Grown Up

"Don't spend too long in the sun, Cara. Make sure you apply sunscreen."

He pointed to a shelf near the door, next to a rack of outdoor gear. There was a little plastic basket with bottles of sunscreen and insect repellent. Cara retrieved one of the bottles, hefting it in her hand. Worth a shot, she thought.

"Thanks, good idea," she called out, flipping the top. "Do my back for me? I can't reach."

Wade paused, then ambled over to her.

"Sure," was all he said.

She handed him the bottle and he squirted a little out onto his palm. Cara turned away and waited. The contact of his hand was cold on her skin, brushing across her shoulders, making her shiver. He lifted her straps delicately, smoothing his fingers over her bare flesh. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand up at his touch, but remained silent as he withdrew his hand and squirted out more suncream.

This time, the contact began between her shoulder blades, smoothing down her spine until he reached the clasp of her bikini top. He pulled it back to rub beneath, tightening the material over her breasts. She looked down and was ashamed to see the twin points of her nipples straining at the taut fabric. His hand slid down to her waist and then disappeared.

"Here you go."

Wade was holding out the bottle for her, wiping the remainder from his palm onto his thigh. The grin had disappeared. Self-consciously, she wrapped an arm around her breasts and took the bottle from him, slipping it back into its basket.

"Thanks," she muttered.

"Remember, not too long. You'll still burn."

"Got it."

Cara turned and practically fled the garage.

---

Rena came home from work just after six and got straight on with making dinner for them all. Cara found her in the kitchen still in her blouse and work skirt, and perched on the counter. She'd changed into a loose t-shirt and shorts, stripping out of the revealing bikini after only half an hour attempting to sunbathe.

Lying on the lounger had just made it worse. The memory of his hands on her skin had triggered something that she was trying very hard to suppress. She'd seen the look on his face though, the way his attitude had changed after running his hands over her body. That part of the plan had worked, tempting him, but Cara hadn't reckoned on the feelings it engendered in her too.

But that part of the plan had worked. Now, all she had to do was keep it up. Sooner or later, Wade would crack and make a mistake, something she could show to her mother as evidence. Rena worked all day in an office while Wade worked from home. Cara and Wade together all day was bound to lead to something, she mused. Especially if she kept up the constant stream of bikini reveals, tight exercise shorts, shoestring tops. She wasn't especially vain but she was conscious of how she looked, and more specifically, how she could look if she wanted to. He'd touched her body at the first invitation; Cara would make sure there were more. Wade had dominated her mother, but he had now met his match.

"Whatcha making?" Cara asked.

"Chicken stir fry," her mother replied, "Wade's favourite."

"Really?"

"Plenty of vegetables, plenty of protein. I'll do myself a salad. Up to you which you want."

"So, you come home after a full day at work and cook two separate meals?"

"He needs the protein, and I don't."

"But it's twice the effort."

"I like to do it for him," her mother shrugged.

"You could agree to compromise on one."

"Have him eat salad? I don't think so, he'd waste away. We can't have that. Got to keep feeding those muscles."

Cara watched her mother's face as she talked, trying to work it all out. She'd never been like this with Cara's father, so willing to make work for herself. She'd smiled to herself when she mentioned Wade's muscles, and it left Cara cold.

"You don't have to do everything for him."

"I don't, but I want to."

"Why?"

Her mother shot her a glance, seeming to hesitate.

"It's different between me and Wade, than it was with your Dad. You can't expect that it'd be the same, hon."

"Yeah, this is very different."

"It's bothering you, isn't it?"

"Honestly, yeah."

Rena gave the food a stir in the large pan for a few moments, then she spoke.

"When your Dad and I got together, I wasn't much older than you. We were together nearly twenty years. There's a lot that changes in that time. You discover who you are, Cara. You discover who you're not."

"And this is who you are?"

Her mother looked up from the sizzling pan. Cara scrutinized her face, looking for answers. Rena was middle-aged, middle-management in an accounting firm, dressed in business-casual attire, hair pulled back and twirled up into a bun. Her face seemed careworn now as she regarded her daughter.

"I'm happier, yes," was all she said.

"Happier, or happy? There's a difference."

"He makes me happy, Cara. I make him happy."

"By doing everything for him. What is that all about?"

Her mother opened her mouth to answer, but stopped.

"What's it all about?" Cara insisted.

"I'm not sure I can make you see. It's very adult."

"I'm an adult."

"I know you think you are."

"But I'm not?"

"Like I said, Cara, you go through life, you discover who you are. Do you think you've done that yet?"

Her mother turned away, pulling plates out of the cupboard. Cara wanted to protest, to dig deeper into her mother's reasoning. She realised that she was bristling for an argument about Wade, but her mother wasn't rising to the challenge.

"Could you call him in, please? Dinner's ready."

Cara didn't move from her perch on the countertop. Her mother gave her a look.

"You want to talk about it more, hon?" she asked, "Or you want to keep judging me? I really would love to tell you all about it, but I need to know you're in the headspace to have that conversation."

The words sounded like the mother she remembered, the one who was always in charge. She'd heard that tone in her mother's voice countless times growing up, and in a strange way it was reassuring to hear it again. Cara launched herself off the counter to go and call her stepfather to dinner. Her mother was still alive and well, somewhere in there. Cara just had to break her out.

The dinner passed uneventfully. Cara made a point of clearing the table and washing up afterwards, but it didn't appear to spark a trace of guilt in Wade. Instead, he retired to the couch and Rena trailed after him. By the time Cara was done, they were watching something, cuddled up together, leaving Cara the armchair to curl up in on her own.

Cara found herself observing their body language as much as watching the show. Wade had his hand on Rena's thigh as she perched next to him with her feet folded beneath her, still in her workwear. When the show ended, he tapped her on the leg.

"Gonna get ready for bed?" he asked.

"Okay," Rena replied, getting up.

When she'd gone, Cara shot a look across at Wade, but he was ignoring her as the next programme started. In the background, Cara heard the shower start.

They watched the show in silence, until about halfway through Rena appeared in the doorway. She was wearing a silk dressing gown in pink, tied loosely at her waist, her hair still up in a bun. Without acknowledging her presence, Wade turned to Cara and passed her the remote control.

"Reckon I'll turn in," he said, getting up from the couch.

"It's early," Cara responded.

"Early to bed, early to rise," he called over his shoulder as he left the room, following Rena.

Cara hunkered down in her chair, fuming silently to herself. She skipped through the channels, scrolled through her phone, but none of it held her attention. In the end, she turned everything off and headed to her bedroom.

Lying on the bed, she stared up at the ceiling, going back over the strange conversation with her mother. It was like Wade had reprogrammed her somehow. Not only had he reshaped her body, he'd turned her into some docile caricature of a doting housewife. She was totally under his thumb and appeared to be oblivious to it.

Tomorrow, Cara was going to step up her plans. A man like that wouldn't be able to resist an offer like she was going to make. Cara would wear her tightest exercise top and invade his inner sanctum, asking him to help her with a weights programme. She would wear the shorts that showed off her incredible rear when she bent down, and she would be doing a lot of bending down. It was all just a matter of time until Wade gave into temptation and did something stupid. Then her mother would have to see.

She thought back to the garage, and the memory of her stepfather in the exercise vest played through her mind. She recalled his hands around the barbells, the firmness of his grip, the delicate strength as he'd rubbed the suncream into her skin. There it was again, that tingle. Alone now in the privacy of her bedroom, she let her fingertips slide down her front until they met the barrier of her waistband.

Cara closed her eyes and slid her hand underneath her shorts, feeling the neat patch of curls and then the silkiness of her outer lips. She began to stroke herself, taking her time, her eyes closed. It felt good, to finally give her body what it wanted after an entire day of....

What the fuck? Her eyes snapped open, listening to the sound through the wall. She heard it again, picking up on the unmistakeable rhythm. Cara cringed, realising what it meant: through the walls she was listening to them. She screwed her eyes shut, trying to block out the relentless thud of the headboard against the wall of the master bedroom.

It seemed to go on forever, stopping momentarily and then resuming with greater volume each time. Beneath the regular cadence, Cara could detect another sound running low and continuously. With a shudder, Cara realised it was her mother, lost in the throes of passion. There was a deeper voice, calling out occasionally too, answered finally by a high keening sound that signalled her mother's climax.

Cara groaned to herself, glad that at least it was over, but the steady thud of the headboard didn't cease. It was implacable, pounding onward even as the female voice trailed off. Cara felt her stomach clench, all at once envisioning it: her mother spread out on her bed, spent, but Wade still unsatiated. He would be pinning her under his thickly-muscled naked body, driving into her, taking his pleasure from the body beneath him.

Cara's fingers began to move again, burying themselves deep inside herself as she listened to the mewling sound begin again. It was the sound of a woman left with no option but to build up to a second orgasm as her husband satisfied himself. Cara could see it in her imagination: Wade's face as he looked down, the steel rod of his erection slamming into her, the gleam of perspiration on his skin.

Cara's fingers moved faster, her thumb brushing her swollen clit. She was building up to her own almighty release even as her mother called out in ecstasy from the other room. She heard a deep, rumbling grunt, and she knew that Wade had found his release too, emptying himself into the woman beneath him. It was all too much, and Cara came hard, curling up into a ball on her bed as the waves of orgasmic bliss surged through her.

When at last the pounding of her heart had calmed enough, she stretched out, panting. Listening as hard as she could, there was nothing now. The house was silent.

---

Cara slept in. When she finally dragged herself into the kitchen in search of breakfast, her mother was already dressed for work, bustling around the place tidying up breakfast things before she headed out the door. She stopped when she caught sight of her daughter in the doorway, tugging down her skirt. Rena's knees were bare and reddened.

Wade was on a stool in his pyjama bottoms, his chest bare, with a mug of coffee in one hand. He grinned at Rena, then tapped his chin with his finger.

"You've got, uh, a bit of breakfast," he told her.

Rena's eyes flared and she wiped her chin hastily with a finger before sticking it into her mouth and sucking. Her cheeks flushed. She bustled past him and was rewarded with a light slap on her backside as she passed. She glanced nervously at her daughter and went to finish getting ready for work.

"I'd better hit the shower, I guess. There's a brew in the pot," Wade said.

Wade got up and sauntered causally towards the door, indicating the coffee pot with a backwards thumb. Cara braced herself for a pat on the bottom too, but her stepfather just brushed past leaving her alone in the kitchen.

"That was fucking awkward," Cara muttered to herself as she started breakfast.

After a few minutes, the clicking of heels announced her mother's reappearance. She had done her hair and makeup, poised in the doorway in her work blouse and skirt. The skirt was tighter than Cara was used to seeing her mother wearing, and it showed off her toned rear. The blouse was buttoned all the way up to her neck, but the cotton was a little too tight across her augmented cleavage. She was wearing opaque black stockings now.

"You going to work like that?" Cara asked.

She couldn't help the sarcastic tone, and her mother bristled almost imperceptibly. Cara smiled, knowing she'd made her point.

"There's lunch for you both, just get it out."

"How was last night?" Cara asked, ignoring her mother's comments.

Rena made a face, smoothing her hands down her skirt again like a guilty schoolgirl. Cara's smile broadened to see her mother squirming.

"What do you mean?"

"Walls are pretty thin."

Rena folded her arms as her surprise gave way to indignation. "Were you listening?" she asked.

"I think the neighbours were listening. I'm not sure we had much choice."

Rena glanced nervously back down the hall, then fixed her eyes on her daughter.

"Cara, hon. Look, can we sit down and have a talk?"

"Now?"

"I can't. I've got to get to work."

"Looking like a secretary from a porn flick."

The barb stung her mother, and Cara was surprised that the words had come out like that. It revealed a bitterness that had been building up gradually ever since she'd been home.

"Cara, that's an awful thing to say," her mother scolded.

"Then why are you dressed like that?"

"Wade, uh... he likes to see me dress up."

"Dressing down more like."

"Cara, please," her mother pleaded, "Look. I need to talk to you. I know this is different, especially after your Dad, but, uh...."

"But what?"

"I'm happy, hon. I'm happier than I've ever been."

The little hopeful smile on her mother's lips hijacked something in Cara's head and the words were out before she could stop them.

"I know, I heard you."

Her mother stiffened as if Cara had slapped her. Blinking furiously, cheeks colouring, she stammered, "It's not, I mean, I need to... oh shit."

Rena's shoulders sagged, and looking at mother, Cara felt the ire begin to evaporate. Whatever was going on was difficult for both of them, she realised.

"I love you," Cara said, her voice lower now, "I've just got questions. I don't think this is, uh, I.... What I'm trying to say is you've gone and changed yourself for him, and I don't know it's the right thing for you."

"You're worried about me."

"Yeah, I am."

"You don't need to be."

Cara wanted to dispute that, to launch into it, but she was aware of the shower rumbling in the background. In the intervening silence, the water shut off.

"Cara, I want to tell you how I feel. I want a grown-up talk. There are things I want you to understand."

"Sure. Okay."

"He makes me feel good. I... I want that. You get it?"

"Yeah, I do. But, I guess I'm saying that some things aren't solved by a fucking meat injection."

With that, Cara turned away from her mother and began to butter her toast. She could feel the other woman behind her in the doorway. Cara waited for a riposte to her jibe, but instead she heard footsteps as her mother walked away. There was the sound of voices briefly, then the front door.

Cara glared down at her toast. Deep down, she knew what her mother meant. Cara's last relationship had just withered away to nothing, and with the end of year exams, she'd stuck her head into the sand and ignored everything else. But, she missed the touch, the feel of a body pressed against her own. Hearing the passion of her mother through the wall as her stepfather serviced her needs was engendering those same needs in herself.

No, she reprimanded herself, that's just a distraction. Her mother wasn't herself, that was the thing that mattered. She was behaving oddly, dressing like the office slut with her new cleavage on show and her stockinged legs and her high heels and her carefully-applied make-up. Cara had to help her mother pull up from whatever spiral Wade had trapped her into. It had to happen soon, otherwise she began to suspect it would be too late. Her mother was losing herself to her new husband and Cara was the only lifeline she had.

---

The opportunity presented itself earlier than Cara expected. Her mother was going to be away overnight on a business trip, leaving Cara alone with her stepfather, midweek. The way that Rena had fussed over whether they had enough food made Cara's stomach churn. Her mother was more concerned that her husband would be cared for than the fact she had a project pitch meeting with a massive new client. It was so out of character. She departed in a flurry, leaving silence in her wake. Wade shrugged and looked at his stepdaughter.

"Gonna go hit the weights," he rumbled.

"If you think I'm taking over cooking duties, you're...."

"I'll cook, Cara, unless you want to."

"I... uh, no, you can."

"Good. Okay."

Wade turned to leave, but paused. "I'm not the monster you think I am, Cara."

"I didn't say you're a monster."

"You think it, though. You've seen the changes in your mother and you think I'm entirely to blame."

"I don't."

"You do."

Wade sighed, his massive shoulders slumping. "Look, there are things I need to explain to you, things that Rena has been trying to explain to you. This is not the same relationship as with your Dad."

"You're right. There was a lot more give and take with Dad."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning you just expect her to do everything around the house. You come home and she waits on you hand and foot," Cara bristled.

"She wants to do it, so I let her."

"She's just scared about getting left again, and you're taking advantage."

"I'll never leave her, she knows that. You aren't hearing me, Cara. My relationship with her is very different to the one you saw when you grew up. She doesn't have to pretend or be someone she's not, now she's with me."

"I think she's pretending to be someone completely different to who she is. She bends and scrapes and makes sure you want for nothing. You just sit there and take it. She's completely under your thumb."

The words struck a nerve, she could see. The big man tensed up. He stepped closer to Cara, looking down at her with those dark eyes, but there was no animosity there. Instead, his face was soft, gentle, so that when he put his hands on her shoulders, she wasn't afraid. Cara stared up at him, feeling the plan click into place. There was only one way to break his spell over her mother, and she felt a little pang of trepidation as she contemplated it. The weight of his hands on her body was triggering something else as well.

"Cara, maybe that's what she wants. Ever considered that?"

He released her and turned away, heading towards the garage to work out. Cara was left, frozen to the spot, with the memory of his hands on her shoulders. She knew what her mother felt, because, she admitted to herself, she could feel it too. There was the strange admixture of apprehension and something else, something more primal, looking up at the big man. He dominated, and Cara felt ashamed to admit that a little part of her was responding to it. That his hands on her shoulders had been the first time she'd been touched in months simply added to the uneasy yearning within her.