The Morning After Ch. 3

Julia watched Heather at the breakfast table carefully. Something was wrong; a mother could see these things. Heather kept her eyes averted; her head was down much of the time, her responses monosyllabic. Something was happening in her life.

Of course Jack didn’t even notice – he was so wrapped up thinking about the college (she pursed her lips briefly at this point) that his family could disintegrate without him noticing. For the briefest moment she reflected on the circumstances of her life, then turned back to the problem at hand: she had thought about all of this too many times before.

“Are you all right, honey?” she asked Heather.

Her daughter appeared startled. “Oh yes! Fine!” A smile flittered across her face, a butterfly lost in turbulent winds.

“You sure?”

Suddenly Jack pitched in: “I asked the same question two days ago. Maybe you’re off-colour princess?”

Heather stayed silent for a moment, watching her parents like a deer in headlights. “Maybe”, she finally commented. “I think I’m fine, though.”

Julia kept on watching, though – even when the conversation turned to other things; and each nervous glance and mumbled phrase strengthened her opinion. Another problem to deal with – and, as always, she knew that she would have to take it in hand.

Julia had married Jack when she was only 19. It seemed now as if she had been so much more mature then than Heather was now, at the same age. But the reality was that she had married because she was pregnant, with the first suitor that had caught her eye. Jack had seemed so worldly – she had barely scraped any education together at all, while he had prospects: a college degree was in the offing, with the promise of a fruitful academic career ahead. Perhaps getting married would turn a bad situation into a good future – but the reality had been disappointing. Jack was an academic at heart – his career and studies would always be the central focus of his life. Each progressive promotion distanced him further from his family.

The marriage had to be seen to be ideal, to protect his tenure, to qualify for the next academic rung, to project the image of a man suitable to manage the future of children. Julia learned to behave appropriately, for her livelihood was enmeshed with his, but she paid her own price. At 38, she would look in the mirror and contemplate what she saw: still attractive, but unquestionably becoming matronly, her slim hips gone forever. She wondered sometimes if a man would find her attractive now. She also wondered what it would be like to be with another man – someone to explore her desires, to lead her into temptations that she could only imagine. Who would ever have thought that she would spend her life with one man? Did anybody still do such a thing?

The irony was that all these years of conformance to some idealistic vision of appropriate behaviour was being wasted by Jack’s only vice – he had progressively gambled away all their savings. By the time she found out it was too late. She had almost left him – but what then? She had no way of earning a living, not after almost 20 years in his shadow. And Heather had to be cared for. The only option was to maintain this farce, ignoring her growing desire for an indescribable fulfilment, safeguarding his job as she had always done. Her occasional daydreams were populated with rich, powerful, faceless men who courted her, then drew her close, totally in control, violating her, rendering her helpless and somehow safe before their relentless demands. Jack was an introverted wastrel with no desire or ability to manage the needs of his family – it fell to Julia to organise their lives. The men of her fantasies, however, took charge.

She kept these daydreams intensely private, projecting a model image. The family ran smoothly under her direction, while she and Jack drifted into quiet separate lives.

Heather’s problem was disquieting. She knew even before father and daughter left to head off to college together that she would search Heather’s room. She had done it before, and had never been caught out. The sound of the car had barely faded before she entered the room, and began a methodical examination. She had to be cautious that it appeared undisturbed, but even so she realised quite soon that there was nothing untoward. She had already given up and was turning to leave the room when she realised that the video recorder was switched on. She pressed play, and switched on the television as an afterthought, a whim. But she realised within moments that the clue to Heather’s behaviour lay in the scene before her.

Different emotions coursed through her as the events unfolded. She was surprised to see Heather on the screen, and in a matriarchal response noticed how similar Heather looked to herself at that age. Then, as the boys started quizzing her, Julia felt some anger, which grew to a quiet rage as Heather was stripped of her clothing. And then, strangely, Julia’s mouth went dry as she saw Heather being spread open, touched, examined. Her hands trembled slightly when she saw the first penis being pushed between Heather’s lips, and she flicked the machine off. She sat on the bed, lost, angry, wanting to weep, wanting to rant and rave. She stood up, went downstairs and cleaned the house in a rage of indecision. It seemed inconceivable. How drunk had Heather been?

The lure of the video could not be ignored. After she had calmed down a bit she climbed the stairs again, sat down on the bed and switched on. She watched, quietly this time, as her daughter progressively took three boys cocks in her mouth, stroked and sucked until the boys groaned and spilled their lust down her throat. When they painted her genitalia with lipstick she flushed in embarrassment for her daughter, and a half-cry of shame escaped her lips when Heather was turned over, her bottom spread, and her anus daubed with the red stuff. Her mind seemed empty of cohesive thought – for long moments a monologue streamed through her brain: “Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.”

She found the remote device and turned it off. Then, consciously she pressed the rewind until she found what she would later think of as the cock-sucking scene. She watched it again, and then again; and as offensive as the scene was she found herself pursing her lips, imaging that hardness forced into her mouth, a hand against her head drawing her close. When she finally let the tape run, she imagined with a barely acknowledged pleasure what it would be like to have her legs opened, to be touched, and finally to have the lipstick drawn across her genitalia while an audience of men watched. She felt startled, then immediately guilty as she realised she had projected herself into the scene and that it had fascinated her. She threw down the remote angrily. What was to be done? The only thing she knew with absolute certainty was that the tape should never become public: Heather should never have to face that humiliation again.

But if Heather had this tape, somebody probably had another copy. She had to find out. She would have to speak to Heather, however difficult that was likely to be. How to approach it though? It didn’t matter what she said to Heather, her daughter would relive those events again. It would be difficult to contain her anger at Heather’s behaviour, but it would be damaging to Heather if she let it show. Somehow she would have to walk a line between empathy and retribution.

It was also clear that she could not discuss this while Jack was present. It would have to be a private dialogue. After debating the issue for most of the day, she concluded that it could only be addressed with a straight, if tactful, conversation. She deliberately maintained a light conversation once her family returned home, then waited until late in the evening. Jack drifted off to bed, but she could see that Heather’s light was still on. She knocked softly on the door, then closed it behind her when Heather invited her in.

Heather was lying in bed reading a book in the half-light thrown by her bedside table. Julia sat on the bed and placed her hand lightly on her daughter’s arm.

“Hey mom – what’s up?”

Julia paused. There was no easy way to say this. “I saw the tape hon.”

Heather froze, smiled nervously. “What tape?”

“You know what tape. You and the boys.”

There was silence between the two women for a while. Then Heather spoke softly. “I am so sorry, Mom. I was so drunk…” There were tears in her eyes, and her voice quavered as she spoke.

“I know. That is really no excuse.”

Heather turned her face away. Tears were flowing freely down her cheeks now, and Julia felt the anguish of every parent disciplining a child. “If that’s what happens when your father and I go away, we won’t be able to leave you at home anymore.”

Heather nodded in misery, too ashamed to even argue.

“But”, Julia continued. “We have to make sure that no further damage is done. Are there any more tapes?”

Heather nodded, her eyes facing downwards toward the bedspread.

“How many more?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who has the tapes?”

“Michael.”

“A boy at college?”

“Yes.”

“Did he give you this tape?”

“Yes.”

“Did you tell him you want all the tapes back?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“He won’t give them to me.”

“Why not?”

There was silence. Julia continued: “What does he want for the tapes?”

“He won’t give me the tapes, mom.”

Julia’s heart froze. “Is he blackmailing you?”

Heather nodded.

“What does he want from you?”

Heather stayed silent, too ashamed to speak.

“It’s ok hon – it’s time to tell me now.”

Heather suddenly looked up, stared imploringly at her mother. “He touches me.” Julia didn’t say anything, and after brief moments Heather continued, her voice hoarse. “He makes me leave my panties at home, and then he touches me under my skirt. He makes me lift my skirt and show him.”

“Oh hon…” Julia drew her sobbing daughter into the comfort of her arms and let her weep in near silence for long shared moments. When she finally recovered some composure, Julia asked: “Where can I find this Michael?”

“He’s around at school” – voice coming in short gasps of air – “but he’s told me to come see him on Saturday afternoon.”

“At his house?”

Heather nodded. Julia hugged her daughter closely. “Don’t worry, hon – I’m coming with you. We’ll get the tapes back together”

Julia lay awake later, angry, frustrated, impotent. This creep had it coming. She would go to his house and demand the tape back, use the threat of his parents to intimidate him into doing what she wanted. As she slid into half-sleep, however, she imagined (or did she dream of?) walking into a house without panties, and a hand lifting her hem and cupping her pussy lips while a finger inveigled it’s way between her lips to torment her.

On Saturday afternoon, she told Jack that she was taking their daughter shopping, and as usual he was happy to let them head off on their own. The address that Heather had been given was not in an area that Julia was familiar with: she was surprised to see how affluent the surroundings were. It took longer to find the address than she had expected, and the house stood back from the street, isolated by full, flourishing trees. Of course the college had students from wealthy backgrounds, but this was not what she had expected at all. She stared at the imposing black door, and had to draw on her reserves of anger before she got out of the car, telling Heather to follow. As could be expected, the doorbell initiated deep resonating chimes within the house, but when the door finally opened it was by a man in his late twenties: this clearly wasn’t Michael.

He stood over six feet, with dark long hair that hung in a thick ponytail down his back. His torso gave the clear impression of strength, and deep brown eyes twinkled with the half-smile on his lips. “Can I help you?”

“We’ve come to see Michael”, said Julia.

“I see”, he said. “Come in”. He opened the door and bade them enter as if it was entirely usual for a 38 year old woman to be inquiring after a 16 year old boy. He led them into a lounge area, talking as he went. “My name is Dmitri. I am Michael’s brother, really his guardian as our parents are no longer with us.” The lounge area had a number of chairs in a semi-circular fashion – a young boy was sitting, smiling at them as they arrived. He glanced at Julia with some bemusement. This, obviously, was Michael.

Dmitri beckoned them to sit down, and spoke again as he did the same. “I was expecting one visitor this afternoon – I certainly didn’t think she’d bring a friend.” The words startled both women.

After a moment’s pregnant silence, Julia broke in: “We actually came to talk to Michael.”

Dmitri, smiling, responded: “About the tape perhaps?” He laughed. “I see you’re surprised. No need to be – Michael and I don’t keep secrets from one another.” It dawned on them suddenly that he had clearly viewed the tape himself, even though he had not bee present at the party himself. Heather broke into an immediate flush.

“We’ve come to get the tape back”, snapped Julia, impatiently now.

Dmitri looked thoughtfully at her. “Oh I see! You are the mother, yes?”

“Yes.” Julia stared at this impertinent, arrogant, lazily casual man. They hadn’t know she was coming – what would the have done to Heather is she wasn’t here?

“You have come to protect your daughter’s virtue.” He laughed with gusto. It’s too late for that, I think.”

Julia turned to Michael. “Give me the tapes now and we’ll take this no further.” Her voice was brittle, businesslike.

Michael was taken aback, but Dmitri spoke again before he could respond. “And if we don’t give you the tape, how much further will you take this? Tell me.”

Julia turned back to face him. “My daughter was drunk and your brother chose to take advantage of her.”

“You daughter chose to get drunk, and then to undress and finger herself while the boys filmed her. That’s what the tape shows. That’s what will go on sale at the college. Or onto the internet. There’s a real demand for this kind of thing, you know. And it’s perfectly legal. The lipstick adventure is quite unique –that will make it a high-demand item.” He paused, smiling implacably, while Julia glared at him. “Such a shame to have to go through life with that on your record. Such a shame for your father to have to change jobs, perhaps never get quite the same position again? The academic community is very small, after all. Rumours last.”

“You bastard”, Julia whispered.

“Perhaps I am”, he said. “But there are alternatives.” She sat, in rigid silence, waiting for him to continue.

Instead, he stood up, and walked across to sit alongside her. She shifted away slightly, but unperturbed he reached across and took some strands of her hair in his fingers. “Michael and Heather can amuse themselves. You and I can go upstairs, perhaps? And take off your clothes? And fuck?”

She started trying to stand up, but he caught her arm. “You’re stupid!” she cried. ‘We’re leaving now!”

He cut in before she could say any more. “Then the tapes will be online by tonight. And on sale at the college by Monday. And your husband’s career will be over by Tuesday.” He let go of her arm. “I’m going upstairs now. You choose if you wish to follow.” He rose slowly, looked back at her quizzically and waited. She looked up slowly into her daughter’s pained eyes.

“I’m so sorry, mom”, she said.

Then, silently, Julia arose from the chair and walked behind Dmitri as he climbed circular stairs. Conflicting emotions raged in her: anger, frustration at her impotence to stop this – and yet, Dmitri’s arrogance, his total lack of compromise echoed her fantasies, and her heart was pounding, almost painfully in her chest.

He turned into a door, and as she followed him he turned around to face her, pulled her in, pushed her back against a wall. Without niceties he unbuttoned the front of her jeans, with hands too strong for her to consider challenging him. He pulled them down, taking her panties at the same time. With an embarrassed cry she tried to hide herself, but he trapped both wrists in one of his hands and pulled them away. He bent forward slightly to examine her at his leisure, running a thumb through her pussy hair, parting her lips, finding the nub of her clitoris and tweaking it until she cried out, and her legs shuddered. Apparently satisfied, he pulled her across the floor to the bed: she struggled, hobbled by the clothing at her knees, then struggled briefly as he twisted her arms behind her back and she felt the coldness of steel clamp onto each wrist.

She lay face down now, helplessly pinned by his knee in her back. He ran a hand across her bottom. “You have a nice ass”, he said. “You ever been fucked in your ass?”

She shook her head frantically: “Noooo!”

He pulled the ass cheeks apart, obviously examining her again. She felt the humiliation of a finger trailing it’s way towards her anus, circling it briefly, then slipping into her. At the same time another finger was opening her pussy, starting to drive inwards. The simultaneous violation caught her breath, and her mouth went dry as she moaned softly. She tried to pull her hips away, but within moments the movement changed into a rhythmic cycle, captive against the ministrations of his hand. He laughed quietly, then whispered: “The pussy wants what the pussy wants.”

She closed her eyes, drifted into a world of touch. She felt herself drawing towards a climax, but he took his hand away, leaving her to raise her bottom into the air in want. “Don’t stop…”, she whispered.

He said nothing, and then she felt him move astride her, place his hands under her hips and pull her towards him. She was afraid to let him do this, but she wanted him inside her. “The time has come”, he said, and then slowly pulled her ass onto his cock

She had never felt this full – at first she couldn’t breath, pushing her face into the pillow, but he held her still for long moments, filling her, letting her adapt, and then gently stroking into her, long deep driving strokes. She had never before made a sound during sex, but she realised she was calling his name repeatedly. Could Heather hear her? She no longer cared. Her hips were bucking, demanding release, and it came as he forced his hand up the front of her blouse, under her brassiere, roughly clutching her breast and squeezing it mercilessly: she cried out his name once, loudly, then lay motionless while he satisfied his needs within her.

Much later, as they both lay naked, facing one another, she gently stroked his cock, feeling it’s weight, touching the softness and the hardness of it, the ridges, examining it as she had never done with any man before. He smiled as he watched her. She spoke quietly to him. “What is this? Between us, I mean?”

He reached across, combed fingers through her pussy hair., then looked into her eyes thoughtfully. “You are my …toy”, he said. “To fuck. And I am your fantasy I think.”

She said nothing for a while. “Will I see you again?” she finally asked.

He laughed, gently slapped her bottom. “A lot. But maybe I let Michael fuck you next time.”

Amazingly, she felt tears well in her eyes. He watched her, still apparently amused. “Or we photograph you. Or you give him a blowjob. The possibilities are endless.”

She looked around the room. Her life had changed so much in one week. From domesticated wife and mother to confused sex-toy. The room was beginning to darken as the afternoon drew to a close.

She looked into his eyes. “I have to go.” He nodded without comment.

They dressed slowly. Walking downstairs she saw Heather, naked on the couch, legs open for Michael’s video. It was an incredible, unbelievable sight, and yet now it seemed almost ordinary. Heather turned her face away from her mother in shame. “It’s ok hon”, said Julia. “We have to go.”