earlier Rachel had made a joke about a certain Santa Clause getting his sack roasted on an open fire.

'Drool,' she responded, drawn out for emphasis. 'You know, he looks kind of like-

'Clint Eastwood?'

'Yeahhhh!!'

'What are the odds,' Donna quipped with a hint of sarcasm and then, 'hey that lead girl is pretty cute but what do you think of that girl there?' Donna pointed to Melissa Benoist.

'Oh she's pretty,' Rachel gushed, then, 'more than pretty. Who is she?'

'Melissa Benoist. She makes me moist...'

Rachel giggled like a schoolgirl then, digging her nails into Donna's arm playfully. 'Does she now?'

'Yeah baby,' Donna giggled, and then leaned in to whisper, 'but you make me wet.'

In all seriousness, Rachel's face lost much of its smile, her lips relaxing and her eyes glazing over with intrigue. She opened her mouth to say one thing then her mind retreated to another, only for her to steel her nerves to stick with her first answer. 'I'd like to know more...'

3

Anybody who ever said they had never tasted themselves is either lying, or else possibly the combined issue of no arms and poor socialising skills!

Rachel had tasted herself countless times and wasn't offended. She had tasted herself on her own fingers the times a good fuck had to be administered by her own hand. So tasting Donna and discovering that she loved it meant for interesting times.

'I really want to learn to make you come with my tongue. Will you show me?' she asked. Donna's face was a picture of wide-eyed surprise as Rachel bit her lower lip sensually.

'Do you really mean that?' Donna blurted, suddenly losing control of her own better sensibilities. Rachel nodded without a doubt.

'I was just thinking that one good turn-on deserves another,' she explained and that broke them both down into hysterics. It was a surprise that either of them made it as far as Donna's bed after that.

'Oh honey, you have a tongue like a cat,' Donna gasped as she held her thighs wide apart. Rachel was hard at work, reliving old school days in a sense, where she had always been too serious to play. 'Purr,' she purred, playing up to the compliment before she understood. 'So rough it tickles. You don't know how sensitive you're making me,' Donna explained, gripping herself and then lashing out to clutch tight handfuls of duvet.

She lapped eagerly at the juices of Donna's excitement, commenting, 'you taste like me but somehow a little saltier and sweeter at the same time,' delving between her ample labia.

And it sounded like a cat's tongue scraping against the smooth of the palm of somebody's hand, grateful for her treat and lapping up all the flavour that remained, only with the wetness of Donna's sexual bliss.

'Okay now back up to my "Ladywood"...'

'Just a minute, babe,' Rachel suggested and then surprised her with a gob of saliva suddenly driven deep inside Donna's feverish pussy with that same darting tongue. Donna lost her nerve, and the build-up inside her suddenly overflowed. Rapid, deep, breathless convulsions overtook her and now she was riding Rachel's mouth uncontrollably.

'Where the fuck did that come from?' she begged. 'How the hell have you hidden that tongue from me? How big...'

Then Rachel was sucking her own saliva back out, mingled with Donna's come, and she drank it like her life depended on it. Donna came hard, again and again, before a smiling, wet-faced Rachel hugged her butt and her hips close and, with a wink, 'okay, back to your clit, and then you can show me how to do that "tribbing" thing!'

Two whole hours later, both women lay in each other's arms beneath a folded duvet. It was too hot to go all under and it was too chilly to lie on top, but just right pressed together; big spoon and little spoon. Rachel breathed the biggest sigh of contentment, to which Donna hummed appreciatively and smooched at her shoulder from behind.

And then, 'I love to sleep around...'

Rachel burst out laughing. 'Good to know, thanks,' taking her hand and caressing it.

'Okay so you know me well enough, and you're not offended, but honesty is my other vice, as you also know. I take it you're comfortable with all of this.' Rachel thought about it, not for long because she knew the answer already, and found no reason to doubt herself - other than the reason that she felt might not be as important to Donna as it was to her.

'I love you as you are and I love this as it is,' reaching around to clutch her exposed thigh and pert buttock. She turned around, careful not to lose too much of the body heat or intimacy between them and gazed confidently into Donna's eyes with an understanding look. 'What do you want to tell me?'

'I have these friends, ummm,' and Donna broke off blushing.

'And,' Rachel prompted.

'And we all know each other; very, very well.' Intrigue rose upon Rachel's brow. 'It's a small social circle of women who enjoy women occasionally or exclusively. I love you to death and I hope this never stops, but this has been my lifestyle for a long time now.'

'Okay,' Rachel nodded. 'I'm okay with it. I said I love you as you are and I still mean it.'

'I may have asked you before,' Donna whispered, closing in and rubbing her nose to Rachel's. 'But since you're really enjoying this, and you're opening up about it, would you ever consider spreading your wings a little more and looking into a few new experiences? You should see some of the girls. They're so beautiful. In fact I think you actually know one or two, since they do share our neighbourhood...'

'Oh my god; like who?' Rachel trailed off only for Donna to pull her back on course.

'I'm not saying or showing unless you say yes,' with a kiss to the back of her hand, and then, 'but it's completely up to how you feel about it. You're an amazing lover, by the way. They'd go crazy over you.'

'I'm kinda happy with this,' Rachel replied.

'And so am I, but would you be happier with more?' Donna asked. 'Let's say another woman catches your eye, she's undeniably attractive and she makes it known she wants to make love with you and the opportunity was free to you. Would you?'

'Well,' Rachel thought harder, 'if you were okay with it.'

'I'm not Steve, honey, I don't do double standards!'

'Well, if you put it like that, and we can still have this when it's needed,' Rachel said with butterflies in her stomach, 'I might be open to see for myself.' And Donna got excited, enough to force her own lips hard onto Rachel's, which gave in instantly for lack of preparation until she got the chance to breathe again. 'Just one thing - are there married women?'

'There are a few,' Donna nodded.

'Not for me there wouldn't be!' Rachel made it clear enough and then with an anxious smile, 'I have no idea what I'm getting myself into, do I?'

Donna smirked, kissed her hand, then softly her forehead cheek and lips. With all the certainty in the world, 'not the faintest,' before pulling her in for a lingering smooch. 'I love you, I really do!'

'Sometimes I wish,' Rachel thought, before giving in to the feel of Donna's silky curves pressed against her own, and then her hand made its way someplace warm and very wet.

4

Jennifer Kawaguchi lost her husband in a car crash at the age of twenty three. He was hurrying home after a long work day when he ran a red light and clipped an oncoming car, sending him hurtling at sixty miles per hour into a lamppost and killing him instantly. His car insurance paid off the damages done to the other car, but being that the company put him at risk with illegal working hours, that left Jennifer with a lot of time to adjust to life without the man she loved!

They had no children because they wanted to enjoy more of their youth first. Admittedly Jennifer, openly bisexual, was also afraid of childbirth. And being that she had a body to die for, neither of them was in a rush to ruin it. Together they had enjoyed that brief life of great sex, sometimes with another woman in the mix.

Four years after, Jennifer was in charge of her own business and doing well enough to afford everybody a good wage and a shorter working week, and the pain in her heart was older and wiser.

But her own promise to Dennis, and the principle by which she lived and loved, was that she loved only women and only when the desire called to her.

Jennifer's Asian heritage - she was half-Japanese with an American mother - blessed her with luxuriously thick and long hair, black and silky, and like Rachel she sported the smoothest pale skin but with a hint of olive. With feline features and a cute little mouth capable of the widest, cutest smile, she also sported her mother's DD cup breasts and the kind of hips not often seen on Asian women. She was a treasure.

Over lunch the next week, Jennifer met a few friends from her special social circle for a late lunch at a long-running place called the Soul Cafe. The food was always so good there that the back and forth between them was usually divided into two rounds; before and after.

And just like clockwork, Janet and Donna were there early, sipping sweet tea and deciding between the baked potato menu and the chicken before contemplating on just sharing both.

Jennifer couldn't help but laugh as she greeted the two beauties, whom she sometimes jokingly referred to as her cougar mamas, and came bearing friendly kisses for both.

All of the women that would soon sit around this very table, by a window overlooking a diversely cultured metropolitan side street, had themselves with her at several points in their friendship, and some of them had shared her between them simultaneously. And now Donna was going to proposition her with a potential new member.

And just like clockwork, the other two, Mandy and Angie - always last to show up - budged Jennifer over to the window so they could all cram into the booth.

'Fashionably late as always, you lousy bimbos,' Donna catcalled.

'The early bird may catch the worm, sweetheart,' Angie called back with a wink, 'but the second mouse gets the cheese.' And with that she kissed Mandy on her flush cheek, to which Donna quipped, 'oh, okay, it looks like somebody's already eaten.'

Over dinner Donna briefed the ladies on a "heart-warming-MILF-next-door-type divorcee" to get the ball rolling. It wasn't the most flattering way to introduce Rachel, but since Janet - the blue-eyed, redheaded puma sat next to her - already knew her since they lived on the same block and went to the same barbecues and "old folks'" house parties, she wanted to throw the curveball and pitch her at the same time.

Mission accomplished!

Donna was pitching her directly to Jennifer who she thought was the perfect woman to bring her into the fold. And not simply because - quite frankly - she couldn't be classed as married but because she knew that Rachel was such a big-hearted woman for such a petite stature. Jennifer needed warm, kind and caring.

Someone that had yet to be seduced by the dark side!

Sweet, innocent, intimate and older were four words that got Jennifer wet. And when Jennifer got wet, Jennifer got kinky. And Jennifer had the most subtle way of seducing such women into depravity; in a way that often left them wondering "what the fuck just happened to me?"

And when Donna came out and told them who she was talking about, Janet's eyes lit up, and maybe with more than sheer surprise. Her mouth dropped open in more than shock. Her eyes focused on Donna's lips as she spoke across to Jennifer.

'She's new to all of it, but she's open-minded and, oh my fucking god, she's a fast learner.' And Janet was beginning to tingle, even before Donna came out and said, 'that fucking tongue had me hanging by a thread, I lost control of my body-

'ME NEXT!!'

Janet covered her mouth so suddenly with her hand that the silence around the cafe rode in on the echo of a clap.

'Dammit Janet,' Donna sighed, handing her phone to Jennifer to show her a photograph. It was a selfie taken by Donna, hugging Rachel to her side at a summer pool party. Her hair was wet and dripping, shoulders bare and beaded with chlorinated water. Even with no makeup she was so beautiful, even with the tiredness evident by the slight dark circles under her eyes; which could have melted a polar icecap.

'I like her,' Jennifer said approvingly.

'She is lovely. Just lovely,' Janet gushed and then defensively laughing, 'I'm still in shock.'

'You should go out for dinner with her. I'll take a photo and ask her if she's interested. Are you interested?'

'Oh yeah,' Jennifer nodded. 'I have nothing and nobody this weekend.'