Skipper Licked Me, Daddy 3

Skipper Licked Me, Daddy 3

I measured off a 10-foot log with my 10-foot pole, then began sawing. The chain saw made light work of the 30-inch log. I delimbed my way up the tree, surveyed the next length of log and decided I could get a straight 14 footer out of it, without losing much width. I changed to the longer pole and cut the last log of the day. As the sound of the chainsaw died, I looked around the small clearing. It was churned up mud and struggling grass. The mud was from my tractor, which I used for skidding the logs into piles. That wouldn’t matter soon, because there would soon be houses growing here. The topsoil would be hauled away and sand put in its place.
Near my foot were a bunch of morel mushrooms. I bent and picked a dozen, sliding them into my pocket. Morels were rare and valuable, about 40 dollars a pound.
As I began loading equipment into my truck, I thought about how good morels would taste in the pasta premavera tonight. Morels were the best tasting mushrooms on earth. But Morels only grew near Mother’s Day, not a happy occasion around our house. How was my ex-bitch doing, anyway? She lived in Los Angeles now. The last I’d heard, she was dating a doctor.
As I pulled out of the clearing, I took the morels out of my pocket and laid them on the seat beside me.
“Mothers’ day, what a fucking joke,” I mumbled looking at the mushrooms.

“Jill! Jill, this is Lilly, your wayward mother,” a beautiful blonde woman said, while sitting her suitcases next to the door. Skipper came bounding down the stairs and nearly bowled her over. She laughed and ruffled his hair, then noticed the sticky stuff in his fur.
“You smell like dead fish,” she complained. “Are you the only one home?” she asked, not expecting an answer. She checked the fridge and found little in the way of snacks. That was a change from the old days. She broke a piece off the block of cheese, then frowned at the ten bottles of honey all lined up on the counter. Now what on earth would they be used for?
She bent and took a shirt, panties, and jeans from one suitcase, as she chewed on the cheese, then picked up the small suitcase and headed for the stairs.
“I’m taking a shower, Skip Dog, you guard my luggage,” she said, giving Skipper’s hair one final ruffle as he pranced beside her to the bottom of the stairs.
She stopped and looked around the house. It was much the same as when she had left it two years before. Her old furniture was still there. Mark had upgraded his TV and computer. They were both newer and bigger, she noticed with a spike of jealously. She began disrobing as she climbed the stairs. She dropped her clothing just inside the bathroom door before locking it. A corner of her shirt kept the door from closing completely.

I stopped by 7-11 for a dozen eggs and a bottle of olive oil. As I paid, I noticed Jill across the street by Wendy’s, heading toward Wallmart with a friend. It was that little Phillip asshole.
“Home in one hour,” I yelled to be heard above the traffic. She turned and looked as I opened the door to my truck.
“I know, daddy. We’re just checking out the new CDs.”
“Ok,” I waved, putting the groceries beside the mushrooms. I noticed Phillip talking urgently to Jill as I pulled away. A smile curled my lips. I could almost tell what he was saying.
(“Your father hates me.”)
(“No, he doesn’t. He just doesn’t know you well.”)
“No, I don’t hate you, you little prick,” I mumbled as I turned a corner and they disappeared from my mirror. “I envy your skinny ass. You get all the teen age pussy you want. I haven’t had any since . . . ” I stopped, thinking of my daughter. “Yeah, ok,” I said aloud with a sly smile.
But to be truthful, Jill on her best day could not compare to Lilly, her mother, on her worst. The fucking bitch. Damn how I missed her, even after all the arguing and backstabbing. She was one hot woman. Some women had sex, and others, like Lilly, were sex. There was a huge difference. Everything Lilly did was sexy, and every man on earth noticed. That was probably our greatest problem. I’m not a jealous guy, but I can only go so far before I start swinging something, and of course she stands up for the other guy. I guess that’s what really pisses me off, a woman should stand by her man no matter how wrong he is.
I got the shock of my life when I pulled into my driveway and found a red mustang convertible parked there. I knew the car well. I had bought it three years before.
“Now what the hell does she want?” I mumbled as I gathered up my groceries.

Lilly finished her shower and wrapped a towel around her perfect, naked body. She wiped the mirror dry and threw a new towel over the shower door. She ran water in the sink until it grew warm, then shook out her long blonde hair. It was time for a touch-up or her hair would become long and black. That wouldn’t look right for her grand reunion. Did Mark hate her? What about Jill? She had left her when a daughter needed her mother the most. But her middle age crisis didn’t include a family. Not then, at least. Now she ached for what she had left behind.
Lilly applied Vaseline to her hairline, then put on the rubber gloves.