Shattered Glass

Nothing. Damn it, Robbie, focus. I pushed myself up and kept moving. I found the kitchen and made my way down the hall to the second door.

Tom Webb's home office looked exactly as you'd expect from old money. Rich mahogany furniture, leather bound books on the shelves, a large fish tank bookended by fake plastic trees. I located the Kennedy letter on the wall and lifted it off. Holding my breath, I spun the dial on the safe, listening for the crack.

Suddenly, from behind me, I heard the clear double click of a shotgun being locked and loaded. Pure fear and adrenaline rushed into my veins.

"Don't you fucking move!" yelled a woman's voice as the lights came on. "Get your hands where I can see 'em!"

My face was still towards the wall as I raised my hands to the side. I knew the voice. It was Mrs. Webb, drunk. God Damn it! What is she doing here? She's supposed to be gone for the weekend! Fuck!

"Turn around!" she ordered.

I followed her direction. There was Mrs. Webb, standing in the doorway, wearing a red satin chemise, pointing a 12 gauge shotgun at my chest. I need to think of a way out of this and I need to think fast.

"Who are you?" she demanded.

I didn't answer. Fuck, Robbie! Think! The only weapon around was my flashlight but I was at least 10 feet from her and I'd need to be within a yard to reach her. I'm fast, but she's holding the gun like a woman who knows how and she's probably not afraid to pull the trigger.

"I'm calling the police." She stated and circled over to the office desk, never once taking her eyes off me. Holding the shotgun in one hand, she reached out and grabbed the phone.

"No. Please Mrs. Webb. Wait." I called out from behind the plastic mask. She stopped dialing and dropped the phone.

"Who are you? Take off the mask, slowly."

I surrendered with a sighed and a bow of my head, finally caught. I slowly peeled off my mask.

"Robbie?!" Mrs. Webb asked, looking for words and rightfully shocked. "Robbie, what on Earth do you think you're doing?"

There's still a way out of this, I thought.

"Mrs. Webb, my brother's in trouble."

"What? Your brother? You have a brother?"

"Yes, I do. And he owes a lot of money to some very bad people back home."

"So you thought you could steal it?"

"Yes," I told her. "You were supposed to be at the shore, with Tom. I wasn't going to hurt you. I promise. You weren't supposed to be here."

A long pause. Suddenly she burst into tears. "Aw hell, Robbie..." she said through sniffles. "I was at the shore with Tom. I was there until his fucking little whore came banging on the door!"

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Webb," I said, my hands still held up and out. "Please, will you put the gun down?"

"Oh. Yeah." She wiped at her nose and finally lowered the shotgun and I let out a sigh of relief. She walked around behind her husband's desk and flopped herself into the big leather chair. I relaxed a little, but I didn't dare try and break for it. There would be no point. She knew who I was and the only way out of this was to kill her or reason with her and I'm not the former type. She pulled out a bottle of scotch from one of the drawers.

"Have a drink with me, Robbie..." she said more as a statement rather than a question. She poured two glasses and her tears began to subside.

"Where are you from? Where's home?" She asked. "Chicago."

"Oh, I like Chicago!" She said through the last of her sniffles. She held out a glass. "How much does your brother owe?"

I took the glass from her hand and answered, "$150,000."

"Will they take a check? Ha!" She said and cackled loudly, amused with herself. I stood silent.

"Why didn't you ask Tom for the money?"

"Mrs. Webb, we're talking about your husband, Tom, correct?"

She cackled a laugh again and quickly drained her drink, "Ha! You're right. That son of a bitch would have laughed you right out of the room. And when I call him a son of a bitch, I mean it! His mother is a huge one. Huge. Fucking. Bitch!"

She sat up quick in the chair as if all of a sudden she had a genius idea, a moment of clarity, "No! She's a cunt! A fucking cunt! Oh, that feels so good to say!" She shouted and stretched her arms into the air, then collapsed back into the chair, as if the mere sound of the word aroused her. She looked back up at me and took another sip of the smooth scotch. Her eyes lingered.

"36 left." She said.

"What?" I asked.

"Go over to the safe...I'm giving you the combination."

My heart nearly skipped, "Mrs. Webb, are you serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious. You can't take all of it, though. Only what you need."

I stood motionless, hesitant.

"Go on, Robbie, it's ok."

I turned back to the safe.

"36 left." I spun the lock. "25 right." I reversed. "36 left." The safe clicked and fell open. My eyes went wide as I opened the steel door to see stacks of brand new bills in bundles of $10,000. There must be at least a million dollars here. I grabbed 15 of the stacks and began stuffing them in my bag.

"Do you know the significance of that combination, Robbie? Do you know what those numbers are?" She asked me, the tone of her voice changing into something warmer, a new tenderness I'd never heard come from her.

"No, Mrs. Webb." I answered as I shoved the neat green bundles into my bag.

She leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs up on the desk, "They're my measurements, Robbie." She looked up to the ceiling, as if talking to no one but herself. "I turned 40 years old this year. He has no idea how hard it is to keep those measurements at 40 years." She closed her eyes and let out a sniffle, but kept it together. "And the worst part is," she sighed, "he doesn't even care. He's never cared."

I listened quietly as she spoke and I watched her finish another drink. I looked at her feet propped up on the desk and followed their outline to her ankles. Without even realizing it, my eyes followed her legs further. They disappeared behind the desk, and I could see her nipples poking through the satin chemise. The tops of her breasts heaved on her chest as I examined her from across the room. Our eyes met, and her stare was piercing and filled with lust. She gasped and her body shuddered. She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly.

"Robbie?" She softly asked and leaned back farther in the big leather chair.

"Yes, Mrs. Webb?" I answered, uncertain.

"Mmm," she purred. "Robbie, come over here."

I walked around the corner of the rich, mahogany desk. Her eyes remained closed as I watched her. She pulled up the red satin chemise and spread her legs wide and dropped them over the armrests of the chair. She put both her hands on her knees and moaned faintly.

She brought a hand to her breast and grabbed and squeezed on the outside of the fabric before slipping it underneath to her nipple. Her other hand reached her swollen pussy lips and she gasped and let out an audible groan.

She still had not opened her eyes as she began to move her middle finger around her clit. Standing there, three feet in front of Mrs. Webb, I watched quietly as she touched herself.

One hand pinched and pulled at her nipples, while the other had two fingers circling her clit and splitting her lips. She started to rub her pussy faster and she ran her other hand through her hair, tossing it about and shaking her head like a wild horse during the first spring bloom. Her moan got louder and her breath quickened. I could see a spot on her chair getting wet just below her taint as she massaged and tickled and played with herself.

She played with her tits again as she brought two fingers up to her mouth and licked them and sucked on them, covering them with spit. She quickly brought those two fingers back down to her pink. Her breath was fast and heavy as she pushed her fingers into her vagina.

She groaned loudly and her toes started to curl. She rubbed her clit with her thumb and played with her nipples and plunged her fingers into her pussy, again and again. She whimpered as her movements sped up and I could see it building inside of her. Her face twisted, her hips squirmed.

All at once, she cried out and threw her head back as her body trembled and shook. Her husband's leather chair was soaked in her flowing pussy juice as I watched her body go stiff as she climaxed and screamed.

Then she whimpered softly and her body relaxed as she came back down from her high. She continued to rub her pussy and play with her nipples. Her breathing slowed and she moaned softer and easier. She opened her eyes again and looked at me.

"Mmm," she laughed and moaned again faintly as she said, "Robbie, take off your clothes..." I sighed and looked down at the ground. I can't, I won't.

"Robbie, take...off...your...clothes..." she demanded.

"But, Mrs. Webb..."

She interrupted, "Robbie, now! You don't want me to call the police, do you? Tell my husband?" "No," I answered. "Of course not, Mrs. Webb..."

"Then I suggest," She continued, "that you take off your clothes, mister."

In an instant, my entire relationship with Sarah flashed before me. A thousand questions ran through my head. Would she leave me? Maybe she'll understand I had no choice? Can I live with myself if I don't tell her? She'll never have to know. If she forgave me, would she ever look at me the same again? How would I look at her? Would either of us be consumed with jealousy? What if I like it?

I must have taken too long and I'm sure my face gave my thoughts away.

Mrs. Webb said, "Robbie, I bet she doesn't want you to go to jail."

I conceded and my shoulders dropped. I pulled my shirt over my head. Mrs. Webb watched me, earnestly. I untied my boots and my hands started undoing my belt and I looked down at her shamefully.

"Aww, Robbie, don't look so sad..."

I hooked my thumbs inside the elastic of my boxers and pushed them and my pants off at the same time. Mrs. Webb gasped and then let out a deep groan as I stood naked in front of her.

"Robbie, Robbie, Robbie! Come closer," said Mrs. Webb, "your cock is..." her voice trailing off. She looked up at me from the big leather chair, her eyes as wide as mine when I opened the safe. I stood over her, my cock dangling inches from her face.

"What do you want me to do to it?" She asked.

"I don't want you to do anything to it," I said, "I have a woman."

She slapped my thigh, "Oh, don't be ridiculous, Robbie."

"I'll do what I have to do, Mrs. Webb." I said, turning my head away. "Let's just get this over with."

She touched my thighs with her fingertips and scratched her nails down the back of my legs. She put her lips together and blew air softly on my cock. Naturally, I started to get hard. "Oops, looks like your little guy's not totally convinced."

I sighed, "Mrs. Webb, it's not that I don't want it. I mean, damn it, do you know what would happen if I told the guys at the firm that the Mrs. Elizabeth Webb, who we all agree is the hottest and sexiest housewife this side of the Mississippi, had her face so close to my naked crotch that I could feel the heat from her breath and I turned her down? They'd castrate me!"

She laughed and her face softened.

"I'm serious," I said with a smile, "and I'd probably deserve it. Ken Wallace even found one of your old pageant swimsuit pictures on the internet, and uses it as his desktop wallpaper." She laughed again, and looked up at me like a high school girl who just got asked to prom for the first time or just found out from her friend that she heard from a friend of a friend of the boy she liked and that he liked her back.

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah, really," I answered and squatted to eye level with her. "You're a beautiful woman and if this was a different time in my life, I would do terribly naughty things to you. But the love of my life is waiting for me at home and, the night I met her, I made a promise that I would never do anything to disappoint her."

She held my gaze as she said, "that may be the sweetest thing I've ever heard." She sniffled again and looked down. I could see her mind flipping through the memories in her mental scrapbook. Maybe Tom Webb was once genuine and caring? Perhaps he once held her close and there was no one in the world for him but her?

"I'm sorry," she muttered, and she turned her eyes to my dick.

"What?" I asked, confused.

All of a sudden, her hand shot out fast and grabbed hold of my prick. I fell backwards, surprised, onto the floor. "Robbie, your cock is gorgeous," she said as she started to stroke it. "It's so long and thick. And..." she purred, "it's so smooth."

"Mrs. Webb, please, don't do this," I pleaded as my dick grew bigger.

Oblivious, she wrapped her hand tight around my shaft and licked the tip with her tongue. She bent in and took my balls in her mouth and licked back up to the head. She slapped her tongue with it and then wrapped her lips around it and sucked hard.

She moaned loud and closed her eyes and kept her hands moving, tickling my thighs and rubbing my hips and stomach as she continued.

She swirled her tongue around the tip and then she opened her mouth wide, taking as much of me into her throat as she could. She gagged and pulled back off. Spit dripped down onto my stick.

"Your cock is so big," she whimpered and shoved herself back down on it. She grabbed my hips and pulled down, passing her reflex. She gripped me with her lips and sucked hard as she drew her mouth off my cock. She pumped a spit covered hand up and down. She looked in my eyes as she took it back into her mouth, sucking in and out of her throat.

I was on my back on the floor, and by now my cock was standing straight out into the air and covered in her saliva. Mrs. Webb stood up and bent over the desk. "Get up here, Robbie," she ordered. I did as she said, my dick pulsing and throbbing. She pulled up her red satin chemise.

She groaned loud and squealed in anticipation, "Robbie, put your cock in me! Oh, please fuck me, Robbie? Please, fuck me?" She reached back and grabbed my cock, guiding me into her warm, wet pussy. I felt it slide in, her muscles clenching around it.

"Oh Robbie, it's so big!" She cried out and I'm ashamed to admit how much it turned me on. "Robbie, fuck me with that big dick!"

She spread flat on the desk and reached her hands between her legs and started rubbing her pussy as she continued, "Fuck me deeper! Fuck me harder! Fuck me faster!"

Soon I was pounding into her, my balls slapping against her clit. She moaned loud and followed it with a whimper, "Pull my hair. Come on." I grabbed it and yanked back, forcing her body into an arch as I pounded her soaking pussy. I stared down at my cock sliding in and out of her, in and out, and my mouth gaped open. I could hear her moaning and groaning and calling out. I reached around and grabbed her tits. I leaned forward, pressing her against the table and grinding into her pussy.

"That's it, Robbie, get into it!" I felt guilty, but I couldn't help it. A middle aged beauty queen, my jerk bosses wife, in her sexual prime, crying out my name, begging me for more. I had just broken into her house and now she wanted me to break her. It made me dizzy thinking about it. It was just too good.

She flipped over onto her back on the desk and spread her legs wide and started furiously rubbing her clit. "Put it in my ass, Robbie, please put it in my ass!" She yelled out to the ceiling in between breaths.

I shoved inside her tight little asshole and she screamed out with pleasure. I slid in and out of her ass as she rubbed her clit and pinched her nipples.

Her breath quickened and her moaning got louder. Suddenly I could feel her juice spilling all over my shaft and she closed her eyes and said fast, "I'm gonna cum! I'm gonna cum!" She rubbed hard and fast and she whimpered again. "Ugh! Don't stop, Robbie, don't stop fucking my ass, Robbie!" She was shoving her fingers in and out of her pussy and I could hear the squish and the slap of her hand against her lower lips.

"Robbie...Robbie...Robbie, I'm cumming!" She screamed and shook violently about on the desk as cum dripped from her pussy, flowed over my dick and dropped onto the rich mahogany.

"Mmm, Robbie," she moaned, "I want you to cum, Robbie. I want you to cum all over my face. Please, cum for me, Robbie."

My cock was harder than it had ever been.

"Robbie, please," she pleaded, "I want your hot load. I want you to spray it all over me."

I knew it wouldn't take much more. Grabbing her hips tight, I pushed my full length in and out of her ass. I watched her whimpering below me, her eyes closed, her mouth open. "I'm gonna cum, Mrs. Webb."

She slid down off the desk and positioned herself under my cock, and opened her mouth like she was a porn star, waiting for her money shot. She grabbed my cock and she moaned and begged and pleaded as she stroked it hard and fast. "Give me that cum, Robbie. Cum for me."

I closed my eyes and tossed my head back. I thought of Sarah as I heard myself moan and groan. I looked back down at Mrs. Webb as the first string hit her face. And then another. And another.

"Yes, Robbie!" She yelled. "Oh, that's it!"

Standing over her, I watched her squirm and moan beneath me. I had covered her face nearly complete with my thick cum, making it look almost like she was wearing a plastic mask.

With one hand she scraped my cum into her mouth and licked her fingers, while the other maintained a steady stroke.

"I can feel it sliding down my throat. It tastes so good," she said and closed her eyes and took my cock into her mouth once more to suck out every last drop.

She opened her eyes to see me looking down at her in amazement. She smirked and stood up and fixed her red satin chemise.

She flopped herself back down in the leather chair, exhausted.

"You're a good man, Robbie. Put your clothes back on and go home to her."

I put my clothes back on and reached for my bag. I turned to her.

"Take it," she said, "you need it more than he does. And don't worry, no one will know about any of this."

I nodded, "Thank you, Mrs. Webb."

She closed her eyes and slumped some more in the chair. "Call me Liz," she said and waved her hand in a motion for me to leave. "Oh and Robbie, you owe me a glass vase."

I collected my bag and the rest of the tools. As I got to the door of the office, I looked back at Mrs. Webb, already asleep in the leather chair. I flicked the light switch off. The image was striking. The moon shined through the windows of the office, giving the room a ghostlike hue. A former beauty queen, once an icon of youth, perfection, and possibility, drifting off into a drunken sleep in a red satin chemise in her husband's leather chair. I was struck with sadness for her. She was just as alive and vibrant today as she was years ago, but totally unappreciated. Like an old painting, she was still the same color, just faded to a different shade. Changed by time, unknowing and against her will, into another lonely housewife, forgotten by her man, like his baseball cards in the attic.

I took the long way home and pulled up to our apartment just before first light. I shut off the engine and opened my bag to peek at the money inside. Lenny would call in the morning and I'd drive up to Chicago. I'd tell him if I found out he gambled ever again, a single dollar, I would forget he was my brother. I zipped the bag closed and got out of the car. Leaning against the hood, I lit a cigarette in the cool morning air. I sat smoking and thinking about the night.

Through the dark, I heard Sleepwalk drift into my ear and I looked up at our place and could see our bedroom window open. I put out my cigarette and went to the house. I climbed the stairs as the glass slide whistled along the steel string of the guitar. The world once again fell into lazy slow motion as I got to our bedroom door. She was sitting there on the edge of the bed wearing one of my old t-shirts and sweatpants. She looked up at me, uncertain. I smiled at her. She smiled back.