Ugly Ugliest Things

"Fetal Alcoholic Syndrome," Julie sniffled.

After a moment, she smiled, a proud mother's smile.

"But dance? O.M.G! She's six years old, doesn't know her ABCs, but you put on some music and she's a dancing machine!" Julie bragged.

Sage raised her hand.

"Yes, Sage?" Julie asked.

"Um, I'm not an alcoholic; why am I here?" Sage asked. "I mean, I came in because of heroin."

"And thinking of alcohol as different has led a lot of addicts back out there," Dr. Amber Istre stated. "I'm a coke head myself, but I started off with vodka, then a little weed, then a little weed and some pills, then a little vodka, a little weed, and a LOT of cocaine. Sound familiar?"

Sage remembered, she had loved vodka. According to Robin, she had loved it a little too much. She nodded somberly as Julie continued to share her story with the group.

After Julie's story, those that had enjoyed, or had endured visitors went into a separate room with Dr. Whitmore. Those that had not had visitors stayed in the first room.

The nine patients went around the room and shared how it had gone with their family, how they felt afterward.

"Sage?" Dr. Whitmore asked.

"I uh, well, I mean, when Ms. Julie called my name, I was like 'who? Me?'" Sage admitted. "Then I get in there and there's this gorgeous woman sitting there and I'm still like 'who? Me?' And it turns out she's my old boyfriend's wife and she's so happy to see me and I'm still wondering who the hell she is and why she's there to see me."

Chapter 3

Angela Sistrone knew of America, dreamed of the magical fabled America that was only two days journey away. She dreamed of meeting possibly a beautiful blonde woman, of making love with the beautiful blonde woman. In American movies the beautiful American women were blonde.

The eighteen year old girl saved her money. She was known as a very hard worker, she was known not to rely on her beauty, but on her back. There many that said that Angela Sistrone worked as hard as two men.

Her father, Miguel Sistrone quite often beat his daughter, beat her until she gave him her money so that he could buy himself much to drink. Then drunk on the cheap wine, he would force her legs apart and thrust himself into her dry pussy.

Pedro Garcia could get Angela Sistrone across the border, into Texas. For ten thousand pesos, he could get the beautiful girl, with the quite large breasts into Texas, and have papers for her, a green card, and an identification card with an alias.

But Miguel found her money, found where she had hidden it.

She picked up the heavy bowl, the bowl that she mixed the corn meal in and basked the drunkard's head in. Angela kept smashing the bowl down until her father quit crying, quit struggling.

Her mother's gold chain and crucifix was the only thing she kept. Her father's heavy gold wedding band and the nine thousand eight hundred pesos notes she'd squirreled away, she gave to Pedro.

The journey was a hot and dusty one. There were nearly forty people crammed into the back of the hot, airless truck.

From time to time, they would stop and they would be let out for air, given a few swallows of tepid water, given the opportunity to relieve themselves.

Then, it was a well-lighted night, the moon hung low, lighting the desolate landscape.

"Just over those rocks," Pedro said, pointing. "Just over those rocks is Texas."

Then he grabbed Angela's large breast in his wizened hand.

"You did not have all ten thousand," he smirked.

"But I gave you my husband's wedding ring," Angela claimed.

"But maybe if you..." Pedro hinted, unzipping his filthy trousers.

"Give me my papers first," Angela demanded.

He got her papers from the truck and showed her that she was now Carmen Garcia. She sighed and lifted the hem of her dress, showing him her slim, almost boyish hips and the thatch of black curls. His eyes gleamed when she hoisted her dress up and off, exposing her very large breasts and dark nipples.

She lay down on the dusty ground and spread her legs. Pedro lay down on top of her, hard cock seeking her dry cleft.

Angela pulled Pedro's large knife from the sheath he wore on his hip and sliced him from scrotum to throat. She then spat in his startled face.

"Now I shall leave you out here to die like the dog you are," she snarled.

His wallet held two hundred and fourteen American dollars. Angela pulled her dress on over her blood soaked body and walked across the outcrop of rocks into freedom.

In the Greyhound bus station, she cleaned herself of Pedro's blood, used the cheap paper towels to dry herself, then pulled her dress back on. Then she made sure to clean that sink of any traces of blood.

Angela Sistrone took a Greyhound bus to Great Oak, Texas. A neighbor had told her of her cousin that owned the Hacienda Texas Motel in Great Oak, Texas. The eighteen year old beauty was hired on as a maid.

"Carmen Garcia, eh?" the man chuckled knowingly. "What is your real name, senorita?"

"Carmen Garcia," she lied, black eyes unreadable. "Just as it says on my papers."

"And your English is very good," he complimented.

"I watch the American movies," she admitted.

A month into her employment, a guest complained of being robbed. He claimed he'd had three hundred dollars in his wallet, which he'd left on the motel room's dresser.

(Robert Robertson, the guest had not lost three hundred dollars. Bobby was an alcoholic that drifted from motel to motel, crisscrossing the states of Texas, Arizona and New Mexico, checking into cheaper motels, drinking until his Social Security Direct Deposit ran out, then claiming that he'd been robbed by the hotel's maids. Sometimes the motel gave Bobby the money, sometimes they fired the employee, but always, his room was free of charge.)

"I did not steal any money; I haven't even been on that floor yet," Carmen calmly told Ethan Nunez, the motel owner.

"Then she did it yesterday," Bobby claimed.

"No, yesterday I was off," Carmen calmly said. "I had the sickness in the morning; I came in late."

"Then it was the other one," Bobby said, actually beginning to feel a little queasy.

"I was the one that cleaned your room yesterday," Ethan said.

Officers Samantha 'Sam' Zwilliger and Herman Ostring came out, even though Bobby was now offering to just drop the whole matter and he would be on his way.

"Sure, you can be on your way; just settle up your bill," Ethan said, certain that the man could not pay for his room.

Sam looked at the short Latin woman with the large dark eyes and felt her pussy get wet. The young woman's impressive chest didn't hurt either. But what really got Sam's heart thudding in her chest was the young woman's obvious interest, attraction to her.

She brushed her long blonde hair back and offered Carmen Garcia one of her cards. She flashed Herman a scowl as her partner smirked at her.

Carmen did not waste any time; she called the blonde beauty as soon as her shift at the Hacienda Texas was over. They met at Geno's; Carmen wanted pizza.

That first date led to a second date, then a third. Their fourth date, Carmen asked Sam to pick her up at the Hacienda Texas, Room 423. When Sam knocked on Room 423, Carmen answered the door, nude.

After they made love, Carmen confessed that this had been her first time with a woman. She also confessed that she was pregnant. She did not confess to Sam that the baby in her still quite flat belly was that of her father.

Nor did she confess that her name was really Angela Sistrone, that Miguel Sistrone, the father of her baby was dead. And she didn't disclose that Pedro Garcia, the coyote that helped her get across the Mexican-American border was also dead.

A month after they'd become lovers, Sam's requested transfer to the Oakleaf County Police Department was approved. She'd requested the transfer months earlier; tired of the micro-aggressions from the predominantly male, predominantly homophobic police department of Great Oak, Texas.

"But Oakleaf's only thirty minutes away," Sam said.

"No, thirty minutes without you is too long," Carmen smiled, kissing her blonde lover. "We will move to Oakleaf. I am a maid; I can get a job anywhere."

She did get a job at the Oakleaf Hilton Gardens hotel. She hid her pregnancy from the management by wearing bulky clothing.

One day, a guest casually draped her fur coat across the bed. Carmen touched the coat and actually sighed at the luxurious feeling under her fingertips.

"Nice, isn't it?" the old woman smiled.

"What type of fur is this?" Carmen breathlessly asked.

"It's pure Russian sable," the woman said.

"Sable," Carmen repeated.

Sable Samantha Garcia grew up with two mothers. As far as the child was concerned, this was normal. It wasn't until she was in the second grade that she found out that this was not normal. Sable also found out that some people were quite hostile toward her mothers' lifestyle.

When Sable was seventeen, just about to graduate from Lloyd M. Bensen High School, Sam and her partner were called out to a trailer park, a domestic incident. Both police officers were on high alert; domestic situations could often become dangerous.

The man, hopped up on low grade meth, killed both police officers, his estranged wife, then himself.

Carmen Garcia accepted an invitation from Carlos Sistrone, her cousin, to come work at the Acadiana Motel, in Kimble Louisiana. She packed a few keepsakes of her lover and partner Samantha, and moved herself and her daughter to the small town.

Carlos Sistrone was notoriously cheap and did not pay his staff very much money. The other maid and Carmen decided they would strike out on their own and formed Buenos Noches Cleaning Services.

"We clean at night, when your people are at home," Carmen told their potential clients. "We come in, we clean, you come into tomorrow to nice, clean office, smell nice."

Their prices were also very reasonable, but not so cheap that it would not be worth their while to do the services.

Sable joined her mother and Theresa Rodriguez and Nicolette Montoya. She'd been a lackluster student in school and had no desire to go on to college. So, it only made sense that she would join her mother and the other women as a cleaner. Samantha and Carmen had instilled in Sable the knowledge that happiness was to be found in a good job well done.

Robin Boudreaux saw that relying on his sales staff to clean up after a long day's work was not practical. But having a less than spotless showroom floor and windows clouded over by fingerprints and other smudges was also an impracticality.

So, when Buenos Noches Cleaners approached him, Robin Boudreaux did not even ask the price. He showed Carmen and Nicolette the areas he would want cleaned, pointed out that he would want the large glass windows, inside and out cleaned at least once a week, then pointed across the street at Prentiss Chevrolet.

"And that building too," he said. "When can y'all start?"

Chapter 4

The heat was broiling all day long and the air conditioning had given one last gasp and then died. Carmen none too gently shoved Julia Fullilove's blonde head away from her crotch. The car salesperson was hurt by the abrupt gesture.

"Fine, fuck, need get to work anyway," the young woman said.

"Julia, Julia, just too hot all that, huh?" Carmen groggily said.

"No, no, I get it," the young woman huffed as she slithered into her jeans.

Carmen could hear Sable stirring; the heat was heavy, sweltering inside the small apartment.

"Hey there," Carmen heard Julia flirtatiously greet the now eighteen year old Sable.

"Hey," Sable mumbled.

A moment later, a toilet flushed.

"Momma, air's out again," Sable complained.

The landlord promised to 'get right on it' when Carmen called to complain. Carmen documented the time and date of the complaint; the landlord's idea of 'right on it' was vastly different than her own.

They ate lunch at four o'clock and Carmen again called the landlord. By now the inside of the apartment was hovering at eighty four degrees.

The man had still not shown up by the time mother and daughter left for the first clients of their night. Both mother and daughter, who could pass as older sister, younger sister both dressed in tank tops and Daisy Duke Shorts, filthy tennis shoes, and scarves around their long black hair.

Robin Boudreaux was inside of his office at Boudreaux Ford, a small banker's lamp the only illumination, other than his computer monitor. The young man was going over the months-end figures. They'd spent nearly two thousand dollars on advertising, on KULD radio station, broadcasting out of the University of Louisiana at DeGarde, and Performance 12 independent television station in DeGarde, and another two thousand on Eagle 26 independent television station out of Elgee, Louisiana, as well as with KSTA, the radio station broadcasting out of St. Ann Parish.

But as far as he could tell, that four thousand dollars had earned him very little. But of course, both radio stations were asking him for his business and both television stations were pressuring him to sign up for their sweeps week.

A movement caught Robin's eye and he looked up from his computer monitor.

A young Latin girl was busily scrubbing the baseboards right outside of his office.

The position was intimate enough, kneeling on the carpeted floor, face and shoulders down low as she vigorously rubbed.

But the shorts she wore were very short indeed, were very snug, and displayed her nicely rounded, light brown buttocks completely. The snub material also displayed her prominent camel tow. And the thin wisp of cloth that ran up the crack of her ass showed that she wore no panties underneath the shorts. Some tendrils of her black pubic hair peeked out as she worked.

She swiveled to the side and grabbed her squirt bottle of cleaning solution to squirt the next section of baseboard and Robin saw that she wore a snug tank top. She did wear a bra, the straps were visible. The bra did little to contain her magnificent breasts.

Her face was light brown, and from the side view, Robin could see that she was quite beautiful. Her hair was long, dragging the floor alongside her as she worked.

She was beautiful, almost as beautiful as Sage Amy Smith. The girl squirted the cleaning solution on the wood and resumed her vigorous scrubbing and Robin continued to look at, admire her buttocks.

Robin wondered where Sage was. She had tried calling him, had left numerous messages on his phone. But Robin had downloaded an app that deleted her messages as soon as she ended the call.

But he still wondered where she was, if she was okay. Her infidelity had hurt, had hurt tremendously; Robin had seriously considered asking the beautiful strawberry blonde to marry him.

The cleaning girl, woman, Robin had no idea how old she was, disappeared from sight. Robin actually leaned over to peer out the doorway and caught just a glimpse of her short, muscled left leg.

"Momma, we do the offices too?" Sable called out in Spanish.

"Si," Carmen called back.

A moment later, Robin watched as the attractive girl crawled past his door, still scrubbing the baseboards of the hallway.

Then she was in his doorway again, this time on her feet. He squinted his eyes when she found his light switch.

Then she screamed at seeing him behind his desk.

"God, don't do that, huh?" Robin complained.

Carmen was immediately at her daughter's side, squirt bottle of cleaning solution in hand, ready to squirt the eyes of any dangerous criminal.

"Oh! Ola Senor Boudreaux," Carmen said.

"Ola, Mrs. Garcia," Robin agreed.

"Is my daughter, Sable Garcia," Carmen introduced the two.

"Ola," Robin said again.

"Ola," Sable said quietly.

The man was quite handsome, with his thick curly brown hair, warm brown eyes, and soft smile. His suit was an expensive looking suit and she liked the bright red tie he wore. After the two stared at each other for a moment, Sable mumbled something then got to work scrubbing the baseboards of his office.

After a long moment, she realized, her shorts were riding quite high, exposing quite a bit of her buttocks to this man. She had not worn panties and was sure this man could see her pubic hair. And as she thought of this man, this handsome man looking at her backside, leering at her flesh, she knew the faded denim crotch was surely getting damp. The faded material would darken as her pussy grew wet with her excitement.

The taut material of her denim shorts rasped against her pussy lips, dug into her flesh as she worked.

She chanced a glance over her shoulder as she moved around the comfortable looking leather couch in his office. Sure enough, the man was staring at her rump, staring at her wet crotch.

She thoroughly scrubbed the baseboards in his office, then got to her feet, glanced in his wastebasket, and nodded. Without a word, she whirled around and walked out of his office, her long curtain of black hair now hiding her buttocks from view.

But a moment later, she returned with a plastic garbage bag. Again, wordlessly, Sable took the old liner out of his wastebasket and put a new liner in.

"Light on or off?" she quietly asked, hand on the button.

"Off; only reason I left it on was to see you," Robin brazenly admitted.

Sable flashed him a brilliant smile, then extinguished the light.

Carmen was already running the vacuum cleaner over the carpeted floors so Sable scrubbed the bathrooms and replenished the toilet papers, hand towels, and soaps. Then mother and daughter were on to their next client.

The next night, Robin was working late at Prentiss Chevrolet. It was Nicolette and Theresa cleaning the offices. Both Latin women were quite heavy-set, both had been cursed with muddy looking complexions. Neither were very pleasant to look at, from front or back.

Robin logged onto his security camera and looked at Boudreaux Ford. He saw Sable peer into his office and saw the look of disappointment on her face. Robin smiled as he saw her reach back and pull the denim shorts out of the crack of her ass. He resolved he would be behind his desk at Boudreaux Ford the next evening.

"Eh? You boyfriend, he not here?" Carmen teased her daughter.

Sable didn't answer, just sullenly did her work. Bob Brundett, the landlord still had not gotten around to fixing their air conditioning and the apartment had been broiling hot.

They'd gone to Richards, Pellichet & Jones law firm and Sable and Carmen met with Trevor Williams, a young associate with the firm. As they usually did, Carmen pretended to speak no English and Sable 'translated' for her. They showed Trevor the times and dates of their complaints to their landlord, showed him that this had been going on for five days now.

"The air conditioning died five days ago?" The handsome young man asked.

Sable was looking at Robin McNeil, Trevor's red headed paralegal. The girl had the milky white skin and splotchy freckles that many red heads are cursed with. The girl's green eyes peered into Sable's deep brown ones and an understanding passed between them.

Sable found herself attracted to both girls and boys. There were many things about another female that pleased her, that intrigued her. There were also many facets about boys that pleased her and interested her.

She had enjoyed the soft tender kisses of a few girls, had also enjoyed the soft, tender caresses of these girls.

Boys were a little rougher, but sometimes she liked the slightly rougher feeling of their lips, the gentle rasping of their rougher skin as they groped her large breasts, groped her rounded buttocks.

Right now, peering into Robin McNeil's eyes, Sable looked forward to tasting the red head's lips, smelling her sweat, her gentle perfume.

Carmen slapped Sable's arm.