Part 6

As with most days over the last forty one years, Elizabeth Finney awoke under her husband impaled upon his oversized morning erection. He always had the good manners to lubricate himself before attacking her, and he’d never wake her up till he was planted well inside her and pumping vigorously. As always, Liz Finney awoke with a start, instinctively wrapping her arms desperately around Chester. Elizabeth’s body responded positively to the almost daily assault with submissive passion. She clung to him even after he’d spent and rolled off her, her body quivering in the aftermath of traumatic orgasms. Her hand would eventually move to the member so oversized on Chester’s diminutive body. Nobody would believe it to be that large without seeing it first hand, and it was never, ever less than half erect. Liz knew from experience it never took more than a moment’s to be ready to for more. Liz Finney could be forgiven for believing all men were this way. Chester’s was the only penis she’d ever known.

Eventually, if he did not take her again, he’d slip off to the lavatory to shower. Chester was fast, in and out of the shower in less than five minutes. It allowed Liz to go into the bathroom and take her time without guilt.

Elizabeth relieved herself and took an enema, cleaning out her bowls thoroughly. In the shower, she douched. When Liz was satisfied of her cleanliness, she reached for a bottle of scented mineral oil. Her current favorite was infused with peach extract, and coated her entire body with a thick sheen. Liz hoped Martha was still doing it, as Liz had taught her. By the look of Martha’s skin, she very likely was.

But no matter, Liz thought as she donned the only dress she’d not donated to the Salvation Army. The dress, a Navy Blue Kerry Washington had been Elizabeth’s favorite for the past five years. It had served Liz well as it could be a professional dress, a greeting dress or even a casual dress. Well, casual is relative, of course. Casual in the circles Elizabeth Finney travelled in would be far different than casual for say, Jeanine Philips…

“We need to go, Liz!” called Chester. “We need to be there by nine!”
“Oh, Chester,” said Liz. “You know we have plenty of time. And I need to put on my face. You don’t want an old hag on your arm when we meet the new Mrs. Bailey, do you?”

As a good husband, Chester heeded his wife’s desperate cry for attention. He came into the bathroom and kissed his Liz’s cheek.

“You’re nothing close to a hag,” said the balding little man. “Mrs. Bailey will be so very jealous of you; she’ll be green with envy.”

Yes, Chester might not be much to look at, but he was a very, very good husband, Liz knew.

As it happened, the Finneys arrived five minutes early and the Baileys were late. Leonard Bailey Liz knew from his days as Chester’s attorney twenty years before. He’d since moved to Arizona after culling the first Mrs. Bailey and promptly remarried. Liz had never known Leo’s second wife. His third turned out to be a true west coast girl.

When Leo and Mrs. Bailey arrived, Elizabeth could barely believe her eyes. She’d heard about the kind of cloths professional women wore in the West, but, this being her first trip west of the Appalachian, she scarcely believed it.

Even so, Mrs. Bailey was dressed for success with a lovely blue silk scarf around her neck and matching pumps. What would have been scandalous back home was the dress made of see through white silk and under which Mrs. Bailey wore nothing at all.

Elizabeth had to keep herself from uttering an embarrassing outburst as the two approached. As one who had travelled extensively in Europe, Elizabeth found herself for the first time in a place where such attire was not only acceptable, but commonplace. The only contact she’d with it she had encountered before was in the society pages that loved to lampoon Sheila Jackson, wife of California Senator Marcus Jackson. But that was a problem in Washington DC, a city that Elizabeth loathed, and kept her husband as far away from as possible.

Other than Mrs. Bailey’s attire, it was a boring affair. It always was when Chester and Leo were together. Liz was relieved when she was finally back in the Jaguar next to Chester, listening to Cole Porter music and speeding toward Poppyfield.

Then Elizabeth found herself in Martha’s living room. Martha stood naked in front of her, and Liz wanted to weep at her daughter’s beauty. She had managed to get the toilets done and the cloths folded, when she had come back downstairs to check on Martha and Jeanine, only to find them making love on the kitchen table. That was not that big of a surprise. Liz had seen Jeanine discretely touching Martha several times over the past day, so she had suspected they were lovers. Elizabeth watched, taking a wickedly guilty pleasure in seeing Jeanine’s hand disappear inside Martha, and Martha seeming to enjoy every second of it. Liz hated herself for thinking of her daughter this way, but there it was… Martha was a woman, a beautiful one at that. And she was sensual beyond what Liz would have imagined.

Liz watched till the two lay still on the table and held each other. Then she made her way outside and began sweeping the front porch. It wasn’t very long before Liz saw her granddaughters walking up with the Philips sisters. Liz panicked, knowing Martha was still inside, without a stitch to wear.

“Hello, Darlings!” Liz yelled at the top of her lungs, waving. “I ordered a limousine to take us all to the mall.”

She kept them in the front yard as long as she could, even going so far as to invite the Philips girls. Chester would kill her if she spent too much, but he’d understand when she explained the dilemma. After she sent the Philips girls in to see their mother, she rushed into the kitchen, grabbing her own dress off the coffee table as she went, to find Martha standing naked in the kitchen looking terrified. Liz was quite proud of herself for rescuing the situation.

“Driver,” Elizabeth said. “Can you honk the horn once? I have a lagging girl in there…”

“Of course, ma’am,” said the woman in front of the stretch limousine. The horn sounded for just long enough to make its point as Chester’s Jaguar rolled up. Elizabeth stepped out again and waited for Chester to get out, even as Tina arrived and jumped into the Limousine.

“Hello, Darling,” said Elizabeth.

“Is everything alright?” asked Chester, worried.

“Quite alright,” she smiled. “You should know, darling, that I was right.”

“About?”

“Martha and Jeanine, they are lovers.”

“And you know this how?”

“Darling, I just watched the two of them making love on Martha’s kitchen table.”

“Oh my,” he said.

“Yes,” Liz nodded.

“Well,” he said. “Like mother like daughter.”

“Indeed,” Liz smiled, and kissed his cheek. “Be good. I must be off. I have shopping to do.”

“Have fun!”

Elizabeth got back into the limousine and soon it was off. The ride was a delightful excursion into the world of her granddaughters and their friends. The girls excitedly recounted the afternoon’s events that had signaled a budding romance between Dana and the highschool’s star athlete.

“And then, he kissed her again!” said dark haired Lindsey Philips enthusiastically.

“What did you whisper in his ear, Dana?” asked strawberry blonde Lana with her big brown eyes and pert smile.

Dana blushed. “I told him I deserved a kiss too.”

“I take it he’s very handsome,” said Elizabeth.

“He’s beyond that,” said Lorrie, strawberry blonde like her sister Lana, but small chested like her sister Lindsey. “He’s Hawt!”

“And did you see Barbie’s face?” asked Lindsey.

“Who’s Barbie?” asked Elizabeth. The barrage of answers came and Elizabeth was able to glean that Barbie was head cheerleader, beautiful, blonde, well endowed, stuck up and a “Royal Beotch!” When Elizabeth heard about Barbie throwing her shoe she broke into a fit of giggles worthy of a pre-teen. It touched off a cacklefest of laughter in the packed compartment.

“I know someone exactly like that,” said Elizabeth, wiping away tears.

“Who is she, Gramma?” asked Tina.

“Her name is Georgia Monroe,” said Liz, almost wishing she was not talking about this. But why not? “She is, indeed, a Royal Beotch!” Liz liked how the word “beotch” rolled off her tongue as she spoke of Georgia. “She’s President of my bridge club, and is quite a good player. But when we formed the club it was strictly for social entertainment. Georgia ruined it.”

“How’d she do that?” asked Lana.

“Well,” said Liz, organizing her thoughts so they would be less emotional and more understandable. “She had lived some time in London. Her husband was an assistant to the Ambassador, you see. So we were all quite impressed with her when she first arrived at the country club, and we welcomed her into our little card games. She lorded over us how she’d been presented to the Queen, and her opinions on proper etiquette were not to be questioned. Soon, she set herself up as club president and made it a very official organization, complete with regional bridge competitions. We never intended any of that, and many of us were uncomfortable with it and where it was going. Nine months ago, we found out exactly where it was going.”

“Yes?” Tina said. “Where was it going?”

“Well, nine months ago, Georgia organized a competition. We’d all get ranked. The lowest ranked player would be the main course at the final game night. One of my closest friends lost eight years prematurely. Three months ago, another did. She was effectively weeding out all those that had begun to show any reservation about what was happening. The final day of competition for this quarter is on Sunday.”

“Wait,” Lana said. “How come you guys let her do all that?”

“Popularity will get someone a very long way,” said Elizabeth.

“Gramma,” said Dana. “Sunday? Does this have to do with what you said last night?”

Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, dear, it does. As it turns out, I happen to be the lowest ranked player. I have no hope of gaining a rank unless someone loses intentionally, and nobody does that.”

“Oh!” said Dana. “I get it. Pity you can’t get back at Georgia.”

Liz smiled. “Well, as I said. Georgia’s quite a good player. But she’s not the best. Before Georgia came along, we had all been playing for years. The other members are very, very good, and have become much better since Georgia instituted her plan… anyone care to guess who the second lowest ranked player currently is?”

“Nooo!” said Tina.

“That’s right, dear! Georgia Monroe herself.”

“Does she know?” Lana asked.

“Does who know?” Liz replied.

“Does Mrs. Monroe know?”

Elizabeth laughed, sounding a bit maniacal, even to herself. “She will on Sunday!”

Again, the girls descended into howls of laughter.

“Gramma!” Sandy said. “That’s so baad of you!”

“Well, dear,” said Liz. “A woman should reserve the right to be devious… when appropriate of course!”

“So that’s why you’re here,” said Dana.

“Yes,” admitted Liz.

“And because of Mom?” asked Dana.

“Yes.”

“That’s beautiful,” said Dana.

“Thank you, dear,” Liz favored her blonde granddaughter with a smile.

The limousine pulled up to the Poppyfield Mall between Macy’s and the Emporium.

“Now, girls,” said Elizabeth as they made their way in. “I expect all of you to be on your best behavior. Is that understood?”

“Yes Ma’am,” said the Philips sisters.

“Yes, Gramma,” said the granddaughters.

“I’m quite serious,” said Liz. “Amanda’s has been known to eject disruptive girls, so no mischief… Yes Tina, I mean you! And, I suspect, Lorrie as well.” Liz smiled at both of them.

The mall was like any other across the country. It was two stories above ground with a third level below. The atmosphere was noticeably more humid inside than out to accommodate the myriad of ferns and ficuses that provided greenery and absorbed sound. What distinguished this shopping center more than anything from its east coast counterparts were the customers. They were, of course, mostly female. Elizabeth wouldn’t recall seeing a single male here today. Professional women tried makeup, hats and eyewear at kiosks. Roving bands of mall rats squealed and giggled annoyingly, thank goodness the girls in her charge were not acting so uncouth, and married mothers, often great with child, herded children from store to store, looking for bargains to cloth their expensive broods. They were, by and large, from more well to do neighborhoods than the one in which Martha lived. Those mall rats still in school uniforms tended to wear silk and wool rather than cotton blend and polyester that Elizabeth’s charges wore. Those same upper middle class mall rats looked sideways at Elizabeth’s girls, noting the low quality of their uniforms. So, on the surface, it was all quite normal here.

While it was not immediately apparent, this turned out to be a true western setting. The first thing that made Liz’s eyes pop was a professional woman trying on a hat. It seemed so normal. She wore an off white skirt and matching blazer made of fine Egyptian cotton, with a silk necktie dangling down her front. The woman’s “top” was, in fact, paint! It was simply painted over her breasts. Another woman was dressed similarly, but instead had a transparent scarf knotted between her breasts as a top.

They passed all too familiar shops – C&R, Jacob’s Shoes, and the very low brow Fredrick’s. Amanda’s Boudoir, thankfully, had become the 800lbs Gorilla in women’s intimate apparel, displacing more salacious retailers like Fredrick’s.

True to West Coast values, the sales girls were not clad in professional blouses and black slacks as they would have been back East. Instead they wore black and white frilly underwear with black silk stalking and black pumps. They looked terribly vulnerable to Elizabeth’s eyes.

The very white skinned redhead nearest the door looked quite startled when she saw the gaggle of lower middle class teenagers approaching. Elizabeth accosted the poor woman before she could protest, and before any of the other salesgirls could bar the door. Liz quickly read the redhead’s nametag. It said “I’m for sale as CARISSA0167 at amandasboudoir.market”

“Miss Carissa,” said Elizabeth. “I am Mrs. Finney and these are my granddaughters Tina, Dana, Melanie, Sandra and Corrine, and their friends Lorrie, Lana and Lindsey. We have a special event on Saturday and I need these girls looking like proper ladies in their underthings…” she looked Miss Carissa in the eye, and produced her International Express Platinum Card. “I’m sure you’ll want to check my credit.”

The woman’s surprise was evident for only an instant. It was very quickly replaced with a delighted smile.

“That won’t be necessary, Mrs. Finney,” said Carissa. “I’m sure we’d be delighted to help the young ladies find what their looking for.”

Carissa took the girls in hand, and Elizabeth was quite proud of the fact that the girls remained on their best behavior, acting like proper ladies. Well, in behavior, yes, taste, that was another matter. Dana arrived to show Liz a god awful red and white set that was not worthy of this establishment.

“Dana,” said Elizabeth. “Underthings should enhance a woman’s beauty, not distract from it. Flamboyance is good under the right circumstances, but you want to be seen, not ignored in favor of what little you’re wearing.”

Carissa nodded. “She’s very right,” the redhead said. “Let’s check over here,” the salesgirl led Dana to a rack of items more suitable. She selected a very light, almost white pink set, looked toward Elizabeth and smiled when Elizabeth nodded in approval. When Dana tried it on, she looked… well, delightfully virginal, and quite alluring. Elizabeth knew then Dana to be a young woman, rather than a little girl…

“Wow, Dana!” said Lindsey.

“You look good enough to eat,” said Cory.

“Really?” said Dana hopefully. “But will Bart like it?”

Late, Elizabeth pulled Lana aside.

“Dear, are you the same size as your mother in the bust line?”

“Yeah, Mrs. Finney,” said the girl. “I had to use her bras when mine kind of… well they grew very fast.”

Elizabeth nodded sympathetically. “We should find something nice for your mother as well. She’s been a very good friend to my daughter.”

“That’s really nice of you, Mrs. Finney.”

“Well, I’ll need you and your sisters’ help selecting something appropriate. It should be in her favorite color.”

“That would be yellow,” Lana smiled.

“Remember, classic and simple is better than loud and distracting!”

Elizabeth went looking through the racks herself with Martha’s nakedness re-emerging in her memory. Martha in ecstasy as Jeanine pleasured her on her own kitchen table replayed in Elizabeth’s mind… as did the image of the two cuddling together with her friend, weeping in the afterglow…

Thank God Jeanine was nothing at all like Georgia Monroe! And even if she was, she wouldn’t have time to break Martha’s heart.

Elizabeth pulled out a pearl white set that was mostly shimmering lace. It was beautiful to Liz’s eyes, but she couldn’t imagine Martha in it.

“Dana,” she called.

“Yes Gramma?”

“Which of your sisters is closest to your mother’s size?”

“Tina, I think.”

“What?” Tina’s head came up with her name.

“Tina,” said Liz. “Try these on. See if they will fit please.”

“But I already picked out a set!”

“They’re for your mother.”

“Oh! Okay!”

As Elizabeth expected, they were perfect. And she did believe Tina was very near Martha’s size. They made Tina look classic and virginal…

Later, at the register, Carissa summed up the purchases to over twelve hundred, which made the girls’ eyes pop. Liz simply handed over her International Express Platinum Card, and accounts were settled.

Within minutes of leaving Amanda’s Boudoir, the group found itself at an Estée Lauder kiosk where faces were painted and nails were manicured. A light dinner completed the evening.

“We were talking earlier about who would get spitted with their mom if she asked,” said Tina out of the blue.

“And who would?” asked Elizabeth.

“Lindsey would,” said Lana.

“I would,” admitted Lindsey.

“So would I,” said Lorrie.

“You finally decided?” asked Lindsey, to which Lorrie nodded.

“Yeah,” said Lorrie. “I thought about it all afternoon. I did say I’d do anything to make her happy, and I would.”

“Now that’s very sweet of you, dear,” said Elizabeth.

“How did you ask Mom, Gramma?” asked Tina.

Elizabeth shook her head. “I did not.”

“You didn’t?”

“No,” said Elizabeth. “She was kind enough to offer on her own.”

“So,” said Tina. “You didn’t want her to get spitted with you?”

“Oh, I certainly was hoping she would. But I simply couldn’t expect it. And I just couldn’t bring myself to ask. I doubt any mother who loves her child could bring herself to do that, as much as she might want it. Martha, your mother, seemed to know my desires instinctively.”

“So,” said Lindsey. “When my mom decides to get spitted, I should offer?”

“I’m quite sure that would be appropriate,” said Elizabeth.

“Gramma,” said Tina. “What else could I do? I mean, what else is there, aside from volunteering, that would be something I could do for Mom?”

“Well,” Elizabeth was thoughtful. “I know in Kobe, Japan, they massage their girls daily. They are said to be the most pampered farm girls in the world. Girls actually volunteer to be Kobe girls.”

“So I should volunteer to be a Kobe Girl?” asked Tina.

“No, no,” Elizabeth laughed. “Not at all. I’m sorry, I’m not being clear. All I meant was that a nice massage would probably be a nice thing to do.”

“You went a long way around to get there,” said Dana.

“I do that sometimes, dear,” said Elizabeth.

The limousine was waiting for them at the appointed place when Elizabeth pushed the call button. They arrived home well past sundown. Elizabeth checked her watch, it was nine-thirty. My how time flies…

The Philips girls were quite gracious in showing their appreciation. Elizabeth found them delightful… and hoped Chester would not be terribly angry with her for spending so much. But Elizabeth’s reward had yet to come.

“Mrs. Finney,” asked Lana as she said goodnight.

“Yes dear?”

“Can I call you ‘Gramma?’” the girl looked hopeful with luminous dark eyes. “I never knew my real Grandmother.”

Elizabeth was taken aback. She blushed, and tears stung her eyes. “Of course, dear!”

“Thank you, Gramma!” said Lana with a hug. “Love you!”

“Thank you, Gramma!” said the other two Philips girls. And they rushed away, leaving Elizabeth with an errant tear escaping.

Elizabeth turned t the Limousine driver, handed the woman the call button and a pair of twenty notes.

“Thank you, dear,” she told the woman.

“My pleasure, Ma’am!” said the driver.

Inside, Martha was washing dishes, or had been. Now she was surrounded with her squealing offspring who gleefully displayed their treasure. Elizabeth could see through the back screen door three male faces, two of which she knew, who’s expression told her they dared not enter this estrogen sea that had flooded the kitchen. The girls pulled out Martha’s new pearl white lacey things and begged her to put them on. Then all decided to model their new attire to the men out back.

Outside, Elizabeth found her husband and son in law enjoying the balmy Arizona November evening with bottle’s of locally brewed beer made by Donald’s friend and co-worker Frank Stolz. Young Mr. Stolz turned out to be husband to Martha’s friend Chelsea, who had retired early. He was, Elizabeth mused, five foot seven, a full two inches shorter than his tall wife and barely an inch taller than Elizabeth herself. While the girls paraded before the group in their underthings, the men, Donald and Frank, that is, went on and on about this woman from work named Morgan who they were convinced was bent on making their lives miserable.

But all that was forgotten when Martha appeared in her new garb.

“Honey!” Don said, without lying, Elizabeth was convinced. “You look fantastic!”

“Oh, stop,” said Martha. Of course, husbands always lie to their wives… but Liz was still convinced of Donald’s honesty. By the color that came to Martha’s creamy bare skin, so was she.

“He’s right, Martha!” said Frank. “You’re definitely one hot milf!”

“What’s a milf?” Elizabeth asked.

Chester started laughing, then turned to her and whispered. “It’s an acronym for a mother I’d love to fuck.”

“That’s obscene!” Elizabeth protested.

“That’s the point!” laughed Chester.

“You guys!” Martha said in a whiney, if satisfied, little voice. She was beat red and playing with her hair. “Oh, Mother! Before I forget. Bev called. She doesn’t arrive till noon tomorrow.”

“Noon? What happened?”

“The earlier flight got canceled,” Martha said. “She didn’t say why.”

“That’s right,” Chester said. “So I can’t be there. Why don’t you and Marty take a limo to pick her up.”

“Alright. Did she say if she’s bringing Jack?” asked Elizabeth.

“He’s not,” said Martha. “She said Debbie is coming, though.”

“”Well,” said Elizabeth. “That’s a shame.”

“Why’s that, Mother?” asked Martha. “I don’t recall you and Jack being close at all… in fact…”

“Yes, dear. I know. But it means Beverly won’t be joining us on the table…”

“Oh,” said Martha. “But Jeanine is.”

“What?”

Martha nodded, so did Chester.

“She and officer Ron signed the papers half an hour ago,” said Chester.

“Yeah,” said Frank. “Then they ran off like two horny jackrabbits.”

“I hope that’s alright, darling,” said Chester.

“Oh my!” said Elizabeth. “Yes, Darling. It’s more than alright. Jeanine is an even better friend than I thought,” she said, smiling at Martha, who blushed again under her mother’s gaze, this time with real embarrassment.

“Yoo-hoo!” called an annoyingly shrill voice. “Hello all!”

“Hello, Helen,” droned all present less than enthusiastically.

“I found a new recipe for stuffing that you all simply have to try…”