Cherry Heartbreak

The clubs ranged from quiet little dives to raging casino mega-clubs and almost everything in between. I guess she had a really active social life. Her taste was close enough to mine that there were really few misfires. And she knew when a quiet night in was just the thing, as well. She said that part of her job was reading the customer. I joked as if that was how she thought of me now. She would laugh and usually do something crass like burp or fart. I'd ask her if that's what her customers got and she'd retort "If they ask nicely, sure." Gross! But she probably would do it.

And the men! Holy cow, the men were everywhere. And of every type! It turns out, I was really sheltered at school, while Clara was swimming in the deep waters. Like. A. Mermaid.

I admit, I may have overdone it with the guys in the first weeks there. I sampled like it was a buffet. Euros. Latinos. A black guy or two. Even a nice Korean guy (he looked like a K-pop idol; insanely hot, but really was pretty selfish in bed). Anything I could ask for was there for the taking.

Clara just wound me up like a watch and I went for it. She really didn't need to prep me too much; like I said, it had been a while and I just unleashed my inner slut and went for it.

After a month or two, I had to slow down. On top of that, one of her connections came through and I got a lead on a dream job I thought I'd never get. It paid great and the experience was phenomenal, right in line with my studies. The interviews I had were brutal, just the toughest of the dozen or so I'd been on to that point. And I thought for sure I had blown it a number of times. But this one kept coming back until...

We went out the night I was offered the job. I was so happy! We went to a really nice cocktail bar and then to Nobu. At first, I offered to pay (I still had some savings left) but Clara just breezed through everything. I don't even recall seeing her pay, but she did whisper with the maitre'd a few times, and *poof* we just walked out with everything taken care of.

"This night's on me, babe," she said, clinking my glass for my third and final toast before we headed to dinner. "Congratulations!"

"Oh, thank you, for ... well for everything! There's no way I could've done this without you! I thought Swede was just not getting me." 'Swede' was Jonas Karlsson, Clara's friend and the hiring boss for this job. He wasn't even my supervisor; he was my boss's boss. He was everyone's boss. It was his agency.

"Aw, he's fine. You didn't need to worry. He told me you'd be a shoe-in for the job." She drained her drink and grabbed her purse, as our reservations at Nobu were in ten minutes. "Besides, I told him I'd crush his balls if he didn't hire you." She gave a crooked little smile. I laughed like a girl who'd had three Cosmopolitans already on an empty stomach.

The meal was fantastic and the rest of the night was just as great. Nobu may be a bit overrated but it was still great food and an even better for people-watching. Clara and I made up stories for several of the tables there; some older, clearly out-of-towners were actually secret escaped war criminals hiding out. A young couple celebrating what looked like a birthday was actually a man celebrating with his mistress and not his wife. We were laughing out loud often enough we were getting looks from other guests.

We ended up at a casino nightclub. Again, we bypassed the queue thanks to Clara. We danced and drank some more, soaking up the ambience and fending off the guys. Now, I had dressed pretty nicely. I wore a chic little dress I had got for my interviews, but it really went well with the classy club that she had chosen. Clara herself was just in some stretch jeans, a white oxford and a blazer. Kinda masculine, but she wore it well. But when we hit the dance floor, she checked the jacket.

"Let's hit it," she said, undoing a few buttons on her shirt. And out came the cleavage.

"Whoa!" I had to shout to be heard over the music. "Where did you get those?" Clara was stacked! She was always kinda flat chested, I mean, like back when we lived in town. I but I guess I hadn't seen her in anything but baggy clothes in, shit, how many years now? I had been living with her! I just eaten with her, and I didn't notice! How oblivious can you get? That was me, I guess! She just smiled and grabbed my hand and all but dragging me to the dancefloor. There was clearly no arguing with her.

She had gotten some kind of surgery along the way and they looked big, but in the way that she had, she kept it subtle, even low-key; hardly the in-your-face bimbo headlights that so many girls in Vegas sported. That night alone, there must've been a dozen plastic girls showing more skin that you would see at a topless beach. But when she hit the dance floor, the spotlight was on her.

She just exuded a raw sexuality that, I'll admit, made even me want her. She gestured for me to join her, and soon we were having a blast, as if no one else was there. Maybe it was the drinks? Maybe it was my excitement over becoming and adult and joining the workforce? I dunno, but I just kinda went with the whole scene.

By the time we were done, we were giddy and sweaty and had loads of male (and probably a few female) admirers. We drank for free and each of us took home a snack for later.

Mine was a nice guy named Glenn. He was charming but had a bit of depth as well. Not flashy or a real looker, but just what I wanted. Clara must've been hungry. She grabbed two guys, both looked like models or athletes. We took separate cars home, and at one stop light, Glenn asked if that was Clara in the next car. Sure enough, I recognized her as she came up for air from Stud #1's lap before turning to the other on the far side of the car before her head disappeared into his lap. Looked like she was starting the afterparty early.

They beat us back home by a few minutes, so when Glenn and I made it inside we were laughing at the trail of clothes leading from just inside the front door to the balcony. I couldn't see much through the tinted sliding glass, but from what I could make out, Clara had a guy at each end and judging from the sounds they were making, they were clearly happy with what she was doing to them.

"Come on," I pulled Glenn towards my room. "It's my party and I want to open my present."

I woke at one point to get some water to fend off what was sure to be a nasty hangover. Clara's door was open and the guys groans were loud enough to leave no doubt that she was wringing every bit of pleasure she could get from her toys before she had to return them.

As for my own, I was a bit foggy, but remembered my own party favor had some skills with his tongue. Average in size, at least compared to my ex, but he had a few tricks that the cheater never tried. I liked him, but this was Vegas; I wasn't expecting any kind of commitment. I wasn't surprised when he wasn't in bed next to me when I woke.

No, the surprise came when I went out to the kitchen and he was dressed in last night's clothes but with omelets and coffee ready. My shock must've shown.

"Hope you don't mind," he said. "I tried to work with what was in the fridge." He nodded towards the upscale but rather empty refrigerator Clara used to store her bottled water, chocolate bars and seemingly not much else. "Sorry if it's not hot but I didn't want to wake you. Is this place always so cold?"

I smiled. I was hungry but a little hungover still. It was really good though.

We talked a bit before he made his goodbye, but not before getting my number. I was actually pleased to give it. He'd been ... nice. And nice was good. I was happy. And happy had company when Clara emerged from her room, alone and again in her uniform of baggy sweats.

"Oh, is there more coffee?" she asked, breezing through. I slid a mug and the carafe to her. She poured and took it black. "You have fun last night?" she leered at me.

I smirked. "Uh huh. Did you?"

"I guess. They were OK. They had two brain cells between them and together couldn't find a g-spot if it was lit up in Vegas neon."

"Still here?"

"Nah, I kicked them out after I finally got mine. Hey this is good," she said, admiring her mug.

"That's my guy. He just left. You want this?" I slid the rest of my omelet to her.

She attacked it. "Wow, this is really good." She paused, looking at me. "You like him."

"I do not."

"Yes, you do, I can see it on your face."

"No, you can't." I felt my cheeks flushing.

"Look honey, I've known you your whole life. You're crap at hiding your emotions. You like this guy. How was he in bed?"

"He was ... pretty good. He knew his way around a kitty and, from what I remember at least, could do OK with the g-spot."

She looked mildly pleased. "Well, I wouldn't mind having him over again if he keeps cooking like this, and he doesn't stay too long." She smirked and headed towards her office.

Honestly, that felt great. Clara had been a great friend and a bit of a momma bear for the past weeks while getting me back on my feet. Her approval meant a lot to me. Once I got more put together, I went shopping to get some new outfits I'd need for work.

After my return, I called home to tell my mom the good news. Well about my job at least. It was waaay too early to talk about Glenn. She was happy, but there was something off about her. I pushed a bit but she denied that there was anything wrong. Then she just broke.

"Oh, honey," she sobbed. "I feel so useless and alone! And the... and the... that bitch!"

I stepped out on the balcony to get a bit of privacy in case things got emotional. Clara hadn't cleaned up from last night. The ashtray had a crumpled package for extra-large condoms, and the three used (and very full) condoms lay on the ground, tied off like party balloons, swelling up in the late morning heat. I was completely grossed out. Clara!

I made my way back inside, standing in the kitchen trying to talk but Mom was completely hysterical. I know it had been hard with Dad leaving. I just didn't realize that me moving halfway across the country would've mattered, but I realized that I had been selfish and hadn't considered her at all. I really couldn't understand any of what she was saying. It was a mix of anger, sadness and loneliness. But something had set her off and it was all coming out now.

I felt frustrated that I couldn't do more for her. After listening for a while, I noticed Clara standing there, looking a bit worried. I told Mom that she needed to take something to calm down and I'd call her later.

After hanging up, Clara knew something was wrong. I talked with her about it, but I barely knew anything myself. I couldn't make sense out of anything she was going on about.

"When do you start your job?" she asked.

"Next month?"

"Ok, let me get some tickets. Let's go home. I need to get home anyways for some work. You can come with. Stay with Mom for a few days. Nothing too long, but let's see if we can steady her?"

It was a great idea. I called Mom and while she was a bit more subdued, she was still pretty incoherent. I told her the plan. In that time, Clara came out from her office and said she had two tickets, leaving in three days and we'd be back home. That got a positive reaction from Mom, so I asked her to hold tight until then and that I'd see her soon.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Already, home looked different. I knew it was all the same and that it was me that had changed. But there was just something that said this isn't your home any longer.

Clara parked the rental in my driveway and came in to say hi and gave Mom a big hug before heading home to her folks. I likely wouldn't see much of her while we were there, as she said her schedule was full.

I unpacked my small bag and came down for a simple dinner. Mom wouldn't talk about what was bothering her, only local news. I wasn't about to push her. But I noted that she had what looked like a double Manhattan in a rocks glass with her meal. I barely remember her ever touching booze before, but that must've been the new normal.

We watched some TV together and, me being tired from the trip, I made an early night and headed off to my old room. Before I went upstairs, I told her she could talk to me.

She nodded, saying she knew. But she had to build up the strength to talk. She begged me to be patient; that it was very difficult for her.

After breakfast the next day, I made a quick trip to see some other friends who were still around. I told them about my new life and about Clara, omitting any reference to the ugliness in my past and just focused on catching up. I returned home in early afternoon and Mom had another drink at her side. She took my hand and walked me to the table where she had Facebook open on her laptop.

"I need to show you this," she said, emptying her glass.

Moving to her email, she scrolled a ways before stopping. "A little over two and a half years ago," she began, "I got this."

She opened the attachment, and there was my father, secured to the floor under ropes.

"Why are you here?"

That voice. That electronic, modulated voice that had haunted my dreams for over two years. I felt dizzy and suddenly needed to sit down very urgently.

The camera showed my father, slightly younger, naked and hard, almost identical to the video I had seen years before featuring my ex. He had that same look on his face of need, of want and absolute desire that had led to so many of my own tears.

"No one makes me cum like you do, Mistress Cherry."

Then she was there. My nemesis. Red leather and nothing else to cover the swollen breasts, flat belly and small tattoos. She strutted over to tower above my restrained father before squatting and taking a healthy shit into his mouth and then onto his face. He remained motionless throughout. Mom sobbed behind me.

"Eat up, piggy," the voice warbled. And on command, Dad ate. He chewed and swallowed like a beggar at a feast. The lean bitch stood, watching the perversion on her floor. Moving to straddle his head again, her gloved hand parted her hairless labia, and she showered him in a golden rain soaking his face, hair and body.

Dad's orgasm was volcanic. Spraying a geyser of sperm wildly, he ate her waste ravenously until his mouth was cleared. Those vicious boots nudged the rest towards his mouth before he consumed that too. Squatting, she pissed with enough force to flush the rest of her feces off of his face before standing to admire her work. Dad was a quivering, moaning wreck while his spent hard-on bobbed like a metronome.

She squatted again, deeper this time. The camera could just make out his tongue greedily wiping at her asshole, while that cold, heartless bitch just stared at the camera. The message was clear without her saying anything. By the time the mocking graphics claimed another relationship for Cherry Heartbreak, I asked Mom for a glass of whatever she was drinking.

Mom began her story, which I already knew; it being so familiar to my own. Videos came by email, untraceable. Dad made no excuses. He offered to move out, but Mom feared getting divorced and begged for counseling. Dad agreed but in the therapy sessions, he refused to commit to stop seeing 'Mistress Cherry'. She begged to know why he was like that. She railed at him about what would people think if they knew? She said his answers centered around that he never knew he was into that until one day something happened. He wouldn't explain what that was. He also said, he didn't care what other people thought.

"And get this," Mom ranted. "He said he was willing to stay together, but I had to understand that serving 'Mistress Cherry' fulfilled him more than anything had since you moved out. That the way she made him cum was the most powerful experience in his life after you left for school. Can you believe that crap?"

Mom said she begged him to give any information on who Cherry Heartbreak was. He simply refused to answer. Once he left for a week, saying it was for work, but he returned looking gaunt and sick. He refused to say where he had been.

She said she tried to make it work with him, but after several months of two or three videos arriving in her mailbox each one with disgusting, depraved acts, she finally kicked him out of the house. She couldn't even look at him, knowing the filth he willingly ingested.

After a second Manhattan, I told Mom my own story. I didn't leave much out, except the part about Kenny jerking off in my room that one last time. It turns out things differed slightly: Dad did not have sex with Cherry, at least on video. Mom said that in the videos she saw, that bitch never had to touch his cock to make him orgasm. She admitted she had watched every video, trying to find some detail about who this woman was so that she could get some vengeance, but every video was similar, with Dad eating big piles of her waste and then only orgasming when she urinated on him, as if that were his signal. Sometimes she would make him wait to eat or cum. All Dad would do was whimper and beg piteously. She said there was some of the cock torture, the pegging and fart sniffing (Mom seemed particularly disgusted by that), but there was no sexual handling of Dad's cock. She described some videos which were altogether different which had him positioned under a small stool or throne, and he was a legit toilet. After she had finished, the camera moved to show his face, covered with muck and filth. She said he looked like pictures of saints in church, with the peaceful, contented look on his face. Those were different than mine, and thankfully so. I don't think I could bear to have seen those. No wonder Mom was so upset after the separation!

The videos continued to be sent after Dad moved out. Mom still watched them. She said she couldn't help it, but I think part of it was some weird remembrance of Dad, in any form. She genuinely missed him and this was a way to at least see him happy, as disgusting as it was. The most recent video had come not even an hour before I had called with my good news. Now, Mom's outburst that day was more understandable.

By the time we were done, it was suppertime, but neither of us was hungry. We did both have another drink, and listlessly watched some TV. I held Mom's hand throughout.

We talked a bit more. I offered to reach out to Dad but I realized I had no idea what I could say to him. Mom said he was clear that he always held me as the most important thing in his life and that this ugliness had only started after I had gone away to school. Maybe there was a way I could use that to bring him round? But Mom just told me to face reality, that he was a pervert and there was nothing left to bring to the marriage, at least as long as Cherry Heartbreak was still using him as a toilet.

I ended up calling him, as Mom said he'd be happy to hear from me. But it just rang, and I didn't get a call back from him until I was on the plane home.

By the time Clara came to pick me up to go to the airport for our return home, I was exhausted. Mom had calmed down, but there was clearly little left in her. She was a robot, powerless to change what was keeping her from a happy life. I had gotten a few calls from Glenn and that kept me sane. I was grateful for that but it was still a downer of a trip.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Clara continued to shop me around the clubs. I did have to curtail things a bit, wanting to make a good impression on Swede. Clara continued to tell me not to worry about it, that he was a good friend. I really wondered how she could be so sure. I wasn't ready to just be that lax. Clara smirked as if I had so much to learn.

On top of that, I did like Glenn. He came over about once a week, and cooked or did something really sweet. Even Clara took a shine to him. She let down her guard and was her usual self in front of him. She even farted in front of him. He looked so uncomfortable! I thought it was hilarious, and Clara just looked at him, daring him to say anything. The look on his face was priceless!