WMD Ch. 02

When Taliyah went for the double-handed blows he rolled away, forcing her to get off the bed to pursue him. She launched herself upon his prone form, continuing to pillow-pummel him. He didn't laugh, or mock her. Instead, he let her exhaust herself both physically and emotionally.

"I hate you," she glowered down on him. She saddled his stomach, still in her cheerleader outfit with her chest heaving. I was starting to figure out this guy-girl thing because I knew it was time for to me go. The moan I heard rumbling deep in Taliyah's bosom was one of passion sealed with a kiss. Compared to the situation downstairs ... there I feared I would have to play referee to avoid hair-pulling, the foulest of language and the incidental blood-letting.

{meanwhile at the Fonteneau house}

Andrea felt awkward when things started out. Slowly the feeling of comfort seeped in around her. She, Bebe and Mr. Samsonov kept silent vigil over their delicious meals. Everyone else chatted away about their days, articles they'd read and things going on at the children's elementary school. She'd worried when she'd been placed beside Alexander ~ he seemed to know a great deal about his English teacher yet he'd pretty much ignored her once dinner was served.

Watching him play 'big brother' to Consuela's offspring was somewhat endearing. Andrea was even able to brush up some of her Spanish comprehension as the three Hispanic adults, Mrs. Samsonov and the two youngsters switched back and forth between the languages. In a serious way, she was saddened when the meal ended.

"We all take our plates to the kitchen," Alexander finally spoke to her.

She'd been day-dreaming while she ate, so she'd missed the completion of dessert.

"Okay," she smiled. Kamika and Alexander took over the dishwashing duties with the help of Gustavo, Consuela's ten-year old son. The daughter, Isabo, was six, so too small to be of much help. Mr. Samsonov left with Anita to drive her home while Consuela, the Martinez's and Isabo retired to the den to watch Azteca Spanish-language television.

"Come with us," Mrs. Samsonov ~ Gayle directed. The woman had an imperious way about her. She and Bebe followed the Lady of the House to the den as well. She fixed them drinks. Andrea protested initially then gratefully accepted something in a tall glass called a Cape Codder = vodka and cranberry juice. She downed it a bit too fast so Gayle fixed her a second one before the three women migrated out to the back deck.

"Alexander thinks the world of you," Gayle told her out of the blue.

"Huh? Me? I had no idea. He's been a pleasant student," Andrea mumbled.

"Alexander is a nice, young man," Bebe spoke for the first time.

"Too true," Gayle chuckled. "He's the most mild-mannered one of the bunch, like his Pappa. Vlad is a bit too clever and Mikhail is a bit too mean-spirited - like me."

"I haven't had problems with any of your sons, Mrs." Andrea sensed she'd messed up. "Gayle." She had Vlad for both English and Social Studies and Mikhail and Alexander in the same English class. The upland air was sliding down the battered peaks of the Ozarks, putting an early chill in the air. Andrea found herself staring at an empty glass.

"Let me refresh that for you," Gayle smiled. The rest of the night was a blur.