Perchance to Dom Ch. 02

As has already been established in Chapter 1, all characters in this story are 18 years or older.

*****

Grandpop and I were playing a cooperative RPG on the living room's game console. We'd never done that before. A suspicious thought occurred to me. Had mother told her father about Cheryl and I?

"Do you know when a boy becomes a man, Walter?" It was a classic intro into a lecture. He'd never done that before. I mean, not much.

"You said it was when you get a car."

"Yes, but you don't seem to want the expense of a car, so think of my advice as a metaphor for women."

"Finally going to take me to that brothel, Grandpa?"

"That expense is worse. Sex doesn't make a man. It makes babies."

"Yeah, it's about responsibility."

"Your parents were responsible for your first fifteen years. Over the next three years, you've become more responsible for yourself, but a man is responsible for others."

"Mother's responsible too."

"You mother is devoted, diligent, disciplined, and smarter than all the men in her home, but she's not responsible for anything but what she's told."

"I'll be changing your diapers, Daddy, long after you remember who I am."

"That's only because you love me. Get me a beer. No. Bring two."

"Yes, Father." Mom went to the fridge, plucked two bottles, opened them, stepped into the living room, and handed them to us. Serving me was illegal, but that fact hadn't fazed her. She did flash me a look that might have said, "You can say no." Then she resumed her post before her laptop at the kitchen table.

I sipped mine. I'd had beer before, not that brand, but I wasn't a fan. I was not going to complain to my grandfather.

"Not your first?"

"This brand."

"Tastes like dishwater from an oatmeal bowl, right? It's what your father likes. Your mother knows I hate this brand, but does she do something about it?"

"She did what you told her."

"That's right. Even though your mother really does love her daddy, she doesn't feel it's her responsibility to stock a few beers that I enjoy."

"But if you told her to-"

"Your grandfather would have to pay for them." Mother was not going pretend she wasn't involved in a conversation between men.

"Lisa, let us talk."

I got it then. Mother would be spending Father's money. Grandpa didn't have authority over Father. "Thanks, Gramps. You've given me a lot to think about."

He ended up killing more Orcs than I before Father arrived from work.

"Hello, Anthony, please stay for supper."

"Nope. My work here is done." He smiled at Dad, patted my head, and told Mom to get his sweater.

Father kissed mother after she'd seen Grandpa to his car. "Can dinner wait?"

She nodded.

He took her into the master bedroom.

I called Cheryl. I hadn't decided to go all the way yet. Cheryl was a good charge, but I wasn't sure I wanted to make her a full sex slave. That would be a lot of responsibility. We talk about camping one night that weekend.

"Walt?" Father's voice shook adrenalin into my blood. It came from their bedroom. "Come in here for a minute."

"I've gotta go." My voice shook. I closed the flip cover on her response. I told Dad, "I'll be right there." I was already on my feet, moving.

Dad and Mom sat at the end of their king bed. He pinned one of her arms behind her back. She winced in front of me without shame. Father whispered, "Come in, Son."

I swallowed the saliva pouring into my mouth.

"I'll be brief, Walter. Your mother is not a toy. I am not a rival. Your grandfather is a blathering fool."

"Yes, Father."

"Repeat what I said." Father had never spoke like that to me. Something about him felt off.

I didn't disappoint. "Mother is not a toy. You are not a rival. Grandfather is a blathering fool."

Father released mother's arm. "Well, let's get dinner then. I'm famished!" He stood and strode out of his room, herding me out with him.

Two days before the day we had discussed going camping on, I broke up with Cheryl.

"Will you tell me why?"

"I'm not ready to be entirely responsible for you, and if I keep making mistakes with you, I'll feel guilty."

"You've found someone else."

"Not yet." I lied.

"Oh." She had been crying since she first realized what I was telling her. Now she stopped. She sniffed a few times, took a deep breath, and sighed. "Actually, I don't really need you."

A month later, Cheryl called me, from work. "Can you swing by here before closing time?"

"Got the mechanics armed with wrenches?" I smiled into the phone.

"A few. I'm kidding. Just one."

I made a beeline to the car dealership.

"I ought to take you by the ear and plant your face in a fresh drip pan." Gina threatened me. Cheryl wasn't around. "That girl's been moping for weeks."

"That's her business."

"Fuck you." She did shake a wrench at me.

"Look. I've never broke off with a girl before. I did the best I could."

"Oh, she won't say your shoes touch the ground, but I've been around. I've dumped and been dumped. There is no best way. If you care enough about yourself, you'll have enough to share with others."

"What? I came here for a Psychology Today lecture?"

"No. You came here to pick me up for dinner. I'll get dressed." She left me in the service waiting room.

I dialed home. "Mom, it's an emergency."

"Is Cheryl holding a gun to your head?" I hadn't told mom where I was. She probably meant it in a general sense.

"Um, yes and no, but this gun wants me to take it out to dinner."

"Go and you'll be sleeping with the fishes before dawn."

"You don't understand."

"Details, Walter."

I told her the situation.

"Something between Aelphinia's five star and Denny's. No sushi."

"You're a big help, Mom."

"You're a big boy." She hung up.

Damn. I thought this woman pushing forty looked sexy in stained overalls. Gina shook her ass into the glass walled room wearing a black tube skirt that hugged her knees and a red muscle shirt on top of a chest band. Her hair was a bit mussed, but I was staring at her breasts. They reached as far forward as her backside reached back. Gina laughed. "Where are you taking me?"

"Not home to meet my parents."

She shot to me a "get serious" glare.

"You probably don't like sushi."

Her face softened into something resembling pleasant. "Nasty stuff."

"Indian? I know a nice place-"

She tossed her keys at me. "You drive."

I only had a temporary, but I didn't tell her that.

For a mechanic, Gina's car was a temperamental bitch. I refused to swear at it after grinding the gears for the third time.

She painted her nails casually, as if we were on a flying carpet. She finished the last one as I pulled into the parking lot.

I opened the car door for Gina to step out. I opened the restaurant door for her to step in.

"Table for two?" The man greeting us smiled without obvious judgement. What was obvious, to a blind man, I was not this woman's kin. I let him hold a chair for her. I waited for her to sit before I sank into my courtroom stand.

Gina didn't even peek at the menu. "I want to hear the full story."

I didn't tell her the full story. I left out my parent's brief involvement.

"Huh." She seemed a little shaken. She picked up the menu with one hand and sipped her glass of water with the other. "Sherry," she told a passing waiter. I ordered a mint lassi.

She quieted until our table's waiter returned with our drinks and took our order. I started feeling more comfortable.

"You calculating son of a shit mucker." Her eyes trained on me. "Dating may be a testing ground, but you must be some kind of robot to have treated her like that."

"She gave me permission."

"She didn't know what you were talking about. Hell, I don't know what you are. I've heard some things." She paused, checked her purse for the third time, and finished, "But never the likes from a high schooler."

"I'm an adult."

"Hell. My fifteen year old niece is an adult. You're some kind of artificial intelligence."

"That joke's getting old." It was one of my pat responses, at school."

Gina stiffened, gave me a stern look of disapproval. It was exactly what I needed, but I did wish I hadn't said, 'old'. I saw her as a vibrant, living creature. I had to apologize and take charge at the same time.

"I blame myself, my parents, and a culture exploring sexuality so fast, nobody can keep up."

She took half her sherry in one drink. "What do you know about sex? You didn't even fuck your girlfriend who now asks me, 'why.'"

"I told you why."

"Sounded like you were scared."

"Nope. I'm not at all afraid." I stood up, took out all the cash in my wallet and placed it on the table. I went to her chair and offered to pull it for her. Gina looked up at me, curious.

She stood up and let me lead her back to her car.

"Where do you live?" I asked.

"She told me the address. I punched it into my phone. It gave directions. Then I ordered Chinese food."

Gina's car had access to the apartment's underground garage. I opened her door. So she could step out. I stopped my hands' trembling, reached around her back, and urged her close. Man, her lips were like Cheryl's breasts.

She put her hand on my groin and felt my erection, measuring it.

"Here." Gina breathed hot. She hiked up her tube skirt to her waist. She wore sensible white underpants. I reached in and felt the wetness that darkened them. She might have cum then. She bit my ear.

She took my dick out, skilled quick and leaned back against her car, spreading her legs.

I didn't waste time. I shoved the soaked panel aside and pressed my prick into her burning cunt.

"Oh, fuck that cock!" Her voice was intense but not loud. The echoes in that concrete love shack would last until morning.

"Get a condom." I said bucking my ass between Gina' thighs.

"Purse." We had to pause to get it. She fumbled to open the foil. I fumbled to roll it on with a gap.

The fucking thing broke. Passion may have started us in on risky shit. The condom broke that too.

"It was my last."

"In your apartment?"

"No. Damn!" She looked more disappointed than I felt.

I felt more frustrated. "I didn't expect this to happen tonight. I would have carried."

"Don't apologize. That condom's nearly as old as my divorce anniversary."

"You're so beautiful." I tried kissing her again. She kissed back with cooler lips."

"We could get each other off." Gina tried.

"Let's go inside."

A little music and some wine later, we found a suitable groove. It turned out to be a respectable night.

Gina insisted on driving me to school. Thank the gods Cheryl didn't see her drop me off, but Gina made sure everyone, student or teacher who could, see plenty. It took me a few minutes, after she'd driven away, to decide if I should wipe her lipstick off my mouth.

That afternoon, I realized we hadn't swapped phone numbers. It was a mistake that I wouldn't be able to correct for a long time. I took a bus to the dealership. Cheryl saw me and came running. Well, walking swiftly.

"Was she right?" She asked.

"Huh?"

"She told me you were a little boy trying to be a big man."

"It broke." I told her.

"What broke?"

"The condom." As if that meant anything to her. It did.

"Poor, Walt." She took my hand in hers. "Gina accepted a proposal last week."

"You mean, last night was some sort of trap?"

"She called it a test."

I didn't want to hear more. "Thanks, Cheryl."

I went home and waited for Dad. Cheryl texted me, "She said you're not afraid."

"Dad, I'm afraid I've done something stupid. Can we talk in my room?"

He sized me up. "Yes." I followed him. I sat on my bed. He stood.

"Dad, did you date much before you married Mom?"

"What did you do?" True to form, he only talked about what he wanted to discuss.

"I let my feelings get the best of me. I made myself a fool for an older woman."

"So why are you afraid?" He surprised me. Dad wasn't normally a source for insight. That was Mom's expertise.

"Huh? I'm not-"

"When your mother finally accepted my proposal, she asked for two things in return. She wanted one child, and she wanted freedom to pursue her love of programming."

The way he said, "love of programming," hit me in the heart. I had always assumed that my mother loved Dad.

"Do you love this woman?"

"No." I answered.

"There's nothing to be afraid of. All men are fools." The man who was not my rival walked away.

I cried. I fucking cried the moment Father shut the door! Why did I have to chase this dream? On my terms I would gain everything without anyone losing anything. It felt like I was back at square, minus one, the square where losers start the game. Self-doubt is worse than fear and more likely after being wounded.

Mother took careful aim at my hurt. A week had passed before I realized she'd been working on me. "Another game of Scrabble?"

"Pffft! Maybe after I memorize the dictionary." I started picking up pieces. Mom, why don't you play video games?"

"They remind me too much of work."

"But you love programming."

"I love myself too, almost as much as I love you." She held the bag. I dropped in the tiles I had picked up.

"But you love Dad best." My chest anticipated stabbing.

"That's true, but it's not the same love. Parents are hard not to love when they do right by you."

"I meant my dad."

"We have a strong bond." Mother turned away, to put the board and bag into the box. She closed the lid on the box. She didn't want to pursue my line of questioning. I got that much. My heart winced.

"Um, did Grandpa really do right by you? He was so physically - strict."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"I want to know."

Mother picked up the game box and returned it to its shelf. When she closed the cupboard I saw her slump, slightly. "Father would masturbate when he whipped me."

"That's not at all right." I wished I'd cut out my tongue. "Mom, I mean, how did-"

Her sharp breath interrupted me. Her sharp words cut. "I approved of it. He didn't start until I was thirteen. I knew about men and sex and desire. Not well, but I knew enough. It did no harm." Mother was fingering the back of her pants.

"How long had he been whipping you?"

Mother turned around. "Father never punished me physically or emotionally when I was a child."

"That's what his wives were for?"

"We'll stop speaking of him here." She sat down at her laptop and opened it.

I left her to her love. I resisted the urge to go into the master bedroom and touch the tools that my father used on my mother. I had never even seen them, nor knew where they actually were, but my imagination served magnificently. Before I left that fantasy, I had masturbated into a tissue in my bedroom.

Father and Mother passed down the hall into their room. I masturbated again. It was a sign that I had a life changing decision to make. I spent the rest of the night looking online at colleges.

The following Thursday, Gina must have gotten my number from Cheryl. She called me from the dealership. "Would you like to finish what we started?"

"Yes and no."

"Bit brain."

"Same ol' jokes, Gina? I meant that I'd like to, but I'm not going to do that."

"But you're going to do something?"

"Maybe try out a family tradition."

"Sounds taboo."

"I need someone to practice on."

"Not, 'with', I'm hearing."

"You have a fiance to be with."

"I'm not that kind of woman, monogamous."

"Does he know?"

"I basically said if one of us catches the other fooling around, it'd better not be what breaks our marriage."

"Optimistic outlook."

"I know me."

"I can work with that, if you're not against change."

"Walt, you say the dumbest things. I know this riddle. You want a masochist."

"Know any?"

"I've played many roles. Have you heard, the top is often topped by the bottom?"

"I'll write that down. I'll write down your phone number, too."

"I won't tell you that. Last thing I want is my phone to buzz from the wrong guy when it's stuffed in my panties."

"That, was funny."

"Seriously, I don't want you calling my cell. My apartment doesn't have a line, either."

"It has to happen at your house."

"No shit, but I choose when." Gina topped me.

We made a date.

Friday night Father invited a colleague over for dinner, Bette. She had a boyfriend who tried to set a lively tone.

"Mrs. Nelson, this spaghetti is just how I like it. Soft noodles are sexier in the mouth than that al-dente chew fest."

"You're welcome, Jim."

"I'm not Italian, but I'd marry one if she made noodles this good."

My father said, "Jim, that could be construed as a slight against Bette's cooking. She deserves more respect from you."

Thud.

Mother reached, "Bette, Tony says you wrangle the office network and databases. Did you build any software to assist?"

Jim laughed, "Now, now, none of that boring computer talk tonight. Say these croutons taste fresh!"

"Jim, the women will decide what they talk about. I'm glad you're enjoying the food. Bette, I'm sorry I wasn't clear about bringing guests with you."

Yep. It was another high point of the Nelson social season. I have to give Jim credit. He kept cajoling Mom and nudging Dad in the ribs until Bette asked him to go the car and drive home.

"Mr. Nelson, please accept my apology. I didn't invite him, but he offered to drive. I wasn't even going to invite him in for that first drink."

"No harm done, Bette." Father finished his meal with a better appetite.

"We'll have Walter drive you home." Mom explained.

"I only have a temporary license."

Dad suggested, "She could stay in your room, Walt, until I drive to work in the morning."

"You are so funny, Mr. Nelson!" Bette laughed never realizing that Dad had been serious.

"She can drive home, and I'll bring the car back." I said sensibly.

I hadn't noticed how attractive Bette was, until I was shut in the car with her. She wasn't beautiful by artistic or porno star perspectives, but she had silky looking hair, almond skin with few blemishes, and she dressed conservatively, just sharp enough to imagine her being dangerous. I imagined her small hands gripping me instead of the steering wheel.

"You mother always calls you Walter, and your father calls you Walt. Which do you prefer?"

"It depends on who's addressing me." I explained. "I tell people new to me that my name is Walter. Friends can call me Walt, unless they've agreed to let me take charge of them. Then it's Walter, as it should be."

Bette's tinkling laugh softened the road noise. "You have your father's sense of humor. He was very clear that I should call him Mr. Nelson." She smiled as if it were a game.

"How long have you and Jim been together?"

"We date occasionally. I sometimes see other men, but Jim's got a good heart and is emotionally available."

"I know why you see other men."

"Walt, that's not really any of your business." Bette said softly.

"True. I want to say-, but no. I shouldn't. You're right." I fell silent.

"Go ahead. You might learn something when you find out how wrong you are."

"Jim is your pet. You're looking for an owner, but you'll never find one as long as he tags along to comfort you after rejection."

"See. You're completely wrong." She didn't speak again until she parked in front of her house. "Walter, would you know if your parents are in an open relationship?"

"I don't think so. I don't know for sure. Ask Father. He'll tell you. He won't think less of you."

"I did something silly, no, stupid, a while ago. I hinted at seducing your father. He said the strangest thing."

I guessed aloud, "If my father caught his woman with another man, he would ask that man to administer a severe punishment to her."

"That wasn't a joke?" She shook her head.

"If Father thought you really were trying to seduce him, he would have bent you over a desk and whipped your bottom."