Cleaning House

Jim Swanson knew his family was middle-middle class: they had some money, but it wasn't like they could afford to just go anywhere at the drop of a hat. He knew if his parents had never met then he wouldn't be alive. He knew that his mother, Sharon, was unhappy and he wondered why she stayed with his father. Finally, he knew that because of the maltreatment of his mother at his father's hands, that he hated his father.

James, Jim's father, never physically abused Sharon. His maltreatment came in the form of neglect. James was only thirty-nine, but he was an old thirty-nine. He had fallen into the routine of coming home from work and isolating himself from Jim and Sharon. He would take his meals in front of the TV instead of at the table with them, and he generally would fall asleep there, too. He wouldn't permit Sharon to work, and he absolutely refused to allow her to return to college to finish out her degree.

"Why do you continue to put up with this?" Jim asked his mother one night. "You know he's never going to change." He stopped, took a deep breath, and said, "You deserve better, Mom. All he does when he gets home is eat, shit, pop the top on a beer or six, fart, and watch reruns of The Dukes of Hazzard until he passes out while you're left alone and lonely." He placed his palm against his mother's right cheek and added, "You are too sweet and beautiful a woman to continue living like this."

Sharon looked down, unable to say anything because she knew her son was right. Still, she was unwilling to do anything to change her circumstance, which frustrated Jim even more.

This happened on a Thursday. The following day, another conversation ensued. It was around eleven o'clock. Jim had just gotten home from school and went to tell his mother about the good fortune he had. "I aced my Algebra test today, Mom, and seeing as I have a ninety-eight average, I am dismissed from taking the final."

"Well, isn't that wonderful," Sharon said as she gave Jim a congratulatory hug. "Of course, I'm not surprised. You're one of the smartest people I know. Now, grab that laundry basket and carry it into my room for me, Brainiac."

Jim chuckled as he did so. His mother sat on the bed and he placed it before her, then sat next to her. He looked at her and smiled. She smiled back, then picked up one of James's T-shirts from the basket and began to fold it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him staring at her. She turned. "What?"

"You're too good for this, Mom."

"Too good for what?"

"You know, if Dad wants to throw his life away, then to hell with him. To hell with all of this. It's not too late for you to go back to college, Mom. You can be so much more than a widow to a half-live gimp."

"Your father, he said ... and the money it would take ..."

"First of all, fuck what Dad said."

"Jim!!"

"I said it, and I meant it." He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, Mom. I just ... Look, you could get grants to go back to college. Hell, if it comes down to it, take out student loans. Dad's gone all day. How the hell would he know what you were doing?"

"I just ... don't want ... any arguments ..."

"What is wrong with you?" Jim asked as he began to cry. "You are the most incredible woman I know, the most beautiful woman, inside and out, that anyone could ever hope to meet. You're throwing your life away and I'm trying to throw you a lifesaver, Mom, but you refuse to allow yourself to be rescued. Do you want to know what scares me most, though? I'll tell you. I am so damned afraid that one day I'm going to wake up and realize that you have become just like Dad, and that would be the biggest crime anyone could ever commit against you.

"I love you, Mom, with all my heart, but I can't keep watching you die piece by piece with every passing day. Do something. Let me help. Tell me what to do and I'll do it."

Sharon took Jim's face in her hands and turned him toward her. She wiped his tears with her thumbs. "You really do love me, don't you, Jim?"

Then it happened. If Jim hadn't been looking directly at her, directly into her eyes, he would have missed it and not understood it for what it was. It was slight, almost undetectable, but she inclined her head the tiniest of bits before composing herself once again. Was she about to kiss me? Jim asked himself, and no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than his penis grew to full erection. His hands immediately went to his lap to hide his embarrassment. She asked me something. What was it? Oh, yeah. "Of course, I love you, Mom, which is why I hurt so much. Please tell me that, at the very least, you will reconsider going back to school. And mean it."

She smiled. "Okay. I promise. I'll give it some serious thought." She drew him close and kissed him on the forehead. "And thank you for believing in me, Jim. Lord knows I can't get that kind of support from your father."

"Speaking of whom," Jim said, "today is Friday, which means he'll be stopping by the bar to get tanked before coming home. What say I take you out on a date, just the two of us, and we'll do whatever you want?"

"A real, live date, huh?" Sharon said. "I can't remember the last time I had one of those."

"Then say yes, Mom. My treat. The sky is the limit."

"You know what?" Sharon said. "Let's do it. Only, you don't need to spend your money."

"No-no, Mom. I asked you out, and as a gentleman I shall assume the mantle of absorbing all costs. Now, what would you like to do tonight?"

"Well ... Nice dinner, a little dancing, and we can finish up with a walk through the park. How does that sound?"

"Simply wonderful," Jim said. "Now, I want you to pick out your finest dress and jewelry, and just so you know, I'll be wearing my tux."

"Oh, dear," Sharon said with a snicker. "You aren't joking around, are you? I guess I'm going to have to step up my game tonight."

Jim looked at the clock on the wall. "It's three-thirty now. Shall we say seven?"

"Seven it is," She agreed. Stephen kissed her hand and exited the room, the thought that she might kiss him already driven from his mind.

He immediately pulled out his phone and looked up the number to Griswald's by the Bay, the nicest restaurant in town. He dialed, and when the hostess answered, he inquired about reserving a table. "I'm sorry, sir, but we take reservations a week in advance."

"Damn it!" he whispered to himself. Then, "Oh, is Mark Burnham working tonight?" Mark and Jim were friends. They had been since meeting in college a few years back. If one couldn't get a favor every now and again ... Besides, as the assistant manager, Mark could pretty much do what he damned well pleased at that restaurant.

"One moment, please."

He was put on hold. A minute later, "This is Mark."

"Mark. Jim Swanson. I have a special event I'm celebrating, and I tried to reserve a table for later this evening, but your hostess says you have none available. I was wondering if you could review the ledger and see if you can perhaps squeeze us in?"

"Just a moment, Jim." Silence. "What time would you need it?"

"Seven-thirty."

Silence. "Okay. I can give you table thirty-one," he said as he penciled in Jim's name. "It's a corner table, sultry lighting. You'll enjoy it."

"Thanks a lot, man."

"Thank me with a tip," Mark said with a laugh.

So, that was settled. It was 3:36. He didn't know what the hell he was going to do until it was

time to get ready. Then again, he did. He pulled his money from his tiny vault bank and drove to the florist. He purchased three roses, one white, one red, and one yellow. He was going to have them delivered. He wrote on the card, "I buy these knowing they will wither and die when confronted with your beauty." He wondered if that was a bit much.

It was here that he remembered the almost kiss. It was here that he remembered how his cock reacted to that. It was here that, for the first time in his life, he actually thought of his mother not as his mother, but as a woman he was rescuing from a life of bad choices and mediocrity, a beautiful, vibrant woman any man would want for his own and be proud to be seen in public with. And I'm taking her on a date tonight. He decided the card was perfect. He sealed it, paid, and returned home.

Jim was about to jump in the shower. He hadn't heard the doorbell ring, therefore he was unaware that the roses had been delivered. He had just stripped to his underwear when his mother knocked and entered his room. "Oh, sorry, Jim."

"It's okay, Mom. I was just about to jump in the shower. What's up?"

"The roses you bought me were just delivered," she said with a smile on her face, "and the sentiment expressed on this card is simply beautiful." She stepped forward, lightly pinched his cheeks together with a hand, and kissed him on the lips. It lingered for all of five seconds. "Thank you, Jim. If every plan we've made for tonight falls through, this would still be the best night of my life in a very long time."

"You deserve it, Mom." She smiled again, flipped the card between her fingers like some teen-age school girl who was given an invitation to the prom by the captain of the football team, and then seemed to float from the room. Jim took a step toward his bathroom but stopped. He looked down. He had another erection. Did Mom see? Shit!

He showered, then thought to jerk off to keep this from happening again. But what if she did see? She'd know I was in here longer than normal because I was whacking it. In the end, he didn't. He wrapped a towel around his waist and then blow-dried his hair. Afterwards, he shaved and brushed his teeth for good measure. He splashed Stetson all over his body, then got dressed.

He was waiting downstairs at six-fifty. At 6:59 Sharon descended the stairs. She was wearing a tight-fitting black dress with a plunging neckline that showed off her bosom, and it was apparent that she was not wearing a bra. She accessorized with a 14-karat gold black onyx bead linear drop earrings, a long silver necklace, and a tiny black patent leather clutch purse. She wore black stockings and four-inch heels as a final complement.

"Holy fuck!" Jim said when he saw her.

"Jim!!"

"I'm sorry, Mom, but you look absolutely gorgeous."

She kissed him on the cheek and said, "Thank you, kind sir." She brushed away the light smear

of red lipstick she left behind. Then, "Shall we go?"

"Can we take the Navigator?"

"I don't see why not," she said as she pulled the keys from their place on the peg board. She handed them to him. "You drive."

Jim held the house door for her, then the car door. He started the car, and as he pulled out of the driveway Sharon asked, "Where shall we be dining this evening?"

Jim smiled but said nothing. When they finally made it to their destination, Sharon said, "Oh, Jim. This is too expensive. You can't afford this."

"Don't worry, Mom. I've got it."

Just then, Sharon's door opened. Jim opened his, rounded the car, and handed the keys to the valet. He accepted his claim ticket, took his mother's arm in his own, and the two proceeded inside. He approached the hostess and said, "Swanson, please."

She skimmed her ledger, smiled, and said, "Right this way, please."

She led them to their table, then departed. As Jim held Sharon's chair, she said, "This is nice."

Borrowing from Mark, Jim said, "The lighting is so ... sultry, don't you think?"

"That's exactly what I was thinking," Sharon said. She smiled.

"You look sultry," Jim added.

Sharon looked at him, then really looked at him. She smiled and softly said, "Thank you."

Just then the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine. "Compliments of the house, sir, madam."

Jim looked around and spotted Mark. He raised his glass to him. Mark gave a light bow.

"You know you're spoiling me, don't you?" Sharon asked when the waiter departed.

"If by 'spoiling you' you mean giving you every good thing that you deserve, then okay, I'm spoiling you."

"Why?"

"Ma'am?"

"Why do you feel I deserve every good thing?"

"Because you have a loser for a husband," Jim answered. "He doesn't appreciate you, Mom, and he sure as hell doesn't deserve you." He shook his head in derision. "If you were my woman and I had the means, this is what we'd do every single night. Fine dining, dancing, plays and operas if you wanted, and even walks in the park. I'd do all the big things and all the small things. I would let you know just how much I love you and how much I appreciate you, and just how thankful I am that you're in my life. I'd make love—" He stopped himself, unbelieving that he had made such a comment. He stared wide at his mother. "Mom ... I—"

Luckily, the waiter reappeared at that moment. "Ready to order?"

"Uh ... five more minutes, please?"

"Very well, sir," and he was off.

Jim looked at Sharon. He opened his mouth to say something, but she beat him to it. "It's okay, Jim. Really, it is. You were passionate in the heat of the moment."

He looked into her eyes, almost daring her to not believe what she said but to take his words at face value. She smiled, then quickly picked up the menu. "Prime rib looks good. Oh, but it's—"

"I told you already, Mom. Money is no object. Not tonight. Not for you."

They decided on the prime rib, scalloped potatoes, and a garden salad. Afterwards, silence. About twenty second's worth, then, "Oh, have I told you how handsome you look this evening?"

"Thank you," Jim replied.

"Those roses were so beautiful, and the card even more so."

"Thank you, Mom. I really wanted you to feel loved and appreciated."

Sharon reached across the table and took one of her son's hands into her own. "I do. Right here, right now, in this exquisite restaurant, under this sultry lighting, with you sitting across from me, I feel those things. Thank you, Jim. I had forgotten what genuine appreciation could feel like."

Conversation relaxed a bit, but both were trying too hard to tip-toe around the egg shells Jim had left in his wake. The food finally arrived, though, and that helped with the ever-increasing lulls in conversation.

"I can't believe this cost you $125.00," Sharon said when the bill arrived. Jim couldn't, either.

He looked for Mark, found him, then said, "Excuse me," as he went after him. Catching up, he said, "Mark, good to see you."

They shook hands. When Mark pulled his back, he saw he had instantly become fifty dollars

richer. "Was everything alright?" he asked.

"Superb," Jim responded. "However, I was wondering if you could help out with this a little?"

He passed the bill to Mark, who instantly comped it for him. "Thanks, man. You need me for anything, just name it."

"I need a fifteen-page paper on the socio-political ramifications of displacement within urban communities by Thursday," he quickly said. "Can you do that?"

"Annotated bibliography?"

"Yes."

"You'll have it Monday by seven a.m.," Jim promised.

They shook hands once more. Jim looked down to see the fifty had been returned. Mark said, "Take your lady out and show her a good time."

He relayed this to his mother as they were leaving. "Your lady," Sharon repeated. As she entwined her arm within her son's, she repeated, "Your lady."

"How would you feel about taking that walk before we go to the bar?" Sharon asked.

"I told you, Mom. This is your night. Whatever you want."

He parked. She remained seated until he opened her door, then they began a very slow-paced walk around the park. "It's so lovely here at night with all these lights shining as they are."

"Made even more so by your presence within it, Mom," Jim said. Sharon stopped. "Is everything okay?"

She placed a hand upon his cheek and looked into his eyes, then she did it again. That almost imperceptible incline immediately followed by her composing herself. "Yes, everything is fine." She continued walking, and so did he.

It was going on ten-thirty when they entered the bar. Sharon chose Charlie O'Flaherty's due to its close proximity to the house; it was just three blocks away. They had a couple of drinks, then danced to a couple of songs, then a few more drinks, then a few more dances ... by the time they left they were drunk. Still, Jim convinced her that he could make it home safe, so she allowed him to drive.

Jim pulled into the driveway at 11:55. He turned the motor off and just sat there. Sharon said, "Allow me to say that this has been one of the most fun and romantic nights I have had in over fifteen years. Thank you, Jim. I truly appreciate what you did for me this evening."

"11:56," he said. "I got you home by midnight."

"Well, you still have to walk me to the door," Sharon reminded him.

Jim exited the Navigator and stumbled to the passenger side. He opened the door and held out his hand. Sharon grabbed it and stood, then went sideways before getting her balance. They held hands as they approached the house, and once on the porch, Sharon snickered as said, "Well, this me. Thank you again, Jim. It was a lovely night."

Jim smiled. "You're quite welcome, dear lady. I look forward to doing it again sometime."

Sharon looked at him, into his eyes. She placed a palm against his cheek, then moved in and kissed him full on the lips. She didn't pull back. Instead, she allowed the kiss to linger fifteen, twenty, up to thirty seconds. She eventually did pull back, look once again into Jim's eyes, and then the two came together like iron being drawn to a magnet.

They kissed hard and fast, their mouths and tongues moving over the entirety of one another's faces. Even as they did this, Sharon fumbled with her keys. She finally fit the right one into the lock and turned it. "Wait!" she whispered. She peeped her head inside. Noting that James had apparently made his way to their room, she said, "Okay, come on."

They entered the house, and even before the door had completely shut, they were once again locked together. Sharon guided Jim to the couch. They quickly undressed. Sharon fell back, and Jim fell onto her, his mouth crashing down on her pussy. He ate it hard and fast. "Oh, Jim," Sharon said as she came in his mouth. Under normal circumstances, Jim would have taken his time and licked her cum from her, but this wasn't ordinary circumstances. This was lust fueled by alcohol.

He mounted her and fucked her like a whore he had picked up in a liquor store parking lot. "Oh, yes, Jim," Sharon growled as her son fucked her neglected pussy. "Fuck me just like that." Jim did. He was unrelenting. He fucked his mother for a good fifteen minutes, then he gave one final push, and when he came inside her, he gave a low, guttural groan that seemed born more from pain than pleasure.

Out of breath, he slowed, then stopped. He bent down and kissed his mother. "I love you," he said. "I always will."

As much as they hated to do so, they made their way to their respective rooms, both wondering where two people could go from here, especially considering they were mother and son.

The weekend was going to be a long one. Both Jim and Sharon knew this. There was so much to talk about, but with James being in the picture, they would more than likely have to wait until Monday before getting the chance to say or do anything, and both wanted to say and do so badly.

Sharon fixed breakfast. When Jim entered the kitchen, she smiled brightly and said, "Good morning," with a lilt in her voice.

He smiled as well. "Good morning, beauti—"

"What smells so damned good?" James interrupted as he shambled into the kitchen. He polished off a warm and flat beer from last night before grabbing another from the fridge. He went to the stove and took inventory of Sharon's labors. "Bacon, eggs, biscuits, hash browns ..." He slapped her on the ass. "Damn, woman. You trying to rile my affections?"