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Arizona heat: Jenny's Story, Part 1

Jenny's radiator isn't the only thing that overheats when she meets Kate.
Arizona Heat

Part 1b: Jenny’s Story

By K. Finnegan

Feedback most welcome - ---*---

“No, No, No! Don’t you dare you miserable piece of shit! NOOOOOO!” I screamed as I impotently pounded my fists on the steering wheel of my Chevy Malibu.

The steam pouring up from under the hood was growing so thick I could hardly see. I pulled off the road and hit the brakes, sending up a cloud of brown dirt from the packed earth shoulder. I turned off the engine and sat silently as the thick Arizona dust swirled and mingled with the steam escaping from the radiator. After another short tantrum, I leaned on the steering wheel and wept. It wasn’t even noon, and June 21, 1980 already seemed like it was going to be one of the worst days of my life.


My husband and I had moved to North West Phoenix with our infant son four months ago, after his company had transferred him. At first I was excited to be living close to mom and dad, who had moved to the nearby retirement community of Sun City three years ago. Although it was great being near them – they were a great help with the baby – the sad truth was, they were pretty much the only people I socialized with. I desperately missed my friends back in San Diego, but after Tom and I got into a huge fight when he got our first phone bill, I hardly spoke to them anymore. He told me I needed to make new friends, but how was I supposed to meet anyone here? It’s too hot to go outside, there’s no beach, no sidewalk cafes or street life, and I had a 10 month-old baby to look after.

It was bad enough being without friends in a new State, but my home life had become stale as well. Tom and I hadn’t had sex since I became pregnant. After Max was born, I was ashamed of my body and the weight I had gained. I didn’t even want Tom to see me naked. I got the feeling from him that he didn’t want to either. But even after I lost most of the weight and got my libido back he seemed disinterested, and oblivious to my hints. Then there was the move, the stress of the new job, and the stress of being cooped up with Max and I in the scorching Arizona summer.

My pregnancy had changed my life and my body in many ways. In addition to going up two cup sizes, I had put on about 25 pounds, which really isn’t that bad considering I’m 5’8”. After Max was born I made a great effort to loose weight, exercising at home several hours a day in order to get my beach body back. Before Max I had a pretty awesome body, if I do say so myself; 36, 25, 37 with firm D cup breasts and long strawberry blonde hair. I could turn heads at the beach with the best of them. I managed to lose most of the weight, but my hips, ass and thighs remained curvier than I would like no matter how much I exercised or dieted.

Tom still had a sex drive, but he seemed to prefer to release it by secretly masturbating. I stumbled upon his porn stash two months after the move, hidden in the back of an old filing cabinet in the storeroom by the carport. I was looking for the receipt for our vacuum, which had stopped working, but what I found was shocking. I knew about the stack of Playboys he had under the bed, heck I even read the articles in them myself sometimes. But these magazines were graphic and hardcore; close-ups of oral, vaginal and anal penetration, group sex, and most shocking to me, several pages of girl-on-girl sex.

Having grown up in a fairly religious house, those images traumatized me. I withdrew from my husband even more, hurt that he preferred masturbating to hardcore porn to me. I started to borrow magazines from his stash while he was away and masturbate regularly myself, both to release my frustrated libido and as a form of revenge. I even considered buying one of those sex toys they advertized in the back of the magazines, but I never got the nerve.

Once while Tom was away on a business trip, I woke up in the middle of the night in a state of arousal, with images from his hardcore magazines stuck in my head. I slipped on my robe, grabbed a flashlight and went out to the storage room. I found the magazine I was looking for and took it back to the bedroom, along with a bottle of wine. Like a naughty schoolgirl, I curled up in bed with the porno, reading it by flashlight. I began fingering myself as the wine took hold.

As I felt my climax building, I flipped to the back of the magazine – past the dripping penises, past the semen-spattered blondes - to the pictures I longed to see again. Two beautiful girls, one blonde, the other brunette, were entwined in passion. They kissed, they sucked each other’s breasts, they licked each other’s…! I experienced a sudden climax, and a shudder ran through my body as I moaned and panted in ecstasy. As I lay back and started to fall asleep, I felt ashamed and confused. I told myself that it was just post-natal hormones playing tricks on my mind.


This frantic day began when my mother woke me up. She had offered to take Max, for the day and had driven out from Sun City to collect him. When nobody answered the door she let herself in with the spare key I had given her and found me sound asleep. I was supposed to ready for work when she arrived, but Max was being a little beast last night, and without Tom to help I was up all night. I was so exhausted I slept right through the alarm. My husband, Tom, was in Nevada on business till Tuesday, and without him, the week had been beyond hectic.

I didn’t have time to breastfeed Max this morning as I usually did - I was due at work in half an hour. I grabbed a few bottles from the fridge that I had extracted with my breast-pump last night, shoved them into one of my small baby supply gym bags and gave it to mom. After quickly bidding goodbye to her and Max, I took a frantic shower, dressed and ran out the door, making sure to grab the small gym bag I kept my breast pump and empty bottles in.

My doctor told me that I was prone to breast engorgement, a painful and potentially dangerous condition caused by excess milk production in my breasts. If I don’t drain them regularly, either by feeding Max or with the breast pump, they swell painfully and can suffer tissue damage. My breasts were already aching due to Max’s missed meal and felt cramped in my 36 DDD bra.

I drove my 73 Chevy Malibu hard, but I still arrived at the dental practice where I worked 15 minutes late. I made my apologies to Anne, a dental assistant who had been filling in for me at the front desk. Tina, the office manager greeted me frostily. I felt terrible, as I had specifically asked her for this Saturday shift because I needed the hours.

I took over the front desk and got to work, but my breasts were aching terribly. I held out as long as I could, but eventually I broke down and asked Tina if I could take my lunch break an hour early. She gave me an icy stare, but agreed. I collected my gym bag full of supplies and went into the female employee restroom, and locked myself in a stall.

Impatient for relief, I dug in the bag for my breast pump and pulled out…a pack of diapers. A sickening feeling came over me as I realized I gave Mom the wrong bag! I frantically rummaged through the bag, but the breast pump was nowhere to be found.

“Don’t panic,” thought to myself, “you used the pump last night in the nursery. Are you sure you packed it?”

I couldn’t remember. There was a chance it was still at the house. I had just under an hour. If I took 51 st , drove like a demon and made all the lights, I might just make it back in time to save my job.

Fifteen minutes later, I was stranded on the edge of town, five miles from home. I was sitting in a cloud of steam and dust, in heat that is supposed to reach 120 by noon. My tits were about to burst, my husband was in Nevada, and I didn’t know anyone I could call for help, even if I could find a pay phone. As I leaned on the steering wheel, weeping and feeling sorry for myself, I noticed that the air in the car was quickly getting warmer as the merciless sun beat down. I had to do something, and soon.

As I morosely considered my options, a shadow passed over the driver’s side window, followed by three loud taps. A young woman with long red hair was peering in with a concerned expression.

“Hey! Are you OK?” she shouted.

I sat back in the seat and gathered myself before opening the door to meet my young rescuer.

Standing before me was a pretty young redhead in a white cotton halter-top, short denim skirt and flip-flops. Her long curly hair was tied back in a black skull and crossbones bandanna, although several long strands fell loosely to her shoulders, framing her cute, freckled face. She looked to be about 5’4”, and perhaps in her late teens. She was slender, but with well proportioned curves in all the right places. It was hard to read her expression, as she was wearing a pair of mirrored aviator’s sunglasses, but I sensed disapproval.

“Hi,” I said, dabbing my eyes with a wadded up tissue. “Do you know anything about cars?” I asked.

She glanced at the steam escaping from under the hood.

“I know enough to recognize a blown radiator,” the redhead said rather curtly. Her voice had a lovely southern lilt that I couldn’t quite place. “Not much you can do till it cools down. Do you need a ride somewhere? Metrocenter isn’t far, and it’s air-conditioned. You’ll bake if you stay here.”

“I live a few blocks north of here, just past Cactus Road,” I said, “If you could take me there, I would be so grateful. I’m having a hell of a day.”

“Sure.” She replied with shrug, “Grab anything you need and lock’er up. If you come back in a few hours with a couple of gallons of water, you should be able to get her to a garage.”

“Thanks,” I said with a weary smile. “You are the first good thing that has happened to me all day. My name is Jenny, by the way.”

“Kate,” she replied, awkwardly shaking my proffered hand.

Kate was driving a white Ford van that looked like it had seen better days. She had pulled in behind my Malibu, and was now starting the van up and, I hoped, turning on an air conditioner. How people survived these Arizona summers without AC in their cars, I will never know.

I gathered my purse and my baby supply bag from the back seat before locking the car and joining Kate in the van. I opened the passenger side door and gingerly climbed into the seat, wincing slightly as I adjusted the shoulder strap to the seat belt. My breasts were starting to throb.

“Are you sure you’re OK?” Kate asked, sensing my discomfort.

“I’m just a little…” I said, blushing. I decided there was no need to go into detail. “No, really, I’m OK,” I said. “Thanks.”

“Here,” Kate said, offering me her “Big Gulp” soda, “You look like you could use a cold drink.”

I gladly accepted the soda, took the straw between my lips and drank deeply, as I luxuriated in a cold blast from the Van’s AC. I sighed and closed my eyes as the cold coke slid down and my skin cooled in the artificial breeze.

“Kate,” I said wearily, “did you ever have one of those days when everything went wrong?”

“Hell,” she said with a grin, “I’ve had months like that.”

We shared a laugh as Kate put the van in gear and headed north along 51st.

On the way to my house we exchanged small talk. I told her a bit about myself, and she really seemed to warm up to me when I told her about Max.

Kate was sixteen, and was getting ready for her sophomore year at high school. Her family had moved to the area from Athens Georgia about 4 years ago. She didn’t fit in at school and was bullied on account of her freckles, her accent, and an early developing bust. She had become a bit of a tomboy and a loner until her second semester of high school when she met Mark, her current and first serious boyfriend, in music class. He had 3-piece surfabilly band, which had recently grown to a 4 piece after Kate had been asked to join as the new bass player, a fact she was quite proud of. She sounded like she was really in love.

We arrive at my street in a leafy suburban development just before noon and pulled up in front of my house. I didn’t want Kate to leave just yet, as I might need to beg a ride with her again, so I insisted that she at least come in to refill her Big Gulp with fresh soda and ice. To my relief she agreed. She let me out at the curb then pulled around and parked the van in the shade of a giant cottonwood tree across the street from my house to shield it from the blazing mid-day sun.

I was rummaging in my purse for the keys as Kate crossed the front lawn, the brittle Bermuda grass crunching under her flip-flops. The only other sounds were the incessant buzz of the cicadas and the hum of swamp coolers. The sauna-like heat was growing oppressive, and I was relieved when I finally got the door opened and welcomed her inside.

“Oh wow,” Kate said as she stepped into the cool, dark hallway, “real air conditioning!”

“I insisted that Tom installed real AC,” I told her as I closed the door, “I was not about to go through an Arizona summer with nothing but a swamp cooler – they make a house so humid.”

I was so glad to be home. It was a cozy little ranch style house, typical of the developments in this part of town. The doorway opened onto a short hall, which led to a comfy looking den with a long couch facing the far wall, which had small fireplace nestled between sets of built-in shelves, and a color TV. The room ended in a bay window that faced the front yard, with a pair of recliners set in front. A coffee table in front of the couch held a few magazines and candles. Heavy dark drapes were pulled shut, keeping out most of the light, giving the room a cool, cave-like feel.

Past the den a short hall led to a small utility room with baskets of laundry sitting atop a washer and drier. The hall then entered a formal dining room with large windows overlooking the back yard. Opposite the front door was the kitchen, one end of which opened to a small bar facing the den. The house was carpeted with deep gold-brown shag, typical of the time. Kate had taken off her sunglasses and was looking around curiously as she kicked off her flip-flops and left them by the door. With her glasses off, I noticed her pretty green eyes. Her face looked like it belonged on an Irish tour brochure.

“There’s soda in the fridge Kate,” I said as I walked down the hallway to the left, heading for the nursery, “help yourself.”

I entered the nursery and rummaged about for my breast pump, looking under blankets and stuffed toys. It wasn’t here.

“This must be Max,” Kate called from the kitchen.

She must have seen his photo on the fridge.

“Yes,” I called back, “It was taken about a month ago.”

“He’s adorable!” she cooed.

“Don’t panic,” I whispered to myself, “maybe you left it in the hall bathroom.”

I often used the hall bathroom to clean baby supplies, but after a quick search I came up empty handed.

“Damn it!” I muttered, a little too loudly.

I looked in the hall closet by the office, and again came up empty. I swore again under my breath. I must have put the damned thing in the gym bag I gave mom.

I had one hope left – that I can reach mom by phone. She could be here in 45 minutes with the breast pump. If I couldn’t reach her, well, I might have to ask Kate for another favor and have her drive me to the hospital. I dreaded the thought of going to a hospital for something as silly as a misplaced breast-pump, but my tits were in agony. I entered the kitchen and found Kate leaning against the counter, gazing into the back yard.

“Jenny, where’s the bathroom?” she asked as I reached the phone that was mounted on the kitchen wall next to a calendar.

“Oh,” I replied, indicating the hall I had emerged from, “just down the hall to the left.”

I picked up the receiver as she slipped past me and padded down the hall in her bare feet.

I dialed mom’s number and waited while it connected and began to ring.

“Odds are, they aren’t home,” I thought pessimistically.

It was a Saturday, and they are so active in the social activities the retirement community offers. Dad was probably finishing up a round of golf, and mom was likely at her bridge club, or visiting friends and showing off her grandson.

The phone had been ringing for several minutes. I sighed heavily, hung up and went over to the couch. I sat down heavily and buried my face in my hands as tears of frustration welled up in my eyes. I took a shuddering breath as I silently berated myself.

“You are such a fuck-up,” I thought to myself. “Why did you sleep through the alarm? Why didn’t you check in the bag you gave to mom? Tom will be furious if he gets a bill from the hospital just because you misplaced a stupid breast pump.”

I took another shuddering breath and sighed. I wished I could just go to bed and make it all go away.

“Jenny, what’s wrong?” Kate asked softly, as she placed a comforting hand on my shoulder.

I didn’t hear her come in to the room, and was embarrassed to be seen in such a state by her. Yet at the same time I felt comforted by the presence of a friendly soul, and was glad I was not alone.

“Are you sick Jenny?” she asked, her voice full of concern. “You’ve been trying to hide it, but I can see that you’re in pain.”

“Oh Kate, it’s so embarrassing,” I said, my voice cracking with emotion. “I gave mom the wrong bag this morning. I woke up late and didn’t have time to feed Max, so when my mom came to pick him up this morning I…I packed some bottles for him, but I put them in the bag with my…my breast pump. I can’t reach mom on the phone,” I sighed dejectedly, “and she isn’t due back with him till six. If Max doesn’t eat enough or I don’t use a breast-pump, my boobs swell up and hurt like hell because my body makes too much milk. My doctor told me it’s called breast engorgement,” I explained. “If I don’t get rid of the extra milk, the tissue can tear and get infected, and…Oh shit, I’m leaking!” I cried.

Looking down at my blouse I saw wet stains forming around my nipples.

“I’m going to have to go to the hospital!” I sobbed pitifully.

Kate ran back to the kitchen and returned with a box of tissue. She pulled a few free and handed them to me.

“Jenny, is there anything I can do to help?” she asked, a helpless expression on her face.

“Not unless you happen to have a breast pump.” I sighed, as I wiped tears from my face. “Or a really hungry baby,” I added. “It’s no good,” I said dejectedly, “I’m just going to have to go to the hospital. Tom’s going to kill me when he gets the bill.” I looked at her miserably. “Oh Kate,” I said, “you’ve been so nice and so helpful - I hate to ask you for another favor, but could you drive me to the hospital? I’ll pay you for the gas.”

Kate sat down beside me on the couch and thought for a moment.

“Jenny,” She finally said softly, “If you had a breast pump, you’d be OK and you wouldn’t need to go to the hospital?”

I bit my lower lip and nodded.

“Or a hungry baby?” She continued.

I nodded again.

Kate took a deep breath and exhaled.

“Jenny,” she said softly, “It doesn’t really have to be…a baby, does it.”

This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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