| The Door, Part One 1926, 1884, 1960, 1640, maybe 1500s. What an amazing and odd mix of points I pondered as I leaned my head on the window of the coach car. Looking at my watch I surmised we were maybe one hour yet to York. People milled about the platform in this little Northern English Village waiting to board the train or perhaps waiting for arriving friends or relatives. Long journeys often lead me into little escapes of my own imaging as in this case what different periods must have been like to live in. Carved in the stone facade of little station the numbers 1926 arching in block relief over the passage way, and beyond I could see an ancient, at least for my western eyes, old Gothic style church — 1640 I guessed as If I was some local docent waxing on to far flung tourists, Americans, Germans, and a few Asians. My precious Kate stirred ever so slightly against the side of my breast causing me to shiver slightly. Her flaxen hair half covering her elfin face, her little glasses pushed in an awkward jaunty bend just above the bridge of her nose on one side. Gently so as not to wake her pulled them off folding them and putting them in my purse. She is such a gift I thought not like some of the blustering ragamuffins I have seen running about pestering their mums to frayed distraction. She as gentle as summer breeze yet gifted with a mischievous and infectious twinkle in those soft blue eyes that perhaps hinted of the sometimes glimpsed spirited imagination underneath. Kate seems to truly love the adventure of travel, at 11 she has until now been mostly been bustled about on car trips for camping, day trips, or the odd overnights when traveling about in the western US coastal States where we live. This is her first trip overseas, and even the preparation for her was a thrill beyond even Christmas. I remember when her first passport arrived she clutched it as if it were a book of magic spells, counting each page and playing childish guessing games as to what stamps would one day appear on each page. Looking at mine she had thrilled to see the random stamps from far flung places as if looking in a story book or National Geographic. Lee.. Leach — and and Steenee? Leach and Steenee she had mused trying to sound it out that’s a funny place. I’m glad we don’t live there I’d have to write that every time I sent a card to Grammy. I laughed so hard I nearly had tears, the simple world of a child so innocent yet curious. Their priorities are so much more simplistic, yet more focused than those we grown-ups must carry about in this sometimes frightful adult world we must live in. Throwing back my shoulders suddenly transformed into the wise worldly geography teacher I took her little chin upon my finger tips and waved my other index finger at her, playing the roll of stuffy teacher. It’s Liechtenstein Miss Katherine. Sounding it out for her Lick Ten Stine…peels of laughter ensued. I don’t want to live some place that sounds like lick ten pigs!!! Obviously pleased with her own little pun I let her laugh then returned to my teacher roll. Miss Katherine you will fail Geography and English at this rate. If you must amuse yourself with word games then it is Stine like a beer mug not swine like a pig…again she interrupts enjoying the counter play. Well then if I licked ten beer mugs I get drunked and mommy would yell at me — she mimics a drunken slurry sway. Oh god I’ve got a reincarnated Sarah Bernhardt here I think to myself. I try to again play the teacher, well Liechtenstein is actually the worlds smallest country, its only 62 square miles and ….No use she has become my little drunkard nothing is going to break her theatrical whimsy. Kate — or more appropriately my little “Sarah” now. “Shay purdee lay dee wha huhsz a gurl like eww doin in a nie shz playz like dis?” she intones adding the odd hiccup for affect. My Sarah stumbles forward her eyes a bit fluttery, waving her arms about for balance. Caught in the moment she flings herself toward me like a sofa cushion that has been tossed by another across the room. In her theatrical moment both her little hands come flying at me as she mimics the fall. I reach forward to try and catch her, in my head I think to myself — hey the term “Go Break a Leg” is not meant to be taken literally. As my little Kate falls towards my outstretched arms both her hands land at the top of my breasts, clad only in a strapless casual tube halter top, she is in a bit of a free fall now and as her hands quickly slip down my torso, she in the process, inadvertently drags my top along with her in one motion completely exposing my somewhat ample 38 C bosom. Her little hands are followed by her elfin face, momentarily slowing her fall as she slides face first along my cleavage. Oh umm ooff she gasps into my cleavage as she tries to regain footing now grasping at my outstretched thighs forcing my legs apart and causing my little summer shift to rise up to my pantie line. I feel her fumbling for balance, time seems to crawl for me as I sense her little soft finger tips gripping and fumbling, even slightly brushing at my crotch. Red and embarrassed my little pixy looks the fright, Sarah has left the building leaving my poor novice Kate to fend for herself. Typical Prima Donna I think to myself deserting the poor understudy, so that it will be she not Sarah to suffer the consequences and forthcoming bad reviews. Mom, Mommy oh jeeps I’m sorry she pleads, still clutching palms down at my upper thighs. It’s OK sweetie I sooth, ignoring the fact that my breasts are still fully exposed to my little thespian. But, but... she tries to explain, shush I sooth pulling her close in a warm hug. She sniffles as if still in a bit of a stun, her arms remain straight at her sides, palms now up turned they become a wedge on my slightly quivering “V”. I rest her head back into my bare bosom stroking her soft flaxen hair to reassure her — this is nothing to fret about. I become acutely aware of her soft, even moist lips pressed to the side of my breast. I scold myself inside for having the conflicting feelings of both motherly love and tepid but still recognizable arousal from deep inside myself. I try to relax and assure her by concentrating on her performance. My, my what the little budding actress we have here, you were very good maybe you should… Kate interrupts again from her position on my cleavage; I feel a slight tingle as she literally talks into my cleavage feeling her lips move against my sensitized skin does nothing to allay my building feelings of arousal. But Mommy I pulled your top down and everything. And? I ask… leaving the pregnant pause to hang in the air. She looks up at me now, searching questioning eyes, her chin now propped between my tits looking up her head bent back a bit. But, she giggles, a little embarrassed, but I pulled your top down and… And? From me again the pregnant pause… And well its just I seen your tata’s Does that make you uncomfortable? Nooo, biting her lower lip and again the adorable pink blush returns, it’s just that I thought you would be mad and all. Do I look mad Katie Dimples? Softly I stroke her hair, she has not removed her hands from their wedged position at my crotch. She seems to be almost unaware of where her hands are at this moment. No honey it feels nice to Mommy, after all for many months after you were born this was the only place where you could get the nourishment that made you the big beautiful little miss that you are now, and even after you started to eat solid food I still nursed you, perhaps even longer than some mothers do. Her face quizzels as if searching to try and remember those long ago days. How long Mommy how long did I umm, stumbling at the words, how long did I do it, drinks from these I mean. I lied, I hated to but how could I tell her she was almost three when I stopped and only then because I felt at that point she may carry vague memories of it into the future and become confused. Oh you were about 10… I was not 10!! she almost shrieked, interrupting me. Laughing and extricating one hand play slapping at my exposed left breast. I would remember if I did that to them last year!!! Ten months, months little miss silly brain, not years. The word 10 years hung on my frontal lobe it seemed, 10 years, 10 years I flashed at the visual of my sweet Kate. Cuddled next to me naked and warm her small mouth savoring my teat, the gentle scraping of those two big adult front teeth that looked so out sized in her small mouth at 10. Feeling her tiny buds just barely rises on her slim torso. Closing my eyes for a moment an almost involuntary squeeze of my thighs brought me back quickly feeling her left hand still wedged there. My mind seemed to have departed all together as I picked up mid-sentence in what to save my life I could not tell you what came before it. “…and I don’t know I just think that” — soft giggle — “be just so much…” I had to put my finger to her lip not wanting at this point to deal with whatever it was that she had gone on about. Patting her bottom quickly I pulled my Katie up hugging her. Come on you, Mommy is going to catch cold, pulling up my top. She attempted to stop me but I just smiled and grabbed her little hand. But it’s summer Mommy. Shush….Shush you, grinning to let her know my mood was full and bright. Like the summers light now dancing on the train platform one hour from York still. |