Do Not Pass Go 07 - Conclusion

"Sure. What do I have to do?"

"Answer your phone and emails, be honest with me, and be ready to travel down here on a moment's notice. I'm gonna have you back in family court fast as we can manage it. We might have to start with mediation, but if you can follow directions, we'll end up where we want."

After that, we spent a while making sure he had all my contact information, and I was reading his assistant the routing and account number off of a check. I could only hope he was right about having Jessica and/or her cohorts paying for most of this in the end. Then again, I'd gladly empty my accounts to get my kids, and any payback was a bonus.

Honestly, I still didn't feel in control of the situation, but I felt a whole lot better about who I'd handed it off too. Santa was on my side, and maybe Christmas would come a little early this year.

~ * ~ * ~

Traci

Our goal was simple enough. Make the Momster's life a living hell, until she begged Dad to take us off her hands. She had started this, and now we were going to finish it.

Now don't get me wrong. We love Mom, I guess, in a way, sort of. She's still our Mom. A few years ago she was a pretty good one. Now, not so much. Of course, nobody could love Mom as much as she loved herself.

The new plan was to mess with her life, but do it on the sly and deny everything. She'd know it was us, but we were going to make sure there was no damn way she could prove it.

For example, putting the permanent dye in her shampoo. Of course it was us. Who else would it be? Grandma? The Nanny? Some unknown stranger? She knew, but we denied it up and down the walls, while she shrieked and screamed, finally going to work with Smurf-blue hair. And face.

There's a million ideas out there to get even with someone. All you need to do is spend a few minutes on the Internet. Garlic oil in her perfume. Break off the heels on all of her shoes. Just the right one, of course.

The feathery part of maple seeds makes a great itching powder, and only takes about ten minutes to finish, once you've collected enough seeds. The big tree in the backyard provided all we needed. Put that in her bed and underwear drawer, and you get a guaranteed reaction.

Cayenne pepper in her coffee, removing the valve stem from two of her tires, gluing her bedroom door shut, a dead fish under the backseat of her car, all yielded the results we were looking for. Screaming, yelling, threats of death and torture, all recorded of course. The Momster was going insane.

On the other hand, we were behaving like perfect angels, once she started to freak out. Polite, doing our school work early, keeping our rooms clean, getting good grades. We were the Stepford children. Mom would scream, and we'd act hurt, saddened by her vile accusations. She'd send us to our room, and we'd obey, especially since by the time she got home it was typically bedtime anyway.

She was avoiding us, staying out as late as possible, leaving the house before we were up, except when she'd burst into our rooms berating us for some new heinous crime we'd committed against her. Allegedly.

Our digital terrorism continued, signing her up for whatever vile site we could think of, having the most disturbing porn that Jenna's friend could suggest mailed to the house. Publishing her email and phone numbers, from work and home, anywhere we thought it might cause her some grief. Her slutty profile on Plenty Of Fish seemed to get a lot of results.

Yeah, Dad might play by the rules, but I didn't.

My only thoughts were how long we were going to have to keep it up before Dad did something useful, or Mom cracked and killed us in our sleep. That last thought started to worry me enough to order locks for all our doors, using the Momster's credit card of course. It was a lot harder installing those than I thought it would be, but we got it done. Tiger helped, of course. I was my mother's daughter and Jenna's sister. I was learning that men would do an awful lot for a little attention. Tiger got a few kisses, and we got security.

The initial skirmishes were over. Now we were at war.

~ * ~ * ~

Peter

I was still antsy when I went to Pia's for dinner. I'd bought a decent bottle of wine, and some flowers. I felt like I was in high school, all worried about what the parents would think about me, but this time it was the children. I stood outside the door for a full minute before I got up the courage to ring the doorbell.

It wasn't like I hadn't seen the kids before, and they'd been well behaved, but this wasn't the same. I'm not sure why, but it felt totally different.

I smiled when I heard the ruckus inside. "I got it," the girl had screamed before I heard Pia's voice roar, "Leave it!" There was the patter of footsteps, and then quiet before Pia opened the door. She had changed after work, and had a simple blouse on, open just enough to give a hint of cleavage. She was wearing an apron over it, and the tiny red spots confirmed what my nose told me about our dinner. Italian.

She took the flowers from me, and turned her head slightly as I leaned in for a kiss on the cheek. How proper we were, when the kids were present. I think she was thinking the same thing, as she blushed.

"Smells incredible," I said.

"It's just spaghetti and ravioli," she answered, stepping to the side to let me in.

I followed her into the kitchen where the multitude of dishes informed me it wasn't 'just' spaghetti. She had a pasta maker out, as well as a mixer and half-a-dozen Pyrex bowls. The oven was on, and there were three pots on the stove. She'd obviously put in a lot of effort.

It only took her a moment to put the flowers in a vase, then she was back to work cooking.

"Spaghetti and ravioli?" I teased.

She chuckled. "Eric won't eat the ravioli, and even though Kendall will, she prefers spaghetti and meatballs, if I'm making it for Eric."

"Spaghetti would have been fine for me," I said.

"But I like ravioli," she insisted, "and I almost never get to make it. I wouldn't make it just for myself." She turned and gave me a little push. "You're early, go visit with the monsters while I pull this together. You can tell them it'll be ready in about ten minutes."

I thought it would be awkward, but it was anything but. Her kids asked me about mine, and I told them a little about my crowd back in Virginia, as well as Billie's kids. They were all around the same age, with my Tommy the youngest, and my sister's Allie the oldest by a few months. I got lost in the conversation until Pia called out that dinner was ready.

The woman can cook. No two ways about it. I stuffed myself. We finished the homemade ravioli and I had a plate of the spaghetti, with three of the golf-ball sized meatballs. Three pieces of garlic toast and a bottle of red washed it all down, and I groaned when she brought out her homemade cheesecake. My slice felt like it weighed a pound all by itself.

The dinner conversation was more of the same as earlier, talking about what the kids were up to, what Virginia was like, how I liked St. Paul, and so on. It was nice, comfortable, almost like being part of a family again.

The kids were assigned clean-up duty while Pia and I retreated to the closed-in back porch to finish the bottle of wine.

I groaned as I sat down, my stomach almost ready to burst. I'd already loosened my belt a notch. She chuckled.

"You act like you haven't eaten in a month," she said.

"Food like that? I haven't eaten in years. That was fantastic."

She smiled, and blushed. "There really wasn't much to it," she argued.

"So you say. For the last several years, I've been eating my own cooking. I'm almost ashamed of what I've forced my kids to endure. For the better part of the last year, I've been watching the calories. I'd been a chubby hubby for far too long, and needed to drop thirty or so pounds. If I'd had you cooking for me, I wouldn't be a chubby hubby, I'd be a human bowling ball."

"I doubt that. I'd put you on an exercise plan."

"Any particular exercise you have in mind?" I teased.

She grinned, taking a sip of her wine. "Oh, I imagine I could come up with something," she said softly, looking over her glass at me.

"How do you keep your amazing figure?" I asked.

"First of all, I don't eat like that. That's for company. Plus, I run. I'm not one of those crazy runners who can't get enough of it. I put in a few miles most mornings, to get my day off on the right foot, and to keep the pounds away."

"It's working."

"I'm glad you noticed. Whatever you're doing is working too." We had a moment of comfortable silence before she asked me about the progress with the lawyers.

I told her what I knew, which wasn't much so far. They were working on it, and Thomas "Santa" Myers was confident that the results in family court, this time, would be very, very different. I still had some concerns about the kids having to pull up stakes and move.

"They sound like good kids, if a little rambunctious. It's less than two months before school's out for the summer. I doubt everything will be working out in the next couple of weeks. They'll have the whole summer to acclimatize."

It was funny, we were quiet for a while, but it was a good quiet, comfortable. I guess it was all the time spent together casually as lunches. I didn't feel the need to talk just for the sake of speaking. When I topped off her wine glass, she turned in her chair, facing me. "Do you ever think about going back? Trying to work things out?" she asked.

"Honestly? No. Not at all. My wife made toxic waste out of our marriage. It was bad enough before I found out what she was doing. Her reaction to getting caught cheating killed any feeling I may have had for her at one time. Working things out is a non-starter.

"As for going back, the only thing worth going back for is the kids. I think about that a lot, pulling them out of school, having them start over up here. They're smart kids, and I have no doubt they'll adapt well. Jenna is a social animal, and Traci, well, you'll just have to see for yourself. She's brilliant and extremely precocious, the glue that's holding us together. My boy, he's just coming into his own. Doesn't have a lot of friends, I'm hoping he'll do better here."

I saw she was smiling as I spoke. "What?"

"You want me to meet your kids?"

"Of course. As soon as we can."

She smile just grew larger. "What?" I asked.

"Nothing. I was just wondering what they'd be like. If they'd look like you."

"Jenna is her mother's clone. Traci and Tommy take after me, except Traci has her mother's smarts. An IQ off the charts. It's scary."

"Do you have pictures?"

I did, and we pulled our chairs closer together while I opened my wallet, and shared. Then I got out my phone, and showed her those as well. "Jenna's going to be a heart-breaker," Pia said.

"Already started. She's a little out of control. I'm hoping a change of scenery will help rein her in."

We chatted for a bit longer, then she excused herself to make sure the kids went to bed. I relaxed, happier than I should have been with all the crap going on at home. When she returned, we moved inside to the couch, and I felt like a teenager, making out with this amazing woman, with her kids just upstairs. My ears were searching for any hint of a sound, which slowed me down a bit. Pia was willing to take up the slack, and I had free access to her breasts, as we grew to know each other better.

I was disappointed when she told me it was time to call it a night. She looked so beautiful, her hair disheveled, her lipstick smeared, her blouse untucked, and misbuttoned. She was driving me crazy, and I was hard enough to drive a railroad spike.

At the door, I managed one more extended lip-lock before leaving. "When will I see you again?" I asked.

"Uh, lunch?" she smirked.

I'm sure I blushed. "I mean alone, you and me, a date."

"Other than Saturday afternoon with the kids, and church Sunday morning, my weekend is wide open," she offered.

"I'll take it. See you Saturday afternoon, around . . . five?"

"Make it five-thirty, we might not be back by five."

"Five-thirty then," I stole another kiss, before heading to my car. I did notice movement at an upstairs window. Kids.

~ * ~ * ~

Traci

Momster had another man over. I know she was doing it just to bug us. You could hardly even call him a man. I don't think he was much older than Jenna. The pig was all over her from the moment they got home, kissing on her, touching her, feeling her up. It was disgusting.

Jenna immediately went to her room, and came out dressed for war. Or undressed for war. Mom had a fit.

"Jenna! Go to your room, if you can't dress decently."

Jenna smirked, crossing her arms and standing in front of Momster's boy-toy. "No," she said.

"What do you mean 'No?' Go to your room, now!" Mom shrieked.

I was loving it, and poured myself a glass of wine from the bottle that the Momster had just opened, sitting in Dad's old chair and enjoying the show.

Jenna sat down next to the new guy, awfully close. She turned her head to look at Mom. "I'm not going anywhere, and you can't make me."

Mom grabbed her by the arm, and Jenna screamed. "Call nine-one-one! She's going to beat me again! Call, Traci, don't let her hurt me!"

The guy had a weird look on his face, as I pulled out the phone.

"Don't you dare!" Mom yelled at me.

"Why not? What are you going to do, ground me?" I sneered.

Jenna was up to no good. I watched her run her hand down the guy's arm. "What do you want with an old whore like her? Ain't I prettier?"

Mom yanked Jenna by the arm, and my sister tumbled off the couch. I had the phone out and captured the scene for posterity. "Smile," I called out.

I guess it was too much for boy-toy. He stood up and stepped away from all the excitement. "Uh . . . I think I'm gonna go, Professor Wilkes. This is a little too weird for me."

He turned toward the entrance, and Mom chased after him, leaving us alone. I helped Jenna off the floor and gave her a high-five.

"How'd I do?" she asked. Her voice was soft while she glanced back toward Mom's exit.

"God, Jenna. You're the best. That was perfect."

She blushed. "I know you said we should tone it down, but I couldn't help myself. What was she thinking, bringing him here? She must be out of her mind."

I looked up when I heard the front door close. Mom had followed her guy out. By the time we went to bed, she hadn't come home. We chained and locked the doors. It didn't matter, Mom still hadn't come home by the time we left for Jenna's soccer game the next morning. We had to call Grandma to drive us.

I made sure that Dad knew that as well.

~ * ~ * ~

Peter

I was crawling up the walls by the time Monday rolled around. Spending time with Pia was wonderful, but I was getting sexually frustrated. I really needed to see Lily, but she wasn't going to be around until Tuesday. Traci's latest emails had me seeing red, and first chance I had Monday morning, I was calling Santa lawyer, and filling him in on the latest.

"This is good stuff, Peter," he said. "Really good. I'm going to need you to be patient just a little bit longer. I bet this is just what we need to break through the logjam we're running into. I'll pull a few strings if we have to. You need to stay out of this for now and let me handle it. Can you do that?"

"I guess I have to."

"Do. And make sure your calendar is open, with any luck we'll be back in court by the end of this week."

"This week? That soon?"

I listened to his boisterous laugh. "You're playing in the big leagues now, Peter. We know people, people who know people. We're making great progress. Trust me."

"I want to. It's just difficult, I hope you understand."

"Sure. You've been burned. That's the past. This is the present. Trust me."

I filled Pia in on the latest during lunch. As we cleaned up she put her hand on my arm. "Can you come over tonight?"

I'd spent most of the weekend with her and the kids. I was getting blue balls. But I couldn't turn her down. "Love to. Are we going out?"

She smiled shyly, and I was surprised when she averted her eyes. "The kids will be gone. I thought we would stay in if you like."

"I can't think of anything I'd like more."

We wasted no time that evening. She met me at the door in lingerie, which ended up on the hallway floor on the way to her bedroom. She had a great body, nothing like Lily, Theresa, or even Jessie. She had soft curves, a more mature look, great hips, and smallish tits that seemed to fit her well.

She was a woman on fire, frenzied, and pushed me away from between her legs after only a minute or two. "I need you in me," she gasped, dragging me up the bed. "Now, Peter. Don't make me wait any longer."

She got her wish, even if it was over way too quickly for my tastes. I couldn't help myself. The second time was much improved, and we both were feeling better afterward.

"Damn, woman. That was incredible," I said, lying beside her, catching my breath.

"No shit. You have no idea how much I needed that," she answered. She rolled over half on top of me, cuddling in close. Her lips were tattooing her name onto my chest. "Dinner break?" she asked.

"Something light," I suggested.

"My thoughts exactly."

I pulled on my boxers, and she wore a nightshirt, as she pulled together salads in the kitchen. I couldn't help myself, and leaned her over the counter, pulling her shirt up, and exposing an amazing ass. She moaned sweetly as I entered her, and then once I started thrusting harder, she was pushing back. "Fuck me, Peter. Pound my pussy. Do it!"

Who was I to argue? I pounded her for a while, hard, making the cabinets shake. The woman was incredible. I had her coming loudly after only a few minutes, but I was in no hurry to finish. I felt like I could go forever.

I slowed down, stroking her slowly, then reached over and pulled our dinner salads closer. She purred as I poured on the dressing, and laughed as I fed her. It was messy and fun, leaning over the counter, my cock sliding in and out while we ate. "You're going to need your energy," I teased.

Eventually, it became uncomfortable for both of us, so I sat at the kitchen table, and she straddled my lap, facing me, and eased me back home. It was perfect, and we finished feeding each other while sharing some wine straight from the bottle.

She climbed off of me, giggling, and pulled some leftovers out of the refrigerator, along with fruit and whipped cream. It was deliciously decadent, snacking, playing with each other, eating whipped cream off of one another's bodies. Sadly, my erection couldn't last forever, not with all that we were doing. Once I'd finished inside of her, we cleaned up our mess, took showers to get all the stickiness off, and retired to the living room, where we cuddled, watching TV, and playing with each other's naughty parts.

"Having a good time?" she teased, while I lay beside her, sucking on her breasts.

"Absolutely. Incredible. You?"

She sighed, stroking my hair. "Better than I had dreamed of. The best ever. I can't believe how wonderful it is with you."

"Believe it, and get used to it."

She smiled. "Get used to it? You think there's going to be a rematch?"

"If I can help it."

She pulled me away from her tits and wriggled until we were face-to-face. "I want to give us a chance," she said, gazing into my eyes.

It was fast. We had been together casually for weeks, but it was our first time being intimate. It had been perfect, but what I think she was asking was a big step. It wasn't the easy, meaningless sex with young Theresa, or the carefree, joyous time with Lily. We both had more on the line.

Even so, I didn't hesitate long. "Me too," I answered, and knew it was true.