Sex in Society Ssn. 01 Ep. 01: New Beginnings

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Author’s (lengthy) note: I have finally returned to Literotica. Every week I will be posting one episode from the first half of Sex in Society, Season 1; episodes 1-5 this spring, 6-10 over the summer, and 11-15 in the Fall.

I like to think I’ve improved a lot since writing Mistle Family; which has been largely absorbed into this series, so lovers of Jenni, Chelsea, and Mandy can enjoy these new adventures. The idea for this originated years ago when I was watching a couple of shows with my mom; Sex and the City and later Desperate Housewives. How about a Desperate Housewife show in an all-girl community? Thus, Sex in Suburbia was born.

Over the years, the idea changed, characters changed, even the title has changed, until I was finally competent enough to do the idea justice. I can honestly say this is my best work thus far and even though this episode is a little light on sexual intimacy, following episodes (I like calling it episodes, because of my original “TV Show” idea) will contain some scorching hot content. I want you to at least get to know each of the focal characters first.

Finally, feel free to comment your honest thoughts, feelings, ideas, what you liked or didn’t like, etc. I hope you don’t mind, and I know it’s typically counter to etiquette, but I like to interact with you, the reader. Were this a book published elsewhere, I would not interact with readers/reviewers because then it’s this whole big thing. Since this is more of a free-form medium, I’d love to be able to talk to you and learn from you so that I may improve my future work. Thank you.

*****

Scene 01—The Amores

Kansas Amore unlocked the door to her new life and stepped inside, tentative at first. To her right was the furnished open-concept kitchen, very modern, with three chairs pulled up to a marble-top breakfast bar on the far side. Not that the Amore family would eat breakfast together. When was the last time that happened?

The counters, cabinets, and appliances were wonderfully synchronistic in keeping with the theme of darker colors on top and lighter colors below. While the kitchen itself was smaller than she was accustomed to, it was still a lovely space with room for two people to prepare food comfortably.

Straight ahead was the living room, also furnished nicely. A blue sofa against one wall, with a similarly colored loveseat up against the wall beside the sofa, just under a pair of unadorned windows. With a family of five, and only four seats in the living room, an additional seat would be nice. A recliner, perhaps.

Stepping further inside, the matriarch of the family noted the hardwood floors. A light hue, possibly oak. The hardwood stretched from the front door, to the kitchen, beyond to the living room, and off to the left where a dark wooden table and chairs were set. Kansas opened a closet to the left of the front door. Adequate room with a solid white bar on which to hang coats and, if no other space were available, a good place to store the vacuum and cleaning supplies below.

Having lived for twenty-plus years in a two-story ranch with over two thousand square-feet, Kansas assumed a condominium would be far too small for her family. With her younger sister Krystal living with them, they needed space even more. This luxury condominium Emma left to her and two other families in her will seemed…good enough. The average person whose tastes may be less refined would say this three-bedroom apartment was magnificent. Kansas said adequate.

Beyond the dining room was a small hallway, which Kansas could only guess held two of the bedrooms. To the right, between the kitchen and the living room, must be the third bedroom. Her bedroom. Kansas smiled, eager to see how big it was, because the biggest bedroom belonged to her. She took in a deep breath. The whole place had a clean scent, like the smell of a fresh start.

“Mom, where should I put my bags?” Shay, her youngest daughter, asked.

“You and Nikki will be staying in one of the bedrooms over there,” Kansas pointed to the hallway. “Krystal and Talia can take the other room, but you girls get the first pick.”

Not far behind Shay came Nikki rolling a piece of luggage in each hand. Kansas sighed with disappointment and regret whenever she looked at Nikki over the past few days; and Nikki didn’t appear completely happy about the arrangement either. Due to her father’s financial negligence, she was unable to pay for another semester of school. At twenty-six years old and on the verge of her Bachelor’s degree, she had to abandon her dreams and move in with her family.

“Nikki, hunnie, go with your sister and pick your room.”

“There better be separate beds,” Nikki muttered.

Curse that bastard, Mark. Kansas thought to herself. Her husband seemed like a successful real estate agent, affording them a life of luxury. They had it all; big house, fancy cars, everything. Then, Kansas started noticing strange things, like cars parked outside the house, the same vehicles bursa escort bayanlar driving behind them every so often. After months of that, two men came to the house while Mark was out. They disclosed some information, perhaps expecting Kansas to warn Mark he’s being watched; if he didn’t know by now. They said he was selling properties that didn’t exist, or undeveloped lots that appeared on paper to be worth far more than their actual value. Money came in from shell companies, but the investigation hit a dead end. They needed Mark.

The officers were right, Kansas told Mark the moment he came home that night. Investigators moved in on the house soon after the revelation, having heard through listening devices placed in the home. Mark was urged to co-operate against the organization employing him. For the safety of his family, he was taken into custody. Every penny they owned, which was never legally theirs, had been taken away. And if that weren’t enough, Kansas’ younger sister, Krystal, had been sent to prison on suspicion of murdering her husband two years ago. Kansas had been taking care of her niece Talia ever since.

“Nice place, right?” Krystal remarked. Any place was nicer than a ten-by-ten cell. Evidence began to suggest that she couldn’t have murdered her husband. The circumstantial evidence was vague at best and Krystal had won an appeal. However, she wasn’t completely free, yet.

“Mom,” Talia whispered. “The cops are here.”

Krystal turned and clutched her small bag with what remained of her possessions. They came to place an ankle monitor on her. Despite winning the appeal, due largely to the defense’s focus on the lack of proving her guilt, she remained the prime suspect. To prevent her from fleeing in the event she did commit the crime, her attorney struck a deal that rather than remain in prison, she could serve her time under house arrest. It wasn’t a total victory, but again it was better than a ten-by-ten cell.

The two bedrooms down the hall were the same size, but the farthest one had a bigger closet and was closer to the bathroom. Shay decided this would be their bedroom. It appeared the hardwood floor reached everywhere except here, because these rooms were carpeted in a light beige. The walls were uniformly white, but not too white—more eggshell than snow. A queen mattress rested in the far corner. Only one bed, Nikki noted. Along the right side of the wall stood two dressers; one tall and the other short and wide. The girls would likely be fighting over the dressers, but Shay was hoping her sister would win that war so she could claim the closet.

“You can have both dressers,” Nikki said, “Except the top drawer of one of them for my socks and underwear. I’ll take the closet.”

“What?” Shay was upset that Nikki took the closet she wanted first. A moment of hesitation cost her. “I…you know what? Fuck it. Take the closet.”

Nikki rolled her bags inside and closed the door. She’d unpack later. After an eventful few days, she wanted to relax. The bed looked comfortable, and upon collapsing atop it, felt nice and firm. Foam, rather than springs. Lying on the bed looking up at the pale ceiling, she thought about Carlos. He was a nice guy, a friend, whom had helped her during the break up. Jason was a piece of work. He cheated on her how many times? Eight or nine? No, more than that. Before she could start anything new with Carlos, before she could heal, her life had been torn from her. Dad ruined her life. Maybe all men were the same.

“You okay?” Shay asked as she lied down beside her.

“I’m fine,” Nikki replied, trying not to sound too bitchy. “Just thinking.”

“About what?”

Nikki rolled over to her side and rested a hand on her sister’s hip. Those deep brown eyes, with thick eyebrows, stared back at her. While it was tough leaving everything she worked so hard for behind, it felt nice seeing her family again. Living on campus made that hard. She and her sister Shay shared a uniquely close relationship. There were times when they would hold each other close—and weren’t shy about displaying physical affection. Other times they were at each other’s throats—and weren’t shy about displaying physical violence.

“About what I left behind,” Nikki said as she brushed aside her sister’s dark brown hair. “I enjoyed being on my own, meeting new people, partying, even classes. For years I worked toward my degree. Then…nothing.”

“I’d hardly call it nothing,” Shay scoffed. “You don’t like being here with us?”

“I do, but it’s just that I don’t know where to go from here. I’m not sure about the future.”

Shay moved her body closer until barely an inch of space remained between them. “Don’t worry so much about the future. Enjoy your time with us. I’m sure you can go back to college and finish your degree someday. For now, just enjoy this.”

Nikki gave her sister a peck on the cheek. Shay pulled her head down into a kiss. The elder sister wasn’t in the bayan sarisin escort bursa mood for affection. She collapsed back down on the bed. Shay shifted her body and rested her head on Nikki’s chest. The pair laid quietly, resting from the wild throes of life. They found solace in each other; as the entire family hopefully would.

— — —

Scene 02—The Mistles

The last box was brought in. A shiver of sorrow rolled down Jenni’s spine. This two-bedroom apartment was their new home. They left everything behind in the old house. Memories. Moments. Both the good and the bad. Eighteen years of her daughter’s life was spent there. Moving was hard to do, but after Jenni was discharged from the hospital they knew it was time to start a new life.

The luxury condominiums of Emma Goulet became a beacon of hope in their darkest hour. Only women are permitted to live in this community, which meant Tom wouldn’t be able to follow her anymore. In theory. Her fear remained and anxiety hadn’t subsided, yet. Would it ever? Did this place have a good security system? Were there guards patrolling to be sure men couldn’t enter the female utopia? Could they be sure Tom wouldn’t find her, hurt her, or worse?

Chelsea walked past her mother and dropped her last box on the floor. She looked back at Mommy, whose eyes were drooping from exhaustion. She felt cold, herself. Despite the layers of clothing in the unseasonably warm February weather, Chelsea felt chilled to the bone. No amount of external warmth could possibly penetrate the coldness of sorrow in her heart. The only sensation that reminded her she was still alive was the phantom burning in the left corner of her lips.

Daddy struck her. He hit Mommy often, usually following an all-night bender at Drake’s Drunkhouse. This time was different. This time was much worse. Chelsea woke up to the most horrific sounds, like a meat tenderizer pounding raw steak. A raging series of profanity. Heart-breaking cries pleading with Tom to stop. Chelsea knew Daddy was beating Mommy, but this seemed somehow crueler.

Chelsea loved Mommy; she loved Daddy when he was sober. That’s why when a feeling of dread overcame her, she jumped out of bed and hurried toward the sounds. Mommy wasn’t crying anymore. She wasn’t pleading for Tom to stop. And he wasn’t stopping. Chelsea put herself between her unconscious slumped-over mother and her crimson-faced rage-filled father. He stopped a moment, with his arm wound up and ready for another punch.

A warm wet feeling crept along the back of Chelsea’s foot as she faced the man. The feeling spread to her other foot, but she knew better than to take her eyes off this wild-eyed stranger. His arm fell to his side. Relieved, Chelsea sighed and looked down to see what had happened to her feet. A wide pool of blood, growing wider, seeped from Mommy’s face. So fixated on her mother’s spilt blood, was Chelsea, that she never saw the back of Daddy’s hand coming.

The Paramedics woke her up. Daddy hit her hard enough to knock her out. Or maybe the strike made her fall and hit her head. Regardless, she was rendered unconscious by the one man in her life that was meant to take care of her. How could Daddy do this?

When Chelsea was helped to her feet, she noticed the neighbors talking with police officers. Mrs. Feinstein and her daughter, Tanya, must’ve called the police. Chelsea wanted to thank them, but she couldn’t form a word at the moment. She was being carried toward an ambulance, where she saw Mommy being loaded inside on a stretcher.

Daddy was gone. The taste of blood, from her split lip, was all her father left her. She sat in the ambulance with her mother, whom looked even worse than she had on the kitchen floor. Her face was cracked and bloody. Her eyes both swollen shut. A bump or two, or three, spread along her head. Chelsea worried she might die. Mommy was all she had left. She couldn’t die.

The paramedic tending to Mommy had been affected by this call. She said no one deserved to be beaten like this, in their own home, by someone meant to love them. No one ever deserved this treatment. Rummaging through her mother’s purse, Chelsea found the letter from Emma Goulet, a woman she never met, inviting her to an all-female luxury condo complex.

“A safe place,” Jenni said, still standing in the threshold of the front door.

“It is, Mommy,” Chelsea smiled. “It’s a safe place for us.”

Jenni wrapped her arms around her daughter. Chelsea finally felt warm. Neither could’ve done it without the help and support of Jenni’s younger sister, Mandy. She was there at the hospital, after she heard the news. She comforted her niece as they waited to see what the doctors said. No permanent damage, although Jenni did suffer a concussion.

“What do you think Aunt Mandy is doing?”

“If I know my sister,” Jenni laughed, “she’s probably up to no good.”

— — —

Scene 03—Mandy Mistle

The plush red couch or bayan esmer escort bursa her and Travis’ bed? It was a tough decision, but she’d be here any moment and Mandy liked to be prepared. The final piece of preparation had been the setting. She took a nice hot bath with cherry blossom bath bombs, followed by a mild shower with cherry blossom body wash and strawberry shampoo and conditioner; which would’ve been cherry blossom if she hadn’t run out. When Mandy chose a scent profile, she was certain to stick with it, but not to an overwhelmingly strong degree. This afternoon, she would smell like cherry blossoms with an unintentional hint of strawberry.

After the shower, she dried herself on her boyfriend’s blue towels, which didn’t go with anything in the otherwise yellow bathroom. Seeing as she was expecting some company, Mandy slipped on her black g-string, which left little—if anything—to the imagination. A black bra. Nothing fancy there, as her bra would likely be the first piece of clothing removed. How to finish the sensuous black ensemble? Black lace stockings, ending just inches below her round bare bottom.

The couch, Mandy decided with a devilish grin. The couch would be daring, dangerous, Travis could walk in at any moment and catch them. Fun, exciting, and forbidden. Maybe he would join in. Her mind wandered to all the possibilities this could bring. All for nothing, since he would be working until eight tonight.

A knock at the door meant her guest had arrived. Mandy turned, her heart pounding, and grabbed the doorknob. She knew what she wanted. Her only hope was that her guest understood her intentions. Mandy let go of the handle and cinched the belt of her silk robe tightly, just in case her advances were not met in kind. Then again, who could resist her?

“Brooke, so glad you could make it,” Mandy said after opening the door.

“Thanks for inviting me over,” Brooke threw her arms around her host. “Is my brother here?”

“He’s at work for a few more hours,” Mandy replied as she closed the door behind her boyfriend’s buxom sister. “I hope you don’t mind spending some time with me. I get so lonely when he’s away.”

Brooke flicked her dark hair aside and smiled. Words never said it. Her eyes took in Mandy. The silk robe ended just above the middle of her legs, which were covered by sheer black stockings. From what she could tell, Mandy was wearing lingerie under that robe. Not something she would typically wear lounging around the house. No, she wore it for her, knowing she would be coming. Did Mandy have the same intentions?

“Uhn, it’s so hot in here,” Brooke grunted as she started to unzip her hooded sweatshirt.

“And it just got a lot hotter,” Mandy said as she grabbed her hand and led her to the couch.

Mandy couldn’t help but notice Brooke’s gray thigh-high socks and matching mini skirt. The way her white hoody was unzipped, she couldn’t help but notice the young lady’s ample cleavage; her desire to see those enormous breasts was partly the reason she invited the girl over. As Brooke leaned down to unzip her black faux suede ankle boots, Mandy noticed something else. She wasn’t only not wearing a top. That should’ve been obvious by the way her large breasts hung under the garment. Mandy noted she wasn’t wearing a bra either. It seemed the seductress wasn’t the only one with impure intentions. Their afternoon rendezvous was now a certainty.

“So, we’ll just hang out, maybe watch TV,” Mandy said as nonchalantly as possible, moving herself closer until she nearly sat on top of her busty guest. “You don’t mind if I undo my robe, do you? I think I tied this belt too tight, earlier.”

“It’s your apartment. Get comfortable.”

Her guest’s dark eyes watched as Mandy untied the knot she made and pushed the smooth garment aside, allowing it to slip down her shoulders. Whether this girl knew it or not, she’d have her face buried between Mandy’s legs in a matter of minutes. From her slim athletic figure to her tanned cherry blossom skin, Brooke wouldn’t be able to resist her. Judging by those eyes, she had no desire to resist.

“Oops,” Mandy said with faux innocence. “I didn’t mean to take it all the way off. If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll put my robe back on.” After saying this, Mandy quickly realized how lame it sounded.

“That’s fine,” Brooke replied.

Mandy turned to look into Brooke’s deep brown eyes. “What would you like to watch?”

Brooke bit her bottom lip, turned away, and shrugged her shoulders. Her heart was beating hard, no doubt.

“Or maybe there’s something you’d…like to eat?” Mandy emphasized the last three words to great effect. She watched Brooke shut her eyes a moment and shiver. Her hand moved instinctually to relieve the pressure building inside of her, but she stopped herself and placed the hand on her gray stocking instead.

“I’m not sure if I’m hungry,” Brooke replied, staring at a blank television screen.

At this point, Mandy began to get frustrated. The girl was dressed to kill, with a hoody covering nothing but her naked breasts—of which Mandy caught a few nice glances—and a short skirt that rode up enough to show her white panties occasionally. There was no way she came dressed like that without some obvious implications. Was she really going to try to play hard to get, now?

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