Lost and Found Chapter 2

(Author’s note: Please read Lost and Found first if you haven’t. This chapter is a continuation of that story. For new comers, if you can’t find Lost and Found in the home page, do click into my profile and you should be able to find it there. This part of the story doesn’t have many sex scenes. Most of the story is dedicated to the introduction of new characters and expansion of the old. Thank you)

I woke up in the morning to a chorus of laughter coming from the dining room. I sat up and immediately regretted my choice of sleeping on the couch. While the cushion was decent, the length of the couch was nowhere near sufficient enough to fit my large frame. My back ached like a bitch. When I tried to move, I was rewarded with an excruciating cramp on my left leg. I must have groaned because Charlotte came out from the dining room looking all worried. It only took her a second to realize what happened. She rushed to my side and raised my leg.

“Keep still.” She scolded lightly when I tried to stop her from helping.

“What’s wrong?” I heard my mom asking.

“It’s Brandon. He’s having a cramp.” Charlotte informed.

“Oh dear.” My mom uttered and came to my side. “Is it because of the couch?”

I would have said yes on any other time. But I knew better. I knew it had something to do with what I had done to Charlotte and Melissa. I must have stressed the muscle too much during the heated engagement and now I was paying the price.

“Yeah. It’s too short.” Charlotte affirmed without losing a beat. As if that was what it really was.

“I thought so.” My mom sighed. “You’re legs are too long. You should have slept in my bed.”

“Sorry.” I apologized, though I wasn’t sure what I was apologizing for. For getting a cramp and making her worry, or fucking her friends on my bed till the dead of night. And looking at things, my mom obviously had no idea what went on yesterday. After all, Charlotte was still here.

“You don’t have to apologize, dear. I’m proud of you for letting the women to sleep on your bed yesterday.” My mom smiled.

“Yes. Brandon is such a gentleman.” Charlotte added with a warm smile.

“What’s wrong?” Melissa came up from behind my mom and looked at me.

“Brandon’s having a cramp.” My mom informed with resignation, as if she was guilty for not being able to do anything else.

“Oh, crap. Was it because…” Melissa clamped her mouth shut with her own hand as her face began to flush. Charlotte looked at me and the worry in her eyes reflected mine.

“Yeah, it’s because he gave us the bed and slept on the couch.” Charlotte quickly interjected.

“Yeah. That. Right.” Melissa began to let out a nervous laugh. “Thank you for letting us sleep on your bed.” She said when she had calmed herself enough.

“No problem.” I said curtly. Before I could beat myself at the thought that I had just lied to my mom in front of her face, my mom had cheerfully told the three of us how proud and lucky she had such gentlemanly son. The three of us, who all knew better, kept our lips shut while smiling in agreement. I kind of felt bad for my mom, for not telling her the true nature of the cause of my cramp. But then again, I didn’t usually tell my mom about almost everything. Especially not this.

“Well, I’ll just leave Charlotte to take care of you.” My mom sighed and then turned back to the dining room. “Melissa, could you help me bring out the champagne.”

My mom retreated back to the dining room and Melissa followed behind. When the two disappeared into the corner, Charlotte twisted my ankle and my thigh twitched painfully. I winced and frowned at her. Instead of apologizing, the cheeky woman was smiling triumphantly.

“That’s for making me sore down there.” She said and my cock woke up from its flaccid slumber and began to harden at the memory of our moments in the bathroom. “And this is for making me feel like a woman again.” She cupped my face and then leaned in to kiss me on my lips.

She parted her lips and her tongue found mine. Our lips wrestled and our tongue danced as I inhaled her scent and tasted her mouth. My cramp by then had already become a distant past. We didn’t know how long we kissed, but we knew we needed to part soon. Charlotte was the one to break off the kiss. She let out a frustrated grunt when she did as if she hadn’t had enough of my lips.

“Thank you for last night.” Charlotte said with a lovely smile on her face. I could really get used to seeing that smile every morning.

“I don’t mind doing it again if you want.” I blurted out the words before my brain was able to stop it. God, even as I listened to the words, I felt like a horny piece of cock desperate to find a hole to jam into.

“I’m sure you do.” She gave me a conspiratorial smile and fleetingly look at my crotch. I didn’t need to look down to know what she saw. “But some other time. My vag is a little sore.”

“Okay.” I muttered, trying not to sound disappointed. I knew grown women hated men who only wanted sex from them and I didn’t want to give her an impression that I was one. Still, I would be lying if I said I didn’t want to fuck her again the way I did in the bathroom. Charlotte, despite my effort, seemed to see into my mind as she teasingly patted my cock.

“We could do it sometime this week.” She suggested with a naughty grin. The kind of grin on the face of girls at the cover of an adult magazine. The grin that said come fuck me.

“I won’t have to go back to college till next Sunday.” I said quickly.

“If you can come to my house, say, tomorrow, I think we can do something about this erection.” She rubbed her small hand along the thick hardened shaft. I squirmed on the couch with a need cum again. “I finish work at six and usually reach home at about seven. You can come by then.”

“Okay.” I nodded. I didn’t want to seem desperate and overly giddy so I kept my expression stoic.

“That’s it then. I will cook for us both.” She said and then headed for the dining room. Before she turned to the corner, she gave me a wink and then walked to the dining room to help out my mom.

The party soon started. Patrons, mostly divorced women and toddlers, began to fill up the tables. Cars began to clog the otherwise empty driveway and spilled out over to the curb. Soft classical music was playing in the background. Kids were running on the lawn chasing one another with hand pistol. Caterers were already setting up the table with trays after trays of delicious delicacies. Chorus of laughter occasionally punctuated the already chaotic cacophony.

My mom was busy ushering the ever growing number of guests to their seats. She had the usual DWCT baseball hat on her head and made sure every guest had one on theirs as well. Why little girls were given the same hat to wear was really beyond me. It was almost like a sick joke on itself. Like the girls were already the members of this circumstanced group, destined to spend their entire adult life as divorced moms. I wish mom would spare them the white-blue cotton hat and gave them something more appropriate to put on the head. You know, like party hat or glittery paper tiaras.

Melissa was busying herself with taking care of the kids. She followed everywhere the kids went to and cleaned up whatever mayhem the kids left in their wake. Discarded paper cups, broken plastic cutlery, crumpled tissue, Melissa had picked them all up without a fuzz. In fact, as I observed from afar, she almost looked like she’s enjoying it.

Charlotte was the director of operations. She basically single-handedly managed the crew of waiters and waitresses and delegated tasks from sending out food to refilling condiments with exceptional mastery. I hadn’t a shred of doubt that she was used to telling people what to do. There’s an air of authority surrounding the lean and curvy frame of the lawyer which made it seemed all the more amazing. I even saw the look of admiration on the crew’s eyes, as if they hadn’t been led with such efficiency before.

I, on the other hand, tried to be the least conspicuous wallflower possible. I had placed myself at an unremarkable spot on the lawn, standing there to deliver the necessary pleasantries should it come my way. It was also the least crowded spot, which had spared me a great deal of ‘you should take care of your mother’ and ‘don’t cheat on your future wife’ sentiments. I got it, ladies. You don’t have to remind me every freaking minute.

While men were assholes at times, I didn’t think all the divorces were the men’s fault. Some, yes. But certainly not all. Women could be assholes too. From their whinny complaints to their extensive choice of provoking vocabulary, even Gandhi would have had trouble keeping cool. With that said, I found a particular annoying woman among a group spewing out wretched gospel about how men are pigs and will never be enough for women. The fact that the other women surrounding her nodded their heads in agreement made me feel even more pissed off. God, this woman needed a therapist. From the things she said, it was amazing that her husband beat the crap out of her with a baseball bat or something.

“Hi, are you Halley’s son?” I heard a feminine voice coming from behind me. Halley was my mom’s name. When I turned around, I saw a tall lean woman with a head of black breast-length hair. She was wearing a long sleeveless black dress that accentuated the curves of her hips. She had an olive complexion that made her look athletic and wild. Her face had a hint of Eastern European features, sharp nose, high cheekbones, smoky eyes. I didn’t miss the fact that her irises were gray, which mean she’s of a Russian descent since most Russians had gray irises. There’s an air of command emanating from this woman and I could almost immediately feel the power dynamics between us. Obviously, I was on the lower end.

“Yeah. I am.” I smiled the usual ‘nice to meet you’ smile and held out a hand. She shook my hand with grace and confidence. “You are?” I asked.

“Nice to meet you, Brandon. I’m Paulina. I just moved into this neighborhood about a month ago.” She said and I detected a hint of Russian-accent in her words. Or it could be Ukrainian. “I heard there is a party going on today, so I thought I should drop by and see what the party is all about.”

“Well.” I gestured half-heartedly at the banner undulating in the light breeze hanging on the roof of one of the canopy. “It’s a party for divorced women.”

“Wow. It really is a party for divorced women. From where I came from, divorce is not something people would celebrate.” She let out a light chuckle.

“And where are you from, Paulina? If you don’t mind me asking.” I probed curiously.

“I’m from the UK. Before that, I was a Russian.” She laughed. “But I’m not a spy.” She remarked jokingly.

“It doesn’t matter, really. As long as you are divorced, you are welcomed here. The women here can be quite, as the English would put it, disagreeable if they know you aren’t divorced. Which brings me the next question, are you divorced?”

“Twice.”

“You are a member already then.” I quipped and we both laughed.

“Anyways, I wanted to meet your mother and the women over there,” she pointed at the group of women sitting around one of the tables, “told me that you will know where she is?”

“She’s probably in the house.” I recalled seeing my mom walking back into the house after the last DWCT hat had been dispensed. I would place my bet that’s she getting more out from the room by the kitchen she used to store the DWCT stuff. “You should be able to find her in the kitchen.”

“Well then. It’s a pleasure meeting you, Brandon.”

We gave each other another polite shake of hands before Paulina headed over to the house. As I watched Paulina’s retreating frame, my eyes casually ventured down along the length of her curvaceous body. She almost looked as good as Charlotte but a whole lot taller. She could certainly pass for a model and looking at the defined sway of her hips, she could very well be one.

After a while, Melissa came by with a bunch of children chasing behind her. She had her hair tied in a tight bun with a few stray strands of hair flowing down in front of her face. A sheen of sweat had formed on her forehead. She was having a blast with the children, whom she was playing catch with. I watched with amazement how much Melissa suddenly looked like a mother. I could really see her pregnant while holding another child in her arms. She cast me a bright grin as she approached me. Then, she went behind me and held me out like a shield against the horde of excited toddlers.

“Protect me, Brandon.” She pretended to be in distress and the children giggled at her apparent helplessness.

Feeling like playing along, I spread out my arms and made a growl. The children squealed and then scattered off in every direction.

“Those children certainly are a handful.” Melissa chuckled while heaving breathlessly.

“That’s children for you. They have a lot of energy.” I sighed, remembering the terrible incident where I was forced to entertain a group of four year olds by my mother on the first DWCT party. They had an unlimited capacity for fun and games. Something that even the fifteen year old me couldn’t cope with. Still, Melissa didn’t seem to be distressed by the children’s endless demand for excitement. She looked like she enjoyed it tremendously.

“As if you have the room to say that?” her lips curved into a mischievous smirk. “You really think I didn’t hear what you did to Charlotte last night?”

I felt heat rising on my cheek. “It was that loud huh?”

“God. Only your mom could sleep through that.” She rolled her eyes. “Sorry for the cramp though. And thank you.”

“Thank you?” I cocked an eye.

“For doing what you did last night. I don’t mean it in the ‘thank you for the meal’ kind of way. More like thank you for letting me experiencing life again.” She explained. Her face softened into a wry smile.