A Mother-Daughter Twosome

"Ann Walker trudged wearily from the front office of the Bay
Construction Company, and turned down Market Street to begin the
four block walk to her car. San Francisco screamed around her in
the throes of its rush-hour convulsions, spewing people and cars
and dirt and noise out of its belly in frenzied, hysterical haste.
The sky was low with the smog that had settled in from the bay,
and a half-ridden sun broiled the sweating city mercilessly. It
was hot, noisy, cramped and stinking. It was Progress.
"Hey, get the hell out of the way!"
Ann Walker jerked her head up, and stepped quickly back up
onto the curb. An irate cab driver squealed around her, blasting
his horn at the same time, and staring at her as though she'd
insulted him personally by having delayed him the two-and-a-half
seconds she'd been standing in the gutter. Ann glared back at
him, angered by his anger, feeling the tension of the day suddenly
wash over her. Then she was pushed off the curb by the mass of
humanity pressed up behind her, as the traffic light turned green
and the mindless herd began to swarm across the intersection. She
stumbled, caught herself, and hurried ahead to keep up with the
flow. She finally reached the parking lot that held her car, and
waited while the attendant tried courageously to find her small
Ford Falcon in the endless sea of parked automobiles. She slumped
down onto a bench, and tried to close her mind to the maddening
frenzy that possesses a city between 4:30 and 6:00.
Ann was 36 years old, and had lived in San Francisco for the
last two years. But she could never adjust herself to the city's
rush, the tension, the nerve-wracking tempo that others seemed to
take for granted. She was a beautiful woman, with dark brown hair
which lay in soft curls on her shoulders, and an almost naive
face, which was betrayed only by a pair of intense, almost
smoldering eyes. She affected a somewhat cool manner, and often
gave others the impression of aloofness, and perhaps even conceit;
but this was only a defense, a rein that held her frustrations in
check. It was only in her eyes that one could perceive the fire
that burned inside her, could even guess at the wild animal that
lay imperfectly concealed behind that cool exterior. It was this
combination of aloofness and yet the hint of some insatiable
desire that served to make her irresistibly magnetic to men, who
flocked to her like flies to honey. And the more they flocked,
the more aloof she became, her defenses barely able to hold in
check the intensity of her inner passions.
Ann's car finally came sputtering out of the parking lot,
adding more than its share to the poison in the air around her.
She quickly paid the attendant, and slid her slender body behind
the wheel. She eased out of the parking lot's driveway, and began
to make her slow, agonizing way out of the city. This was the
part of the day she hated most. Even the morning rush hour was
not this bad, because then she was fresh, still untouched by the
day's trials and tribulations. But now, after a day's frustrating
monotony ...
Ann blasted her horn at a Lincoln Continental which was
trying to force its way into her line of traffic. She eased the
accelerator toward the floor, cutting him off and forcing him to
brake with a jerk. He glared at her, she glared at him, and the
traffic slowed around them like a river flowing around song unseen
obstruction. Then Ann scooted ahead of the Lincoln, victor in
this round of her fight to escape the city, and made her way
toward the Bayshore Freeway, southbound.
She lived in a tiny two-bedroom apartment in South San
Francisco, which had no advantages except that it was relatively
inexpensive. But that was enough. Her job as secretary for the
Bay Construction Company certainly didn't pay very well, and to
think of moving into something closer to her work and therefore
more expensive, was out of the question. Ann tolerated her work,
but didn't enjoy it. Still, it was something, and the best she
could find with her work record. She had moved all around the
country in the last 18 years, seldom staying in one place more
than a few years, usually staying far less. The cities she had
lived in were so numerous that she often lost track of them, and
her past was filled with certain periods of time she couldn't even
account for. But she didn't think about that often: to her, one
city was like another, one job was like another, and except for
periodic changes in setting, her life followed the same pattern
with frustrating sameness.
It hadn't always been that way. In high school Ann had been
quite a participant in the school's social scene. She had been a
cheerleader, class vice-president, homecoming queen, all of the
things that typify a young girl's high school success story. Boys
had swarmed around her, inviting her out, walking her to classes,
begging for some of the attention she gave to those she liked.
But, that had all changed, abruptly, her senior year ... had
changed with a finality that still drove her from place to place
in an unending attempt to escape its irrevocable consequences.
The lovely secretary tried to force her mind onto some other
subject, but it returned every time to the pain of that last year
in school. She hadn't really even known Tom well. She had only
accepted his offer of a date in order to attend a last minute
beach party with some friends, and had not even found him that
attractive. Tom had been very attentive, and Ann had had much too
much wine to drink, and before sloe knew it she was wrestling with
him on the beach, separated from the others, at first resisting
and then, aroused beyond endurance by his sexual foreplay, finally
accepting his body with an abandon that took Tom completely by
Ann passed a trembling hand across her soft brown eyes, and
tried to focus on the traffic. But the cars ahead of her slowed
until they came to a complete stop, and while she waited for the
metal river to start flowing again, she tried to remember what it
had been like, that first time.
She remembered a great deal of pain, her shame once it was
all over, and her agonized waiting until her period came, but
little more. And when her period hadn't come, she'd waited
longer, praying that it was just delayed, her fears of pregnancy
immobilizing her completely, until finally she was simply spending
the entire day in bed at home. Finally, her mother had forced her
to go to the doctor, thinking she might be seriously ill, but
having no idea of the nature of her illness. The doctor easily
drew the truth from her, and when his tests were completed, her
terrible fears were proven true.
Ann felt a shiver run through her curvaceous body, still able
to feel the effect that awful news had had upon her so many years
ago. The doctor had told her mother immediately, and her mother,
despite Ann's protestation, had insisted that the boy marry her.
Ann hadn't wanted that, simply because she hadn't known Tom very
well, but Mrs. Walker had insisted, and there followed a traumatic
four months while Tom and his family were convinced, arrangements
were made, and Ann herself grew steadily larger with the life
inside her. They were married in her fourth month, and it seemed
for a while that things would be all right. But then, even before
the baby was born, they began to quarrel, she perhaps made more
edgy by her pregnancy, and he unable to give her the patience and
understanding she desired. They had even come to blows on one
occasion, Tom knocking her down at the height of one of their
arguments. But then he had apologized profusely, as he always
did, and promised that it would never happen again. But, of
course, it did, with increasing frequency.
And then the baby had been born, and it had seemed again that
they might be able to function as a unity and live together, this
time through the mediating influence of their daughter. But it
was soon apparent that even little Lani could not act as a bridge
to cross that chasm which lay between the two of them. For eight
tempestuous months after her birth, they had made life miserable
for one another, until finally Ann had discovered that Tom was
having an affair with a woman in the same apartment building, and
she'd decided to leave him. It hadn't surprised her that he was
having an affair, because she hadn't slept with him for months,
and yet that affair gave her the excuse she needed to rationalize
in her own conscience the step she was taking.
The divorce proceedings had been short, and unprotected. Tom
had been just as willing Ann to break off their obvious mismatch.
She had been awarded a small alimony, but most important of all
for her, she had been awarded custody of her child, Lani.
The insistent blaring of a horn gradually broke through the
curtain of Ann's memories, and she looked up to see that traffic
had again begun to move on the Bayshore. She quickly moved ahead,
and gradually picked up speed until she was going a relatively
brisk 45 miles per hour. Her mind was somewhat at ease now,
pacified by the turn her thoughts had taken in the direction of
her daughter.
Ann smiled again. Lani had been such a beautiful baby, had
hardly ever cried, had walked before she was 18 months, and was
talking by the time she was 2/ old. She was Ann's one joy in
life, and had become gradually over the years her only real reason
for living. After the trauma of her marriage, Lani had formed the
cornerstone of her sanity, and for a year after her divorce, the
two of them had constituted a self-sufficient entity, with little
or no contact with the outside world. Without that time with her
child alone, to recuperate from the wounds which her marriage had
left upon her, Ann might very well have broken down completely.
But while Lani had been able to salve those wounds with the
simple fact of her presence, she had not been able to heal the
scars they left on Ann's personality, and on her sexual being in
particular. Anything that remotely reminded the young mother of
the traumatic experience she had been through with her immature
husband was avoided, shoved into the far recesses of her mind to
lie hidden behind an almost neurotic wall of repression. She had
been hurt irreparably, and she had subconsciously placed the blame
for all her troubles on the sexual side of her nature. She feared
any kind of intimate involvement, and rejected coolly all advances
made by the scores of men drawn irresistibly to her, with the
result that, as the years passed, her sexual frustration
increased. And as it increased, her fear of her own sexuality
increased as well, and she expended more and more energy to keep
that sexuality hidden, disarmed, incapable of leading her into
relationships that might prove painful or destructive.
And so she moved from place to place, thinking she was
avoiding entanglements that would divert her attention from her
young daughter, but in reality simply trying to escape the
undeniable pressures exerted on her by her own seething
sensuality. She had begun by moving around the east coast, From
Delaware to South Carolina, and then her fears had driven her
west. Each time she would move into a city, find a dull and
usually poorly paying job, and try to settle with Lani into some
kind of routine that resembled stability. She knew,
instinctively, that her daughter needed that stability, and that
she herself needed it as well. She would slowly make a few
friends, and begin to come out of her shell slightly, and then she
would find herself being drawn to one of the many men who pursued
her with stubborn persistence.
At first those men would seem content with a purely platonic
relationship, and Ann would perceptibly bloom on the release of
having someone to talk to, someone with whom she could break
through the icy walls of her self-imposed aloofness. But then,
inevitably she would find that those men began to make demands on
her, sexual demands, demands that showed either an unwillingness
or an inability to understand her reluctance to become intimately
involved. And then would come the inevitable conversations that
stretched painfully into the middle of the night, and then the
arguments, and then the final break. Sometimes the break was
clean, and Ann would be able to stay where she was, though more
confused and frustrated than before. But at other times, the men
in her life would not give up. They would be able to sense the
restrained desire, the hidden but burning sexuality that twisted
the young woman with its force, and would try to help her bring it
out into the open, to deal with it, to come to terms with herself.
And it was then that Ann fled, terrified, not only from their
offers of help, but from herself as well.
The tired young woman left the freeway, and began to make her
way up the small streets to her apartment. The houses all passed
by her with a hypnotic sameness, colored in nauseous shades of
dirty pastels, squeezed together as though trying to impress the
curious observer of their solidarity with one another. But there
were no curious observers In South San Francisco, and their
solidarity had long since atrophied into mere congestion.
Turning into her parking space, the beautiful secretary cut
the motor and wearily eased her voluptuous body from behind the
steering wheel. She didn't bother to lock the car, but made her
way toward the common entrance she shared with the 8 other
apartments in her building, fill cramped cubicles exactly like her
own. She stopped by her mail box hopefully, but it offered her
nothing more than an old circular she'd never bothered to remove.
She sighed, and turned to the stairs leading to her apartment.
"Well, Mrs. WaIker, nothing again today?"
Ann stopped but didn't turn around. If there was one thing
she didn't want to do now it was talk to Mrs. Pinchley, perhaps
the most unpleasant neighbor she had ever been unfortunate enough
to have.
"No, Mrs. Pinchley, nothing again today."
Without turning to confront the prunish old lady, Ann again
started for the stairs. She didn't reach them, however, nor did
she really expect to.
"Well that's a shame," came the irritating voice from behind
her, "but you know it's just what I was saying to you the other
day, Mrs. Walker, about young people today. They just don't seem
to have any consideration, any common courtesy even. Why, I
remember when I was young, I used to write my family at least
twice a week! Sometimes three times! If I were you, Mrs. Walker,
I'd give that child of yours a talking to. Now l don't want to
butt in, of course ..."
Then don't, you decrepit old bitch, Ann thought to herself
Impatiently, wanting only t o get upstairs and pour a relaxing
drink for herself.
"... but it seems to me that that daughter of yours has no
respect for her elders. That's what it is. And those friends of
hers, those hippie people, why I don't believe they've taken a
bath in months, Mrs. Walker, and that's a fact! And now she's
gone to live up there on that hippie commune! Well, deary, I know
you must be sick with worry, and without any letters from her at
all ..."
Ann turned to the babbling old woman abruptly, and glared
down on her.
"Mrs. Pinchly, I am not sick with worry, I do get letters
from my daughter, and I'll thank you to keep your ..."
"Yes, Mrs. Walker, but how many letters?" the old hen
cackled, "two in the last three months! Why when I was young, I
used to write my family at least twice a week! Sometimes three
"Mrs. Pinchley," Ann said harshly, her patience at an end,
"I'm sure you did. In fact, I'm constantly amazed that you can
find anything more to talk about."
Ann turned on her heel and walked quickly up the stairs,
leaving the old woman open-mouthed in the hallway below. She
unlocked the door to her apartment, and went inside, closing it
behind her. Goddamned old gossip, she thought to herself, and
moved to her small, meagerly supplied bar. She poured herself a
drink, and took a long swallow, letting it wash the tension out of
her with its soothing warmth.
She turned to the small air conditioner that made life just
bearable during the summer, switched it on, and moved across the
room to the hallway leading to the kitchen. She walked slowly
along the hall, stopped in front of the second door, opened it
quietly, and stood leaning against the door jamb, looking into the
room sadly.
But Mrs. Pinchley is right, Ann admitted to herself, I am
sick with worry. If Lani would only write, and tell me what's
happening ...
The upset young mother stood looking into her daughter's room
for a few moments, at the high school pennants and the stuffed
animals spread across the brightly colored bedspread, and then
closed the door softly. She made her way through the hall to the
kitchen, opened the refrigerator, and took out some ice to cool
her drink. Then she sat slowly at the kitchen table? lowered her
face into her hands, and began, very quietly to cry.
It had all started with her latest move to California, two
years before. Lani had been in her last year of high school, and
had begun to show signs of restlessness, of dissatisfaction, not
with her mother, but with things in general. She had begun
running with a strange crowd, long-haired, strangely clothed, and
rebellious. Ann had been careful not to criticize, knowing that
her opposition would only serve to make her daughter more
committed to the group of people she had chosen as friends.
Throughout that year, Lani's relationship with her mother had
remained the same understanding, warm bond that it had always
been, and there had been no ruptures in their deep-seated love for
one another.
And yet, not long after Lani had begun to run with this
crowd, she started talking about leaving home, and making her own
way in the world. Again, Ann had talked this over with her
rationally, and unemotionally, even though the very thought of
life without Lani caused her unbearable pain. And then, one day,
it had happened. Lani had told her mother that some of her
friends had decided to join a commune in Mendocino, and that she
had decided to go with them. Ann tried desperately to dissuade
her, arguing that she hadn't yet finished school, that she wasn't
ready to take this great step yet, that she knew nothing about the
commune or the people in it. But Lani would not be dissuaded, and
Ann knew that it was useless to try to forbid her strong-willed
young daughter. Again the mother decided to preserve at all costs
the warm, loving relationship that existed between the two of
them, and after warning Lani of the dangers, and making sure her
daughter knew that her bedroom would always be waiting for her if
she should want to come back, Ann gave her unwilling consent to
Lani's plan.
The air conditioner was just beginning to make its presence
felt in the small apartment. Ann raised her head from the cradle
of her hands, stretching her long slim legs sensuously under the
table, and spreading her finely rounded thighs slightly apart,
letting the air circulate some of the heat and dampness from
between them. She stared fixedly at the wall opposite her,
completely absorbed in her thoughts of her daughter. A slight
frown creased her beautiful face as she remembered the one time
Lani had come home on a visit from the commune. She had brought a
whole group of friends with her, both boys and girls, and they had
all slept on the floor in the same room, in bleeping bags and
There had been almost 10 of them, all long-haired, freely
looking types, with a vacant and yet somehow preoccupied look
about them. Lani had been wonderful, but Ann felt her attention
often preempted by her friends and so they had not really had much
of a chance to talk. Ann sensed that her daughter was not
completely happy with the choice she had made, that there was
something in the back of her mind that allowed just a trace of
doubt to gnaw quietly but persistently at her. But there had not
been time during that short visit for the two of them to sit down
and evaluate Lani's experiences, and before Ann could decide just
what the source of Lani's doubt was, she had gone away again, back
to Mendocino and the commune, in the company of her motley and
disheveled crew of friends.
Ann raised her body wearily from the table and walked to the
small living room, passing by her absent daughter's room this time
without stopping. She walked over to the small sofa and lay down,
closing her eyes with a sigh, trying to rid her mind of the
anxiety that was beginning to close ins on it with undeniable
persistency Her voluptuously formed body lay tensed on the sofa,
her head propped up on an old and faded cushion. It had been
almost five months since Lani's visit, and since that time Ann's
home life had been a torture. She was beginning to drink too
much, and spent her evenings wandering from one place in the house
to another, absently, as though she were searching for something
without any idea of what it might be. Perhaps she had devoted
herself too much to her beautiful child, perhaps her life had
revolved around Lani's too completely, but she knew it was useless
to speculate about that kind of thing. The fact was that she did
[eel lost without her daughter, was drifting rudderless through
the maddening calm of her everyday, humdrum life.
The late afternoon sun forced its way through the dirty panes
of her apartment windows, warming sofa where she lay with lazy,
hot insistence. Ann must have dozed off, because when she opened
her eyes the apartment had grown dim with evening's half-light,
and the clock on her mantle said 7 :30. Automatically, she got up
to fix herself some dinner, and then stopped herself. She wasn't
hungry. She sat again on the sofa, and let her drowsiness seep
out of her slowly, leaving her somewhat rested and momentarily
I dreamed something, she asked herself, what was it? She let
her mind ease back to a few moments before, and then a slight
smile fitted briefly across her beautifully sculpted face. Of
course ... Lani. I dreamed I went to visit her, and I held her
quietly in my arms on a grassy hillside and the sun Was very hot
on our faces, and there was nobody in the world but the two of us
Ann leaned back against the sofa, a look of concern on her
face. She tried to imagine what Lani's reaction would be, if she
were to show up unannounced in Mendocino, at the commune. She
thought Lani would be happy to see her, but she didn't know for
sure. Abruptly, the young woman stood up once again, and wandered
acres to the window nervously. It was Friday, and she had nothing
but another empty weekend to look forward to, 48 hours to spend in
idleness, with no housekeeping, no social life, and no family to
keep busy with. She looked out on the rows and rows of dirty
pastel houses, stretching down the hill toward the bay, and
pictured happy families, mothers and daughters, looking forward to
their two day vacation with anticipation and excitement. She
stared out the window, her firm, high-set breasts beginning to
heave with frustration, then quickly pulled the curtains and
started anxiously toward the kitchen, trying to rid herself of the
pain that was beginning to invade her tantalizing body. She
stopped unwillingly in the hallway again, opposite Lani's bedroom
door, and stood staring at it, through it, but not opening it.
And then, suddenly her mind eased, and the pain flowed out of her
chest, and her anxiety ridden body stopped its quivering. It was
as though an enormous burden had been inexplicably lifted from her
shoulders, as though an important decision had just been made for
Why not? What was Me afraid of? She would go to Mendocino!
She would talk to Lani, and try to discover if she was really
happy. She did not admit it to herself, but she knew she would
try to convince Lani to come back to South San Francisco with her,
to take up their life again just as it had been before. And even
if she didn't come, what better way was Mere to spend a weekend
but with her lovely young daughter, just the two of them?
A great smile radiated across the voluptuous secretary's
beautiful face, turning what had been anxiety into excitement.
She would go first thing in the morning, it would only take a few
hours to drive to Mendocino, and then she would see her precious
child again. She fumed happily towards the kitchen, suddenly
hungry now, and then stopped.
To hell with dinner, she thought to herself enthusiastically,
I've got to figure out what to wear! She rushed into her bedroom,
alive and happy for the first time in many, many months, and
almost danced over to her closet. Her mind was already soaring
far beyond South San Francisco, far beyond the small confines of
her too small apartment. She was already in Mendocino, in the
hot, hot sun, lying on a grassy hillside and holding her innocent
young daughter in the gentle embrace of her loving arms. Her
daughter? Her life!!!!

Chapter 2

"Bob, you just don't understand," Lani Walker was saying,
"your home life was so screwed up, you just can't see what I'm
talking about. I love my mother ... we've got a really beautiful
thing between us, you know?"
Lani lay on her back, her eyes searching the cloudless
California sky, her bare toes playing little games with the golden
brown grass that covered the hills of Mendocino.
"I mean, my mother doesn't have all the hangups about her kid
that your parents have. She treats me like an adult, so there
isn't any need for me to rebel against her. I mean I didn't run
away from her like you did from your parents. There wasn't any
need to."
"Look, kiddo, I didn't run away from my parents. I just
left, see? And anyway, I think you're just kidding yourself,
because your mother just isn't as understanding as she pretends."
"Bob, that's not true ..."
"Yes it is true, baby, I know it's true ... When we were all
down at your mother's place, she was hanging all over you, man,
like you were some kind of teddy bear or something ..."
"Come on, Bob, that's not fair! Just because you can't
visualize any kind of love between parents or children doesn't
mean it doesn't exist, right? I mean ..."
"All right! Let's just forget about it, O.K.? It's Saturday
afternoon, and the sun is shining ... let's talk about something
else for Christ's sake! The whole thing is so fucking sentimental
I think I'm going to cry."
Lani looked over at him as he turned away on his side, and
then she sat up abruptly, and looked away. Her long blonde hair
was tangled with strands of grass, and her eyes were moist with a
few tentative tears caused by the lack of understanding on her
boyfriend's part. Her face was almost an exact replica of her
mother's, with the same soft brown eyes and delicately formed
features, but lacking the coolness, the distance her mother had
cultivated after so many years of frustration. Lani was young,
but already had a figure that surpassed even her mother's, with
large rounded breasts and gently flaring hips, and soft smooth
thighs that were tanned a delicious golden brown by the hot
California sun. Her slender arms reached out around her shapely
legs, and clasped together tightly around her knees, which were
trembling slightly now with emotion. She glanced over at Bob, and
tried to decide why he was sometimes so harsh with her. She knew
he had had a rough life, but still ... sometimes it was as though
he didn't have any feeling for her at all.
She quickly turned her thoughts away from this unpleasant
thought, deciding that it was absurd to even suspect that Bob
didn't love her. After all, wasn't he one of the main reasons she
had come to the commune in the first place? She looked away,
across the lush green hills covered sparsely by single standing
oaks in irregular patterns, and her mind wandered aimlessly
through visions of her past, her school, old friends, her mother
"Look, kiddo, I'm sorry."
Lani's memories were invaded by Bob's deep masculine voice.
She didn't turn to him immediately.
"Oh, that's all right Bob. I guess I get carried away
sometimes when I think about Mom. It's my fault really."
"No, I shouldn't have yelled at you. It's my fault. But,
like I don't understand one thing, kiddo."
She turned to him questioningly.
"... I mean, if everything was so fine back in San Francisco,
why did you come up here? Christ, you could have stayed there in
your Momma's lovin' arms!"
Lani looked at him in surprise, but saw he was serious.
She'd come for him, of course!
"Oh, I don't know. I guess I just had to settle down in a
place of my own, you know? I mean, ever since I remember, Mom and
I have been either moving in or moving out of crummy little two
bedroom apartments. I can't even remember how many. And, I never
went to the same school more than a year and a half ... Oh, I
don't mean it was all that bed! All I'm saying is ... well ... I
just had to find something a little more stable, you know?"
Bob leaned over to her, and drew her supple young body over
to him roughly, pressing her up against him.
"Yeah, I know kiddo ... something stable like me, huh?"
Lani winced a little from the unexpected roughness, and then
eased herself into the curve of his huge, muscular frame. She
snuggled up like an infant against his massive chest, and worked
her face up against the rough stubble of his week-old bear,
sighing with pleasure. She felt the crotch of his jeans begin to
bulge as his hidden cock quickly grew excited by her tantalizing
closeness, and laughingly reached down to touch its fabric-covered
hugeness with her small tanned hand.
"Mmmm ... well, I guess you're pretty stable, all right ..."
With a throaty growl, Bob threw her over onto her back, and
pressed her breasts back against her small frame with his powerful
body He reached under her skimpy body shirt and ran one hand
teasingly up over one soft unencumbered nipple, raising it to an
instant hardness.
"Want to see just how stable, kiddo?" he asked laughingly.
Lani moaned with the pleasure elicited by his expert
manipulations of her breasts, and answered only by reaching down
seductively to slowly unbutton the top button of his straining
blue jeans.

* * *

Ann Walker eased her Ford Falcon to the side of the small one
lane road, and pulled out the map the man at the local postoffice
had given her. Farm Road 1789. This must be it, she thought,
looking up for confirmation at the billboard on her right. Past
the Quaker State sign and turn right. She set the map down on the
seat beside her, and eased the car into gear.
She hadn't started as early that morning as she'd wanted. As
soon as she'd woke up, she'd thought of a million things she could
spend that Saturday doing, errands she'd put off for months,
letters she'd never planned to write ... but then her mind had
stopped rushing around desperately trying to think up excuses for
not coming, and she'd realized she was just being silly.
She was still nervous, though, even after her long drive---
nervous about how Lani would receive her surprise visit, uncertain
whether she might be intruding She was almost convinced that Lani
would be overjoyed to see her, but not quite. She hoped that the
single fact of her presence would not put any kind of pressure on
her daughter, making her feel as though she had to choose between
her mother and the commune. The reason Ann felt this way, of
course, was that unconsciously she hoped Lani would make that
choice, and would return to South San Francisco with her.
She drove back onto the road, and turned right onto Farm Road

From grobert@soho.ios.com Wed Mar 12 07:48:11 1997
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories
Subject: MothDaug 2/8 "A Mother-Daughter Twosome"
From: grobert@soho.ios.com (TheEditor)
Date: Wed, 12 Mar 1997 04:48:11 -0800
1789. She drove up a long hill with the sun at her back, and
continued on until the paved road turned into gravel, and the
gravel finally gave way to a rutted, sun-baked dirt that
threatened to wrench her old car's shock absorbers from the
chassis. Bravely, she went on, and finally came to an old broken
down fence stretched haphazardly across the road with a carefully
painted sign hung beside it, the words "The Zodiac" emblazoned on
the sign in red letters.
Well, this is it, she thought to herself nervously, and
looked with apprehension at the dry hillsides around her, broke
only by the line of rusted barbed wire that stretched out from the
gate until it disappeared behind the curve of the hill. The
isolation and apparent desolation of the place disturbed her, and
she wondered how Lani could enjoy being so cut off from
civilization. She got out of the car, and opened the old gate,
which creaked in the hot stillness of the afternoon, eerily, like
an invitation to enter another world. Getting back in her car,
she drove through, stopped, got out once again, and closed the
gate behind her. You're here, the gate creaked at her once again,
and she hurriedly got back into her car and drove on.
After a mile or so, she came suddenly into a clearing,
surrounded by homemade wooden cabins peaking out into it from
under the protection of a grove of huge oak trees. The houses
were all fairly small, except for one building that stood out from
the others and had a long front porch built out from it, covered
by a shingled roof. There didn't seem to be many people about,
though Ann did see a couple of naked children playing around one
of the houses in a carefree game of kick-the-can, and two woman
dressed in calico sitting in the shade of a large tree, mending
what looked like handmade shirts. She drove up to the main
building, which she took to be some kind of meeting hall, and
stopped her car in front.
As she slid her slender body from behind the wheel, she saw a
man walk out on the porch in front of her, and gaze down at her
with curiosity. His eyes peered out from behind a massive,
tangled growth of beard and hair, that practically hid his face
from view. His hands rested lazily in the pockets of his faded,
patched coveralls.
"Good afternoon," Ann ventured timorously. "My name is Ann
Ann could feel the bearded man's eyes taking her in, and
suddenly she felt very out of place in this almost 19th century
community, dressed as she was in her modern, brightly colored,
light summer dress. She waited for the man to give some response
to her introduction, but he simply continued staring at her,
"My daughter lives here in this ... place," Ann continued
bravely. "Her name is Lani Walker."
The silent man descended the stairs slowly, and walked over
to where Ann was standing. Her nervousness grew as he approached
her, but then he stuck out his hand and smiled.
"Of course ... Lani. I'm afraid we don't know very many last
names around here. How do you do?"
Ann shook his hand gratefully, suddenly put completely at
ease by the graciousness and ease of his manner.
"I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. ...?"
The man smiled again, quietly, and put his hands back into
his pockets.
"... Moses," he said simply.
"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Mr. Moses."
Ann was surprised to hear him laugh out loud, and then
questioned him with a smile.
"I'm sorry, I don't mean to laugh," the man beamed at her,
"but I'm afraid I'm not a mister. My name is just Moses. And
while you're here in the Village, I hope you don't mind if we call
you Ann."
Ann returned his laugh, comfortable somehow with this
seemingly gentle man.
"Oh, I'm sorry ... Moses then. And I'd love you to call me
"Well that's fine. Good. Now I suppose you're looking for
"Yes, I am," Ann answered, "can you tell me where I might
find her?"
"The last I saw her she was walking up toward the Chapel."
"The Chapel?" Ann echoed.
"Oh, sorry, that's what we call the hillside where we
sometimes meditate and have group ... gatherings," Moses said with
a sly smile. "For us, it's a kind of church, so ..."
"I think that's lovely," Ann laughed, "that Chapel! That's
wonderful! Could you tell me how to get there? You see, I'm very
anxious to see my daughter."
"Well, she's with Bob right now ..."
"Oh, is that a friend of hers?" Ann asked hesitantly.
The man looked at her with a strange expression playing about
his eyes.
"We're all friends here, Ann. You'll soon find that out."
"Of course, I forgot," she laughed. "After all, isn't that
what a commune's for?"
"You're very right, Ann, that is exactly what a commune is
for." The same strange smile formed on his lips, making Ann
vaguely uneasy somehow, but she quickly dismissed it.
They chatted for a few moments more, and then Ann asked again
how she could get to the Chapel. Moses indicated a path rising
steeply from the Village, as he had told her the area where they
were now standing was called, and said that it came out right
above the Chapel. Ann thanked him and turned to make her way
across the clearing.
"Oh Ann?" he called after her.
"Yes?" she answered, turning back toward him.
"You're welcome to stay and share our dinner with us."
"That would be lovely," she called to him. "In fact, I was
hoping to stay the whole weekend. Would that be all right?"
"That would be fine! We'd love to have you. And you'll
enjoy it."
"You know," she said smiling, "I think I will, Moses."
He watched as she waved happily to him, and turned to climb
the steep path. His eyes devoured her perfectly formed hips as
they swung sensuously, enticingly from side to side.
"I know you will, Ann," he whispered under his breath, an
almost leering grin twisting his face under his huge beard, "I
know you will!"

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