Big Tits

When Lucy asked her, “are you sitting down, Mom?” Ava immediately felt the temperature rise. Her cheeks were instantly hot and clammy. Hot flashes seemed to be her new response to any emotion. Miss a deadline? Hot flash. Husband prefers to sleep in the guest room? Hot flash. See your muffin top hang over your pants? That was crying followed by a hot flash. Ava hoped that her daughter was just being the overly dramatic teenage girl that she had a tendency to be instead of the harbinger of actual bad news.

“Now I am,” she mumbled in the phone as she collapsed into the dining room chair.

“Okay, I think I’m freaking out,” Lucy started but she often began conversations like that. “There’s a woman on Facebook who says she’s my sister.”

Oh god, it was so much worse than the muffin top.

Lucy continued, “I said no way because I’m an only child. But she’s adopted.” There was silence and Ava realized that her daughter deserved an explanation but even after twenty six years, she still wasn’t able to come up with one. “Mom?” Lucy prompted her, “that’s not true, is it?”

Ava felt the sweat drip down the back of her neck and trickle into her blouse. Great, she’d have to change before her meeting, that was if she could move from the chair. She felt frozen in place as the years peeled back to remind her of her first daughter; the secret daughter.

Had it really been that long and didn’t that make Ava old? She had wanted to tell Lucy a hundred times, maybe a thousand but Doug always said it was inappropriate. He had said that his daughter, emphasis on the “his”, shouldn’t have to hear about her mistakes. Her husband always made “mistakes” plural, as if she’d run slipshod through life until meeting Doug; as if he’d been the one to finally straighten her out. When he got all high and mighty like that, Ava couldn’t even look at him let alone talk to him.

“Mom?” Lucy waited, her pitch had already gone up a notch or two. In a moment, it would become an alarm.

“Yes honey,” Ava said calmly, as if this were nothing, a speed bump, something almost entirely expected. “It’s fine. What does she want?” Ava would have congratulated herself on artfully dodging the question if it didn’t include lying to her daughter, the one that she sometimes, in her head and never out loud, referred to as her “real” daughter.

Lucy sniffed and mumbled, “She wanted to talk to you. Maybe she’s just a scammer, Mom.” Lucy sounded hopeful, like something nefarious was a much better solution than the simple truth.

Her mother was a liar.

Actually her father was too but Doug would never take responsibility for his suggestion. Ava propped her damp forehead up with one hand and clicked a pen with the other. “Did she give you a phone number?” Ava asked. She refused to do anything like this on social media. She had signed a form that day in the hospital that said she wanted the records to be sealed. It was supposed to be private but she supposed nothing was really private anymore. If she started on her diatribe about these kids that revealed their deepest, darkest secrets to the whole world on the internet because they weren’t really old enough to have any deep, dark secrets, she’d never get this over with.

Lucy gave her the phone number and Ava thanked her and promised, “I’ll sort this out,” before she hung up. She’d managed to put it off again but that didn’t make her feel anything more than shame.

Once she’d pressed the red end call button, Ava took a deep breath and felt herself melt into the chair. What to do, her mind swam with the possibilities and the best idea so far was to open a bottle of wine and drink about half in spite of the fact that it wasn’t quite ten o’clock in the morning. Drunk before lunch wasn’t something that Ava Conley did. Ava Conley had a polite cocktail at lunch occasionally. Ava Conley would say it was European to do so. Ava Conley kept her drinking to wine and to the dinner hour and felt it was impolite to down more than a bottle by herself at any one time, usually.

She hadn’t been drunk early in the day since she was Ava Fleiss and back then day drinking hadn’t affected her at all because she’d been drunk in love.

Jeff Schultz, his name was similar to a magic word, like abracadabra. She thought that he’d finally stopped haunting her back when Lucy was about six years old. It was then that she’d stopped driving by his house and she secretly congratulated herself on the restraint that she’d shown. If she had been honest, it was only because her daughter had started to pay attention to directions and asked questions.

Doug had known that the breakup had been hard, that’s what Ava had told him. He hadn’t known, had never known, that depending on what day it was, Ava might say she was still in love with him.

After thirty minutes of staring at nothing, Ava called to cancel the meeting. She could hardly go like this, her blonde bangs stuck to her forehead with sweat. Even her mascara was ruined, bahis firmaları not from tears, from sweat. No, she hadn’t cried and Ava didn’t think she ever would. Not any more, she was empty.

Thirty minutes after that; on the second tumbler of wine she realized, no, that was wrong. Actually Ava was full. She was full to overflowing because she’d never really properly had the breakup conversation. He’d never sat across the table from her and looked down and held her hand with both of his own, afraid to let go because it might just be the last time.

It was the perfect time to call him.

Ava had only had to wait 26 years for the perfect excuse to hear his voice. It alarmed her how easy it was for her to dial his number after all this time, as if the memory were actually contained in her fingers rather than her mind. She should have known, Ava reminded herself as the phone rang, her body had never forgotten him.

“Hello?” he answered. Jeff answered with a question, as if her long lost love were incredulous that she’d finally called back, like he’d been waiting for it.

Jesus, what if he didn’t remember her? Ava could hardly breathe as she announced herself, “It’s Ava Conley. Is this Jeff?”

“Ava!” he sounded thrilled to hear her voice, “Conley?” he sounded as if he were trying to figure out what man had given his old lover his last name. “So little Ava Fleiss is all grown up? I don’t believe it.”

She snorted and then covered her face with her hand. Thank god they were only speaking on the phone. After all this time and the sexiest thing she can come up with is a snort? If he could only see her as she dripped, the wet stains on her blouse, the slickness around her muffin top. It wasn’t something that a young, terribly sexy Ava Fleiss would have done. “Believe it,” she spoke just above a whisper; not only was she all grown up but smack dab in the middle of menopause. “How are you?” Ava asked, she pictured the Jeff that she remembered. Perhaps he sat at his own dining room table.

All this time, he was just across town but a whole universe away.

“Great!” he responded and with a curled lip Ava thought to herself that he probably was. He had probably been great the whole fucking time. It had probably been water off a duck’s back for him. He’d just gone home that night and ate tuna casserole with his wife and kids and probably let out a sigh of relief about dodging that bullet.

While Ava had gone home and was still pregnant with her married lover’s baby.

Jeff chuckled and Ava swore it was still the same naughty, suggestive laugh that got her to do so many naked things with him a lifetime ago. “I bet I know why you’re calling,” he said in that voice that had paged through her secrets, like he was reading her diary. All wise, all powerful Jeff, the man who had found her clitoris one afternoon and Ava had been under his spell ever since.

“Do you?” Ava suddenly felt like a gullible twenty something once again. She had been just a girl who fell for the whole package, quickly. His dark hair was curly and thick in her fingers. His chocolate brown eyes were rich, expressive puddles that shimmered when he laughed. His dimples, fuck his dimples that she’d kissed so many times.

Ava felt undeniably warm again but this was the heat between her legs.

“Our daughter,” he said it like it wasn’t monumental. Almost like bastard children came crawling out of the woodwork all the time. Ava rolled her eyes, most likely she wasn’t the only secretary that Jeff had fucked. But he hadn’t just fucked her, had he? “Chelsea had DNA testing done and they also check your genealogy. I guess one of my sisters thought her father was really the mailman or something and here we are.”

Ava was late to the party but she’d always been two steps behind Jeff. “Her name is Chelsea?”

“Yeah, Chelsea Peters. Quite the looker I might add,” he dropped his voice, this was for her ears only and Ava wondered if he were home alone. “We make good looking kids.”

Ava opened her mouth but nothing came out. No words would form and she’d never been really good at communicating with him that way. They were much better at ripping each other’s clothes off. They had been remarkable at expressing themselves with fingers and moans and sighs and sweat. At some point, her body was covered in sweat, his and hers and she couldn’t get enough. It was sweat and cum and maybe even tears, it was their own wine and she loved smelling Jeff on her skin all night.

She’d smell it and masturbate to it

“Ava, you still there?” her lover asked in that same voice that he used to ask whether or not she was okay after an earth shattering orgasm.

“Sorry, yes, I’m here,” it was almost impossible to shake the scene from her mind.




Of course they had made good looking kids, they’d done everything well except actually be together in the real world. “So you’ve spoken to her?”

“We’ve talked kaçak iddaa twice, she’s a good kid,” Jeff announced, he gave his approval. “Honestly, I wasn’t that surprised. With all this technology they have nowadays. Fucking Google knows when I’ve been to the river boat casino so I guess this was just inevitable.” She remembered so much about him, even after all this time. Jeff was a degenerate gambler and always a bet or two away from losing the house in spite of his generous salary. The only thing he seemed to like more than getting Ava naked was shooting craps. He’d spent a whole afternoon teaching her and at first Ava had been afraid that the magic was gone. Then she had seen the gleam in his eye when she had thrown two sevens across the hotel room carpet.

He thought it was foreplay.

Ava hadn’t spent so much time sneaking around though. She generally didn’t worry what database was tracking her movements. “I had no idea,” she admitted glumly before she took a big swig of wine. Ava wiped her mouth with the back of her hand before she asked the million dollar question, “Does your wife know?”

What she really wanted to know was did he still have a wife? And if so, how many other times had he knocked up a secretary or a co-ed that he’d met serving drinks somewhere or had it just been Ava? Something inside her wanted to hear that she’d been the one, the only one and he’d been pining for her all along. Something about duty and bullshit about not doing that to the kids and all of the same reasons that Ava gave for marrying Doug who had always, could only be, second.

Jeff had absolutely no remorse. He answered in a voice that was completely cheerful, “yeah, Deb knows. I mean, you don’t know Deb but trust me when I say she’s always known.”

Trust him? Always known? Ava felt like she was choking on years of words that had built up. This wasn’t how she’d planned the big confrontation. Back when she used to fantasize about this conversation, she had wanted a lot more tears and begging on his part. She had wanted something more than this laissez faire, shoulder shrug to the biggest secret of their lives. “Oh,” was all she said. “Well, I guess I’ll call her then,” Ava trailed off. That was the second phone call that she was terrified to make.

“Text her first,” Jeff advised, “you know these kids hate actually answering the phone,” he chuckled. “So tell me, do you still wear those tiny, little skirts to the office? Jesus,” he groaned as if he were in dire need just talking about it. “You used to drive me crazy. Those short skirts, those legs, the way you would sashay around like you had no idea how hot you were.”

She hadn’t, Ava thought as she combed her hair back, out of her face. She’d never believed any of the cat calls or whistles or the men that would buy her drinks in bars. The only time she’d ever believed it was when she had stripped her clothes off for Jeff that first afternoon at the La Quinta Inn. That was when she’d felt beautiful and the fact that he was asking now, now when she had a spare tire and a dried out pussy and sweat rings in the armpits of her blouse, made her ache for what might have been.

Jeff, the bastard, how fucking dare he make her feel desirable, Ava thought with a roll of her eyes.

It would be so easy to get caught in his web. Just enough web to hang herself and then her whole life would come down around her like a house of cards. Ava always waited for the other shoe to drop and today seemed to be that day. All it had taken was a DNA test and she dangled off a precipice and drank before lunch. “I have to go,” she told him matter of factly. Ava was all business, downright crispy. “I can’t have this conversation with you.”

Jeff let out a belly laugh and part of Ava wanted to ask if he still looked like a young George Clooney. She also wanted to know if he still had the roadmap to her pussy and could do things with his fingertips on the backs of her knees and with his teeth on her neck that turned her into jelly? “Well, you’ve still got my number, Ava,” he said in the bedroom voice that still plucked at her most vivid fantasies.

There was nothing else to do but press the red button.

Thirty minutes later, Ava noticed that the bottle of wine was empty and that had opened up a couple of other options. One: open another one and drunk text the daughter that she’d never spoken to. Two: go upstairs and masturbate loudly, which she never got to do when Doug and Lucy were around. She’d get the lube out and her two favorite vibrators and maybe, just maybe she’d even have an orgasm or two, which hadn’t been the case in a long while.

The second choice was by far the best.

An hour later, Ava remembered while she was all naked and sticky on top of the teal down comforter, that her best orgasms had always been with her married lover, even when he wasn’t there.


Chelsea lived on the fourth floor, which meant eight flights of stairs. Ava blamed her breathlessness on the stairs kaçak bahis and how nervous she was. Her pulse fluttered far too quickly. Heels hadn’t been the best idea, she chided herself as she rounded the corner to the landing. Neither was parking her Mercedes on the street in this neighborhood, she thought. Chelsea had offered to come to her but Ava had turned her down.

Ava had made it sound as if she were coming to the Pilsen neighborhood loft out of consideration for her daughter but really, it was to shield herself. Since the conversation with Lucy, there’d been no mention of the woman on Facebook. Doug knew nothing. Ava was still a liar and she was oddly comfortable with that.

She made her way down the hall and scanned the doors for apartment E. The air was thick with the scent of strange food and other people’s feet. It was living in a walk up and mildew and all of the smells that mingle and congeal when everyone lived on top of each other. Ava had almost forgotten, she’d been in Wilmette for so long. She paused outside of the door marked E. There was a tapestry hanging on the door. It was dark blue and appeared to be the night sky, it was speckled with what looked like constellations and at the center of it all, there was a large eye set in the middle of a triangle that was set in the center of a circle. It felt very pagan but she shrugged. It stood to reason that Chelsea would be a little out there, it sounded as if she’d been raised by hippies. Kind, good-hearted hippies but hippies nonetheless. Ava sniffed before she knocked. She smelled marijuana smoke wafting up from under the crack between the door and the floor.

Maybe Chelsea was a little like her parents after all.

Her daughter threw the door open after Ava knocked quietly. The girl held her arms out eagerly for Ava. “Mom!” she exclaimed and grabbed Ava without hesitation. She pulled her into the warm pot smell and the earthy scent of her perfume, or maybe that was just oatmeal soap. With her fingers in Ava’s hair and her cheek was pressed against Ava’s cheek, she whispered, “I’m so happy that you came.”

Chelsea released her and Ava came up for air. She wasn’t really a hugger. Her family were much more the handshaking kind and she and Lucy had probably stopped any signs of physical affection once Ava had stopped tucking her in at night. Ava pushed her hair out of her face and smoothed it down. She had to make peace with the fact that Chelsea, although biologically hers, belonged to someone else entirely. Of course she was accustomed to different things. “I’m happy that you wanted me to come,” Ava replied as she took Chelsea in.

Chelsea was a little taller than Ava, maybe five seven, five eight. Her hair, which hung in wild, loose ringlets almost down to her ass, that was all Jeff. “Your hair is beautiful,” Ava said just above a whisper as she admired the free tendrils.

“You think?” Chelsea asked and shook it for Ava. “I grew it out after I had a mohawk for a while. I was kind of thinking about shaving my head again,” her daughter said with a giggle. “I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Come in, sit down,” Chelsea waved to her and headed toward one of the pink, furry bean bags that were near the window.

Ava watched her walk and realized that Chelsea had inherited the body that Ava had long ago. The body that she’d had before she’d gained almost eighty pounds with Chelsea. It was the body that had made Jeff weak in the knees.

Of course, she hadn’t appreciated that body back then, she’d always thought she was a little chunky. But, as she stared at Chelsea, she remembered that she had been pert and perfectly firm. Ava remembered her perfectly circular tits that bounced with every step with no underwire needed. There was that heart shaped little bottom that jiggled to the same tempo that the tits set. Legs and legs and legs, miles of legs, legs that started at her waist and went to the floor. They were soft and supple and it took Jeff an hour or two just to kiss from ankle to mound.

Yes, there were definitely some family resemblances.

“Thanks, here?” Ava asked politely as she pointed to the other bean bag. She set her handbag on the black, metal table between the two bean bags. Ava watched the smoke from the nugget of incense swirl and smolder in the dragon head that was her daughter’s incense carrier. There was the pipe that the pot was smoked in and underneath it all was the slightly sweet, slightly herbaceous scent of Chelsea. She permeated the room.

Chelsea nodded and bit her bottom lip. Her forehead wrinkled her forehead as she watched Ava bend down. “You aren’t really dressed to sit on the bean bag, sorry about that.”

“No, please, I had bean bag furniture in college too,” Ava took a seat and crossed her ankles. Yes, a skirt and heels today of all days were the dumbest idea ever. Who was she trying to impress? Chelsea already knew the worst thing about her.

Her daughter picked at one of the many holes in her tattered blue jeans. Her tee shirt was gray and splattered with blue paint but Ava could still read, “Feminist AF” blazoned across her brakes breasts. “So this is weird, right? Seeing me?” her daughter wanted to know.



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