My Other Mother Ch. 04byAmeaner©
After she left our room, I cleaned myself off with a paper towel and put my pants back on, not bothering with my underwear. Taking the five Dollars, I exited to the hall, went down the stairs and out to the sidewalk. The sun was still up and the weather was perfect as I started walking, still numb from what all had just happened, buzzed from the vodka and with no idea where I was going.
I wandered without much on my mind, just jumbled images of Mum's panties, nipples and her face when she came. When I came. Eventually, I found myself behind a hotel, on a boardwalk that offered a nice view of that part of the harbor and I leaned against the steel railing, looking out over the water in silent solitude.
"Okay..." I started under my breath. "I had sex with Mum."
"No, not sex, it was..."
"It was sex. You don't have to actually copulate to have sex. I had sex with her. I came right in my own mother's face and enjoyed it. She enjoyed it. What does that make me? What does it make her? Oh my fuck, it all goes to hell in a hand basket so fast..."
"Yeah, you fucked that up, didn't you? What do we do now? What, what, what?"
"I shoot myself in the head," I answered for some reason, suddenly thinking of my grandfather and shivering at how that option leapt to mind.
"You are not going to shoot yourself in the head. Fuck, imagine what that would do to poor Mum... No, this has to be dealt with. You've got to deal with this shit, Stevo."
" ... How?"
" ... I don't know."
"She's getting outta hand. I'm worried."
"But she's not, really. Maybe where we're concerned, but you know she has her shit together in a practical sense."
I thought of our new rental payment plan and hissed a short, humourless laugh over how some of her practical shit was together.
About fifty feet out, a large, perfectly white seagull suddenly came to a brief, wing flapping, ungainly hover. Picking some invisible thing from the water, it beat its wings to forward flight again, regaining its supple and powerful perfection of grace as it retreated in a slow curve about a foot above the surface. It disappeared from my line of sight around the side of the hotel and a thought occurred to me, like something the gull had left in return for its unseen prize.
"She was there all along. No, not all along... Since my early teens. She became stricter then, right about the time she and Dad started growing apart, whereas before she wasn't so bad. Yeah... My other mother's just more pronounced now. Because... Mum and Sheila were doing some mighty bad things back when they were kids, sociopathic things and Mum wouldn't have grown out of that; she told me that it only ever gets worse, never better, so my other mother has been there... and the real question is, how did my so-called 'real' mother come about between her days with Sheila and when she became strict? And how does any of this impact on the fact that I'm being forced to have sex with her and that a growing part of me is coming to accept it?"
"Yeah... Well, it was good. Oh shit, the look on her face when we came into it over and over... Fuck, it was so good. Staci was just an idiot."
"Oh my god, listen to you. Why... How did this shit happen? How did we let it happen? How could we have taken total take advantage of Mum while she's obviously not herself? God, it's getting so I can't even be around her now without getting a hardon! Shit!"
"Cause you're a horny, twisted little pervert, like you always knew."
" ... Fuck off, that doesn't help one bit."
" ... The truth never seems to, does it? Truth can be pretty inconvenient that way," I sighed.
That wasn't me answering. My heart leapt to my chest as I realized I'd been so wrapped up in my mumbled thoughts that I'd allowed someone to quietly walk up beside me unnoticed, my eyes still focused in the general direction of the gull's flight.
I felt myself flushing as I turned to behold what appeared to be a priest. A female one. She stood there, unlikely as a gang of pirates sailing into port, wearing a black pantsuit, the little white collar at her neck removing any doubt that the bible clutched in her hand may have left.
The priest was younger than Mum, maybe in her mid thirties, shorter with dark brown, shoulder length hair and green eyes. She was of average build, although moderately endowed for her size, with hips and boobs that modestly flowed in her well fitting attire of office. She exuded a friendly, open vibe as I fretted about what all she may have heard.
"I'm sorry, I startled you."
" ... Uh-hh. A little. It's alright."
"I'm Pastor Marx," she said, holding out her hand.
I stared stupidly at it for a moment before I took it, shaking and daring a look in her eyes to judge how long she'd been standing there. Her grip surprisingly firm, I continued to just look, at a loss for anything to say as my anxiety grew. Her green eyes didn't seem to hold any disgust, or holy judgment from above that I could see, but she seemed to look closely, almost as though she was distracted.
"May I ask your name?"
"Uh... oh, sorry. It's Steve."
"Well, I'm pleased to meet you, Steve."
"Likewise," I replied, my earlier thoughts completely wiped away.
"I don't mean to pry and I hope you don't think I was standing here eavesdropping, but you seem to be bothered by something."
"I... yeah, I was just... thinking."
"About some inconvenient truth?"
I nodded, tearing my eyes away from her attractive face to return them to the water, more or less satisfied that my 'outside thoughts' hadn't betrayed me and taking mental note to watch that from then on.
"Like the kind of inconvenient truth Al Gore goes on about?"
"Yeah... Well you know... if all the inconvenient truths in life were to be packed into that one movie, nobody would have the time to experience them for the time they'd have to spend watching it."
"You're probably right, especially once you add the ones you'd never have expected."
"Mmm," she agreed thoughtfully, leaning on the railing and looking out over the water as well. "I once prayed for wisdom when I was younger."
" ... Did you get it?"
"Oh, yes. The Lord is pretty quick to grant prayers like that, although it takes some time to see it for what it is until a person becomes used to how He does these things."
"Inconvenient truths, like you said. Wisdom shows you the inconvenient truths you need to see in your life."
"That makes sense."
"Yes, but the problem is that once you see that truth, you no longer have any excuse. Know what I mean?"
"Yeah. You have to deal."
She took her turn nodding silently and we just looked out over the water for a minute as the sun began sinking on the horizon, another picturesque, beautiful red sky shaping up for the next little while.
"You from around here?" she asked.
"Princess and Charlotte," I answered. "I take it you're local?"
"Yes. Recently local."
"You just moved here?"
"Moved back here, almost a year ago. Apparently, what they say about us is true, about how we don't transplant well."
"You know, we Maritimers. We go away sometimes, but we always want to come back. Even the ones who can't come back miss their Atlantic home their whole lives. Something to do with this, they say," she informed, gesturing out to the water. "We're just not right if we're not near our shorelines, our waters."
"Is that why you came back?"
" ... Not entirely. I was sort of moved."
" ... Oh. Sooo... I'm a bit curious as to why you'd be wandering the boardwalk with your uniform and bible. I'd think you'd be in the basement of some church somewhere, running bingo for seniors, or listening to rock n roll CDs backwards and searching for bad words."
She smiled wide at this, then actually laughed a bit.
"I didn't mean to be rude."
"No, no. It's just that... Never mind. But, to answer your question: In a few hours, the bars here will be in high gear and full of people, those of God and those who aren't, those who couldn't wait to get out and get drunk and do things that are so far beneath them, not just as God's children, but as the people they are. I'm here to... be available. Maybe to the right person."
"You go right in the bars?"
" ... With the bible?"
"There's no law against it. I smile and say hello to people, even get a glass of drought or play a game of billiards now and then."
"O-kay. So, how do people... you know?"
"For the most part, people are pretty good. I've actually met some who I now consider friends, they likewise. You'd be surprised at how many people are looking for something better, some of them without even knowing it."
"Well, that's fairly amazing." I said, meaning it, too.
She shrugged with a small grin and replied, "I enjoy it."
"Doesn't bother you to be around that lifestyle?"
"No. We all have our crosses to bear, that particular one doesn't happen to be mine."
"Mine either, I don't think."
"In that case, there's a Christian non-alcohol club for young people across town. They have a lot of music and dancing, billiards and things, but most importantly, everybody there treats themselves and each other with respect."
I smiled and said, "I'm not out to go to the bars, Pastor. I'm just out for some air. I'm not even old enough to get in and if my Mum ever found out I did, she'd slap my head off."
"Well... good for her. You still live with your parents?"
"She and your Dad divorced?"
" ... Separated."
"Oh. That's too bad, I'm sorry"
"... So, what do you say we go get a hotdog and a pop from the vendor? We can take a load off and shoot the breeze for a little while."
"Okay," I agreed for whatever reason.
We sat and talked of everyday things such as hockey, school, the weather and all the rest of it for about a half hour after we finished our dogs, an enjoyable conversation that for the most part took my mind from my problems. When it was starting to get dark, she looked at her watch, offering me a smile and telling me it was time she returned to her rounds.
"Well, I'm really glad I met you, Pastor," I sincerely told her.
"Same here. Maybe I'll see you around. We'll have dogs and pop again, eh?"
"Yeah, sounds good."
"God bless, Steven," she bade, lifting her hand, bible once again clutched there in a wave as she started off.
"You too," I returned.
I smiled and watched her go, regretfully checking out her ass as she did, however, that's not why I liked her.
I got up and headed for home after she was out of sight. On my way, I thought about her, (not her ass) smiling a little, but as the realities of what waited at home began to return, I suddenly began wondering if she'd like me so much if she knew about my specific 'inconvenient truth'.
It was dark by the time I got back and the band seemed to be in full swing, as heard from the staircase. The third floor hall was a journey down a dark tunnel from dirty spotlight to dirty spotlight, each one illuminating me momentarily as I passed under them, following the sound of the blues to the appropriate door. I didn't think there was any point in knocking since they'd probably never hear, so I just walked in.
They seemed to have a pretty good groove going in the almost well lit, grimy white, stuccoed room. Jamie and Bob gave me quick smiles with nods, not losing the timing of their grinding, almost sloppy style. The rhythm guitar player looked to be crowding fifty, the type of guy who looks like he could tell you wild stories from all the crazy gigs in all the crazy places he'd played over the years. The bass player was around Jamie's age and looked suspiciously like Mr. Spock, except without the ears.
Mum was sitting between two women in their mid to late twenties, one of them, a slightly chubby blonde, some kind of semi-retro punk, the other looking somewhat demure, a brunette with dark makeup and nails.
My mother smiled when she saw me, waving me over to the big black equipment cases she and her accompaniment sat on. They both smiled politely, me smiling back before taking a seat beside Mum where 'punky' made room. Mum grabbed my hand and gave it a light squeeze of affection, shooting me another warm smile as her shoe tapped out the beat before returning her attention to the band.
When the song was over, she asked of the two young women, "Now what do you think?"
"Better," punky spoke up without hesitation. "Definitely a lot better."
"They sound like... sex," she determined, nodding thoughtfully at the end of her reply.
"There you have it," Mum told the smiling musicians. "You need practice with one another and with your new style, but now you have your identity, your draw. The thing your audience will remember about you once you get it perfected."
She stood and went on coaching them about how their music had to create a fun, sexy atmosphere that attracted a crowd and how women reacted to different styles of the blues, how that kept their men buying them drinks. She explained how that in turn would make the band an attractive prospect to the club owner and how important turnout was to them on account of this.
"Never forget," she summed up, "You're playing for your audience. Artistic values are admirable, but refusal to compromise them won't get you anywhere. A well entertained, loyal following will definitely get you noticed and nothing entertains like sex, especially when properly, subtly implied. People, especially a crowd of young people who've been drinking, will do the rest."
The band nodded, smiling at this and they discussed related topics for a few minutes before deciding to take a break. After the proper introductions, Mum politely excused us before leading me out to the dark hallway.
"So, what do you think of them?" she asked after leading me to the nearest overhead light.
"They're pretty good," I judged, a little distracted by how the quality of light and the shadows it left under her features made her expression seem to constantly change as she moved. "They do need practice, but they have a sound."
"They definitely have a sound," she replied, digging into her purse. "Here, have a few sips if you like. What the heck, it's Friday, right?"
It was so weird. Standing there with her, you'd never think I covered her face in my jism just a few hours before, that I actually rubbed her pussy through her panties until she got off, her hand stroking my cock at the same time. It seemed so unreal and far away that I almost had to ask myself if it all really happened. These thoughts were the real reason I took the bottle she offered as she went on.
"Like you said, what they need now is practice. This is probably the last time they'll be practicing here, though. Maybe one more night after this, but no more."
"Where'll they go?" I asked before taking a drink. "Mbbleea!"
"Someplace where they'll have an audience. I have a few ideas in mind, including a retirement home on the East side."
"A retirement home? Really?"
"Oh, yeah. This is one of those big facilities."
"Yeah, but senior citizens aren't going to want to hear that, are they?"
"You'd be surprised, hon. Those places are like... like the high school experience. It's a community where they're all screwing each other and gossiping about it while having their needs seen to by staff. It's not what you think for the ones who want to be there. Yeah, they have their own little hair salon, games room, smoking lounges, exercise room and the whole nine yards. They'd probably love to watch these guys practice if they made a little show of it for them."
"What about the owners of the facility? Will they want that there?"
"Sure, once I make them. Hey, it's not as if they're expecting to be paid and the band benefits from having an audience to practice with. And how much would you bet on somebody, sooner or later taking notice of this? They'll find themselves in the newspaper as people who are doing a good deed. Entertaining horny retirees. Heh."
"Oh my god... You're good, Mum."
"Ah, it's just pandering to what people can be made to see is good for them," she modestly replied with an appreciative smile. "Most fortunately for them, Cassie and Rachel's heads are screwed on straight. They've seen their potential and they're willing to be there for the long haul, so the coaching I give them will be just as important, especially after we're gone."
"How do they need to be coached?"
"Well, they're bright and they have the right attitude, they just have to learn how to run a man so that he doesn't know it's happening."
"Is that so?" I chuckled, glancing at the cleavage she left open at the top of her short, untucked deep purple blouse.
"Absolutely, it's for their own good. It's the best thing I could do for them and it's something that can't be taught to a whore, or a welfare mentality, neither of which are those two. That way, as long as Jamie and Bob don't get stupid and start playing the field, they won't need me. Of course, it all depends on Wayne and Chris's women, but those two themselves seem fine."
"You're really serious about helping them, aren't you?"
"Well yes, honey. I told them I would. Besides, people come across when you deliver for them."
"And you're enjoying it."
"Yes," she agreed happily.
It was true, too. Even I could see it and I remembered the night in bed with her when she told me how odd it was that it took our lives being turned upside down for her to have the most fun she's had in a long time, despite our shared financial worries. It was nice to see.
I took another drink, gagged slightly and handed the bottle back, saying, "I like it here, too. I don't mean this building and our circumstances, but I like this city."
"Don't get attached," she advised, taking a pull herself before putting the bottle back in her purse.
"There's other nice places and people. ... Hey, sweetie pie?"
"I'm really glad you showed up."
"Did you have a nice walk?"
"Good. ... Uhmm... I hope it wouldn't make you too uncomfortable at this point if I told you I, uh... I keep thinking of what happened. Your big... cum squirting cock..."
" ... Uhh... holy geez, Mum, you're bad."
She moved closer, rubbing her thighs together in the perfectly fitting designer jeans she wore, her hips slowly shifting weight from one to another, accentuating each recipient in turn.
"Mmm... It has to be eight inches and so... thick and nice... When your cum hit me in the face over and over, shot right in my mouth from between my own tits... Oh honey. It was so filthy and wrong..."
"Mum, C'mon, you're getting me all hard and we gotta go back in there."
" ... I'm sorry. You're probably still in recovery, aren't you?
"You could say that," I admitted, looking at the floor.
"Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm just... like you. You know."
"In fact, I'm worse."
"Well... you're just going through a hard time. I'm trying to..."
" ... I know. So am I. ... Look, why don't you go on up to our room and I'll be up in about an hour. We'll talk like I said we would and... maybe make things a bit better. How's that sound?"
"Go on, then. I'll see you soon."
I neatened the room up when I got up there, mostly for something to occupy my mind with, I guess, then made a peanut butter and banana sandwich for Mum, a disgusting, long time favourite treat of hers. When there was nothing else useful to do, I looked around myself. I didn't feel like video games or TV and my vodka impaired senses soon started making noises about the bed.