Her Mother’s Daughter
3. Processional — I march to the beat of someone else’s drum..
No job, no immediate parental responsibilities so I had a lie-in on Tuesday morning. Got up about ten and took a slow shower: as I dried myself off afterwards I kept letting my eyes stray to the mirror. The woman reflected back had a sad face: too long to be considered beautiful; but not ugly by British standards. Her lips were full and her nose small with an up-turned tip: the eyes were hazel and wide-spaced: the whole lot being framed by long, very straight mousey-coloured hair with a centre parting.
I struck a pose: the figure was a slim: 36-26-36. I stared at it... It would have to do as it was all that I had. The skin was pale, despite my using the tanning bed at the near-by beauty parlour recently. I ran my hands down my curves and enjoyed the sensation. My pubic hair was neatly trimmed into a fashionable landing strip. I half turned and looked over my shoulder to get a glimpse of the rear aspect —NICE ARSE! Though I do say so myself. I’d love to get my hands on one like it... May be if I fattened Sammie up a little.
I stopped dead! The enormity of my unguarded thought suddenly hit me. I had never thought of my daughter in that way... Not ever! My mind was in free-fall as the panic hit me: she was my own flesh and blood; my child; my baby! I should not think of her in those terms! Was it guilt? I don’t know, but I suddenly felt slightly sick. I could go on about “forbidden-fruit”; but that would only be true if I was tempted to taste it.
I really wasn’t...
I definitely wasn’t...
I spun around and leaned over the hand basin, my weight supported by my hands that gripped the sides. There was a small dry heave then nothing. Nothing but the memory of Sammie throwing up in the front hall. My stomach settled as I realised that whatever happened, I was going to have to do something about her!
I hurriedly dressed myself and finished my hair and make-up. I was expecting visitors and I had my standards.
It was two o’clock when a car rolled up outside my house, it was Maud’s She was accompanied by Milly, of all people. Milly the mad stress councillor. I greeted the women at the front door and ushered them into the lounge where they accepted the ritual offer of tea. As I poured the hot water into the pot I realised that my life and relationships were about to go under a spotlight, so to speak.
After the the normal small talk and tea-sipping, Milly broached the subject that I dreaded being raised. “So, Caitlyn, I hear from Maud that you have been having trouble with your daughter?”
I tried to play it down: but how could I with both a psychologist and a psychiatrist watching my every nuance and twitch? “Oh she’s not so bad, just a bit mouthy and rude. You know what adolescents are like.”
Maud raised an eyebrow, but much to my surprise, remained silent.
Milly gave me a knowing half smile. “That’s not what your body language is telling me, dear, you are terrified of losing her, aren’t you?” She smiled reassuringly. “Don’t worry, Caitlyn, I can bring her over: what I’ve heard about her behaviour tells me that it shouldn’t be difficult”
I was mystified by this. What on Earth could she mean? I wondered.
Suddenly Maud jumped to her feet and excused herself, apparently she had left something in her car, she headed off and I heard the front door slam.
I had been about to say that I did not really want anything to happen to my daughter, that she was just fine how she was: but much of my courage departed with Maud. I was alone with a woman who I did not know; she turned her full gaze on me. Her brown eyes seemed to burn into me for several seconds before she spoke. I had the distinct feeling that she was looking straight into my soul which made me shudder involuntarily.
“Caitlyn.” She said very quietly. “Maud was kind enough to tell me of your problem.” She spoke very softly, her voice loaded with empathy. “I would like to hear of it straight from you in your own words.”
I rallied. “Honestly, Milly, I do not have a problem... There has been a slight misunderstanding, that’s all.” I was going to end it right there and then. It was a silly idea; a disgusting idea: she was my daughter for God’s sake... I did not fancy her, even if she was beautiful with a nice arse.
The woman smiled, her very expression seemed to make me want to trust her: she knew best, well didn’t she? Her eyes were warm and reassuring and without meaning too, I found myself staring into them.
“Let me decide.” She said, her voice even softer than before. “But first I need to hear your story. Tell me what has happened. Tell me why you are so upset.”
I relaxed in my chair and began to pour my heart out: I didn’t mean to, but I just could not help myself. I told a perfect stranger about what I had been going through for the last four years: the abuse, the insults, the scorn, the hatred: all of it.
She sat there and soaked it all up. Her eyes never left me and I couldn’t look away. Occasionally she would interrupt my tale of woe with a carefully worded question such as was Sammie ever violent towards me?
I answered. “No, never: she doesn’t need to be.”
Then Milly had me repeat, word for word what my daughter had said. This reduced me to tears, but I kept on.
“Oh, you poor child! Come and sit by me.” She instructed very quietly as she patted the couch cushion.
I couldn’t think clearly: but my legs obeyed anyway and I found myself cuddling up to her. She slipped a comforting arm around my shoulders and listened as I trotted out my catalogue of woes. She was quiet and non-judgemental: a good listener who never criticised Sammie once. I guess that I must have been talking for an hour and a half: it honestly did not seem like it; but it must have been, for the front door slammed and Samantha was home.
“Please, Caitlyn, I would very much like to meet your daughter.” The quiet voice seemed to ask from deep within me.
Without thinking, I called out. I shouldn’t have done but I did and it was this that wrote my child’s future. “Sammie? Could you come in here please: there’s someone that I’d like you to meet.”
Here I was, make-up smeared and tear stained: my hair dishevelled and another woman with her arm around me and I had invited my daughter in.
She poked her head around the door and froze: her expression, a mask of fear that seemed to change slowly into... into... Jealousy. The voice, when she found it, was more of a shriek. “You filthy fucking bitch: I told you that I don’t want to meet your dyke girlfriends. You disgust me!”
She slammed the lounge door and stamped up the stairs to her room.
A very quiet voice muttered in my ear. “Now I know that I can help you.”
I don’t know why, but I relaxed and suddenly Milly pressed her lips against mine and kissed me passionately. I reacted just like a teenaged girl and folded into her embrace. One thing followed another and I found myself on my knees between her thighs: her skirt was hiked up and she wore no panties. The smell of her vagina was subtly powerful and seemed to draw my face towards it. Sammie was wrong about one thing: this woman was far too powerful and classy to be a girlfriend of mine.
Milly shuffled forward until my nose was up against her labial folds and then her hands gently pressed against the back of my head. I sighed and lost myself in her. I’ve never been a fan of oral sex; or at least not of performing it: being licked out, now that is entirely different. I just don’t enjoy doing it: or at least I didn’t before that afternoon. Milly was different and using my tongue on her seemed to be the thing that I most wanted to do in all of the world. Gently she interlocked her feet behind my back and I was trapped in the place where I most wanted to be.
I hesitantly tasted her... She tasted clean, that’s all... Clean. I’d only tasted a couple of women before: they’d been sort of musky, slightly earthy or even sweet. But Milly just tasted clean. I stabbed my tongue out again and felt it enter her waiting vagina as it slipped in past the thin folds of her inner lips. What was I doing? I was on the floor in my own living room ‘servicing’ a stranger. This was at odds with the real me: sex should be between close friends, lovers even: not between a supplicant and her ‘goddess’. I had no control over Milly, I don’t think anyone has, but much worse, I had no control over me. As I said oral sex was not my thing and I was faintly repelled by it. Why? Because my mouth was only inches from her arsehole. I definitely wasn’t into arseholes, I didn’t even like touching my own.
I licked upwards and found the tiny nubbin of her clit hidden by its little hood: as I brushed against it I heard her gasp. I ran my tongue around it in a little circle and felt the flap of skin move. She uttered something that I did not hear and clamped her legs more tightly around me... I licked again, then sucked her inner lips into my mouth and she groaned and convulsed pulling my nose into her flesh: for a moment I panicked, as I couldn’t breath but she relaxed again and allowed me to wriggle into a more comfortable position.
There was no turning back: she seemed to possess me, I was hers. There was very little taste but there was a warm musky smell, a beautiful smell, a feminine smell. What if Sammie were to walk in now? What would she think? Another moment of panic.
I licked and licked and Milly began to spasm. Her hips bucked and I thought that she would break my neck. Is it possible to die of cunnilingus? By now I didn’t care as she began to ooze more of her silky vaginal lubricant: I drank it down until the spasms culminated in an enormous judder as she grabbed my hair and began to rub my face against her vagina: I stopped licking and fought again for breath as she masturbated herself against me. There was another enormous spasm and then she relaxed and let me go.
“Very good, Caitlyn.” She purred. “Very good indeed.”
I looked up from the floor and could see her satisfied smile.
I heard a noise behind me and once more panicked. Oh, God, Sammie’s seen it all! Echoed through my empty head.
I spun around, but it wasn’t my little girl, it was Maud, she was leaning against the door frame with a leer plastered across her face. I later found out that she’d been sitting in my kitchen the whole time.
Suddenly Milly grabbed my arms and lifted me... Our mouths met as she kissed me expertly for more than a minute and tongue-fucked me into the bargain. “Very good indeed!”
I was short of breath and my poor head was still spinning as I crawled up onto the couch beside her however her attitude had changed: she now took full charge of the proceedings and all I could do was say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ or even just nod and grunt almost inaudibly.
Maud sat in the chair opposite, her knees apart, just like a man’s, but she said nothing as Milly continued, her voice even more silky-soft than before...
“You do not deserve the problems that you have had with your daughter, it is so painful that I do not know how you have been able to cope, but rest assured, it is over. We will now discuss the permanent solution. You love her and should be able to take things further and please, do not think of it as incest: think of it as regaining control of your life!” The words flowed like honeyed water and all I could do was nod my agreement.
I wanted to shout: “No! I’ve changed my mind!” But all that came out was a quick nod and a quiet “Yes, Milly.” I was completely under her spell.
“So you want Samantha to become your intimate companion, you want the pair of you to make love together and you want her to enjoy it?”
I nodded again. Of course I wanted her to enjoy it; what sort of monster did she think that I was? Sex should be enjoyed by both parties! Stands to reason, doesn’t it?
“She will not only love you but she will be in love with you. No more fighting, no more rows, no more abuse.”
“You...You can do all of this for me? ... For us?” I asked slightly exhilarated. I would have my little girl back AND she would be nice to me for the first time in years. No more battles!
Milly shook her head gently. “No, Caitlyn, we can do it between us!” She then explained how and why it would be very easy.
After she had gone, I cleared away the tea things. Milly was a remarkable woman although she no longer worked as a councillor and was an accountant at a company called Forbes Lifechem... Now where have I heard that name before?
But that said and done, she had read the situation in a way that had not occurred to me. Maud agreed with her conclusions and wished me luck in my endeavours. It sounded so very simple but surely it couldn’t be? Could it? Well could it?