Idle Hands

"I'm going to go upstairs to change and clean up," she said. "I had a good day in court, but after seeing that accident, I want to get into some clean clothes. Can supper be ready in about thirty minutes?"

"You got it, Mom," Sarah said with a blinding smile. "I'll tell Alex to come down. He's been channeling Iago too long, anyway."

*****

"This is wonderful, Sarah," Rachel said a short time later, after she had taken a quick shower and changed into more comfortable clothes. They were gathered together in the dining room, eating supper.

"Thanks, Mom. It isn't a very complicated recipe. I'm looking forward to learning more at Le Cordon Bleu when I start there in the fall."

Rachel grimaced, but declined to rise to the bait. Sarah had apparently decided that a campaign of passive resistance wasn't going to convince her to let her attend culinary school. Instead, she had recently embarked on a series of heavy-handed hints, designed to let her mother know that she expected her support.

"So how was class today?" she asked Alex, changing the subject.

"All right," her son grunted sullenly.

Rachel stifled a sigh. Her son was smart, good-looking, wonderful with people, and completely opposed to pursuing a conventional college education. Despite sparkling test scores, his grades in high school were so mediocre that he couldn't get into a quality university. In desperation, Rachel had pushed him to enroll in the College of DuPage, a local community college. There, she hoped, he could find some direction. If his grades improved, he could transfer to a good school, like Northwestern, the University of Chicago, or her own alma mater, the University of Illinois.

Unfortunately, Alex seemed as determined to piss away his chances in college as he had been in high school. After taking a year off, he was twenty-one and at the end of his second year. His grades remained stubbornly unimpressive, and his only interest seemed to be the school's theater department. Rachel had explained, with long-suffering patience, how slim the chances were of him being able to make a living as a professional actor. But her pleas had fallen on deaf ears.

"Sarah told me you were practicing some lines," she said, unwilling to have another argument about Alex's lack of ambition. "Who is Iago?"

For the first time, Alex showed a sign of life. "He's the villain from Othello," he said.

Rachel frowned. She had never been much interested in the arts. One more reason why her marriage had foundered three years ago. "Othello," she repeated. "That's one of Shakespeare's, right?"

Alex nodded enthusiastically, his dinner forgotten. "It's about jealousy and envy and suspicion. Iago is angry that he's been passed over for a promotion. So he sets out to destroy Othello's life by convincing him that his wife, Desdemona, is having an affair. None of it is true. He drives a good man to murder just because he can." Alex grinned evilly, the expression transforming his usually pleasant face to a frightening mask. "He's horrible."

"Why..." Rachel floundered. "Why would you want to play a character who is such a terrible person?"

"Well," Alex's eyes glinted. "The devil has the best tunes, doesn't he? Good people are boring. Evil people, you can really dig into them. Who is the most interesting character in the Harry Potter books?" he asked.

"Harry?" ventured Rachel, knowing it was a rhetorical question. Her lips twitched, watching Alex's intent face.

"Hermione?" said Sarah.

"Pssht," Alex scoffed. "Hermione is a bossy know-it-all. Harry is a goody little two-shoes. It's Snape. Even though he turns out to be a good guy at the end, you spend five or six books trying to figure out his motivation."

Rachel smiled, caught up in his energy. "The play sounds interesting. When do you guys start?"

"We're rehearsing already," her son said. "Opening night is in about two weeks." He dropped his head and stared at his lap. "I would really like it if you would come and watch, Mom."

Not wanting to encourage Alex in his pipe-dream, Rachel opened her mouth to give a polite refusal. Then she paused.

~What harm can it do?~ The thought crossed her mind suddenly. ~Look at the poor kid. How many times have you hurt him because you were too damn stubborn to give in? He isn't the only one who has been a mule-headed pain in the ass. How long will you keep trying to shove a round peg into a square hole?~

"I would love to," she said instead. Across the table, Sarah dropped her fork and stared at her in amazement. "Just give me a couple days' notice so I can be sure I leave work on time to drive over to COD."

Alex nodded, his eyes happily stunned. "I will."

Rachel picked up her wine glass and took a sip. "So, tell me more about this play."

*****

Later that evening, Rachel walked upstairs to her bedroom. She had spent a good part of the evening in her home office, going over the case while the kids watched TV.

She felt...good, she decided. Her home had been in a state of cold war for so long that any easing of the tension was welcome.

Was that all it needed, she thought. For me to show Alex I cared? Look how happy that made him. I still think he should buckle down and actually try in his classes, but if I can make my son happy, I should. God knows nothing else has worked. If we don't mend fences, he is going to leave once he get his degree from COD. He might take off for New York or LA, and I would barely ever see him. Although there are a lot of theaters downtown. The Goodman, Second City...maybe I should mention that to him sometime soon.

*****

Meanwhile, in the depths of Rachel's mind, Althea, daughter of Lilith, first among the succubi, hid in shame. If she had had a body, it would be shaking with terror and rage.

How had she come to such an indignity? Pulled out of her own magnificent body through sheer carelessness, forced to join with a puerile youth whose very soul was a foul sewer, and then, in desperation, made to abandon that dying vessel in order to take shelter in the mind of a woman who seemed all but sexless. She fumed as she considered her situation. Right now she had less strength than a newly-hatched imp. It would be weeks before she could even think about reclaiming her old body.

~How could I let this happen? Just because no one had attacked me in centuries did not mean the old knowledge was lost! Lilith's Tits, Althea, you are supposed to be smarter than this! Why did you stop warding yourself?~

The first step, she decided, was to begin to regain her power. Her reserves were terrifyingly low. The madness of the evening, with transfers of her consciousness to two separate humans, had drained her to the point where she was on the edge of dissolution, barely able to make her voice heard to her host. Without the pleasures of the flesh her previous form had made so readily available, she was now wholly dependent on Rachel.

And Rachel, she thought, was not the most promising of vessels. Even her sins were cold and bloodless, without heat or passion. They were the quiet coups of the courtroom; the polite wars of motions and lawsuits. No blistering anger of Rage; no insatiable hunger of Gluttony; no seductive poison of Envy.

And certainly, no unquenchable fire of Lust.

~All right,~ she thought grimly, borrowing Rachel's eyes as she undressed for bed. ~Let's see what sort of hand I've been dealt here.~

What she saw pleased her beyond all expectations. While no human could compare to a succubus in her true form, Rachel was far more attractive than most of her species. Her face was pale from lack of sunlight, but nevertheless more than adequate for her needs. Her legs, once they emerged from beneath her casual slacks, were firm and toned. Unlike too many humans in this sedentary age, she had not allowed her body to run to fat, but instead kept it slim and well-exercised.

Althea held her non-existent breath as Rachel unhooked her bra. ~Very nice,~ she sighed. ~Very nice, indeed.~ Althea was pleased to see that her breasts, while not overly large, were full and well-proportioned, with attractive pink nipples, and not the floppy, droopy dugs of too many women her age. While they had a slight sag from nursing her babes, they were still firm and lovely. Rachel massaged one of them, rubbing at the mark a cup had left on the sweet mound. A tiny trickle of pleasure flowed through her mind, and Althea tapped it greedily, sighing as she regained an infinitesimal amount of power.

~She will do,~ she thought. ~Yes, she will do very well.~ An exciting thought struck her. It had been ages since she had involved herself in the affairs of men. For centuries, she had been content to wander the earth, taking lovers when and how she pleased, smug with the certainty of her own immortality. The taste of her unending lust had been sweet on her lips. But over the past year, seemingly chance events had swelled into a flood. Magic and the old ways of worship were pushing their way back into the world. She had watched with amusement as two ancient gods had joined forces in Iowa, of all places, resulting in the arising of the Greek Unorthodox Church. Dedicated to love and sexual pleasure, it was growing beyond all expectation. With the winds of change sweeping the earth, was it time for her to take on a new task?

~What a disciple she would make for me.~ Her short stay in Rachel's mind had shown her the fierce strength of her intellect. Althea had been pleased to influence her where her son was concerned. Tapping into her compassion had allowed her to see the way she was driving Alex away. If she could turn that intelligence to her own ends, who knew how high they could fly together? She riffled through Rachel's memories, looking for suitable partners.

~Yes,~ she gloated. If she had possessed hands, she would have been rubbing them together in gleeful anticipation. ~This is going to be fun!~

*****

Rachel dropped her silk robe to the floor. The warm air of the bathroom felt good on her skin. For a moment, she glanced at the shower, but decided that tonight she deserved a bath. Six feet long and three feet wide, made of pink marble, it was the one piece of true decadence in her home, and she and her husband had spent many pleasurable hours in it together. She turned on the water, and while the tub was filling, placed a folded towel on the headrest at one end. She uncapped a bottle of bath oil and poured in a generous dollop. In moments, aromatic steam was rising towards the ceiling.

She stepped into the sunken bathtub, the lip only a few inches above the floor of the bathroom, blessing whoever had built the house. The hot, oily water lapped around her skin, and she sighed in luxurious comfort as she submerged herself. In seconds, the only parts of her that were above the water were her face and her chest.

For a long time, she simply soaked with her eyes closed, feeling the tension of the day, with its horrifying conclusion, slowly leach out of her body. She felt relaxed, serene and calm as a summer afternoon. The heat of the water sank below her skin, loosening tight muscles. Faint and far away, she could hear the murmur of the television and the sound of her own children, cheerfully bickering downstairs.

At last she stirred herself and reached for a loofah and a bottle of body wash. She slowly lathered her body, enjoying the feel of the warm, scented soap on her skin. As she did, she examined her body critically. Not bad for an old lady, she thought with some pride. Well, not really old. Only forty-one. What was it Beatriz said at my birthday party at the firm last year? That forty is the new thirty? I just wish I was getting as much cock now as I did when I was thirty. She blushed guiltily. But the sad fact was that she had been all but celibate since she and Joshua had separated. God knew the two of them had their differences, but the sex had always been good between the two of them.

And the make-up sex after a fight had been fucking spectacular. She sighed as she remembered his hands, warm and gentle on her skin. The way he had always seemed to know exactly where to touch her. The feel of his hard penis as he thrust into her over and over and over again.

With a start, she realized one hand had drifted between her legs. The other was caressing her breasts. She watched, entranced, as her nipples peaked, the hard pink tips showing above the sweet-scented water like islands in a warm southern sea.

I should get up and go to bed, she thought. It's no good laying here until the water gets cold.

~Stay.~ said another voice. ~It's still early yet. And you can always add more hot water. Don't you deserve a little pleasure? How long has it been since you had a really good orgasm? If you get out now you'll just be all worked up and frustrated. Stay here and get yourself off, and then you can get a good night's sleep.~

She sighed in acquiescence and closed her eyes again. One leg lifted, draping over the rim of the tub, drizzling oily water on the tile floor. With the skill of long practice, her right hand moved down, ring and index fingers expertly parting her folds, allowing her middle finger to tap on her clitoris.

Joshua had always found that funny, she remembered with a dreamy smile. The way her clit best responded not to strokes, kisses, or licks, but to gentle taps. He had joked about learning Morse code, and sending her sexy messages with his fingers on her clitoris.

"Knock knock," she whispered, her thoughts hazy. "Come out and play." As her fingertip gently tapped her bud, her hips jerked slightly, sending ripples of water splashing against the sides of the bathtub. Her left hand, meanwhile, was roaming all over her body, from her throbbing nipples to her flat belly, then back up her chest to her face. She caught one finger in her mouth, imagining it a cock, sucking and licking it until her partner exploded onto her face, sending rivers of his come over her swollen lips.

She moaned happily. Yes, that was what she needed. A man, a hard man, thick and virile and ready to go to bed at a moment's notice. A man who would coat her body with his beautiful, pearly seed so she could rub it all over herself. A man to fill the aching emptiness inside her. God, even a woman might do! Women had fingers, and tongues, and could use a dildo or a vibrator on her, couldn't they? Her hand left her face, squeezing her breast, the thumb and forefinger pinching the high-standing nipple. Her head bent, wanting to take the pebble-hard bud into her mouth and lash it with her tongue.

She sank back with a frustrated moan. Too small. Her tits were too small to do what she wanted. And it had been too long. Too long since she had been with a man. Her right hand changed positions. Two fingers opened her passage, while it was now her thumb's turn to tap out the message of desire.

"It isn't a cock," she whispered, "but it will do for now." Slowly, lovingly, she thrust her fingers into her channel. All the while, her other hand played with her breasts, dancing from one passion-swollen peak to the next, stroking and kneading and pinching until she thought she would scream.

Her climax grew slowly, as if it were out of practice and unused to her demands. She slowed down, keeping her eyes closed. Memories of her teenage years flitted through her mind. Times when she had hurried home from school, horny and itchy, desperate to reach orgasm. And then the long, frustrated wait in her bedroom as she fought her own body's needs. She had learned to her dismay that an orgasm could rarely be forced. It had to be earned.

"Relax," she breathed, repeating the mantra she had taught herself when she was fifteen. The word whispered through the muggy air of the bathroom. "Relax and concentrate. There, doesn't that feel good?" she cooed, as she caught the rhythm of desire. Her hips rocked up and down, her hungry sheath swallowing her fingers. Even through the water, she could feel the walls of her vagina slickening.

"Almost there," she gasped. "Almost...there!" She threw her left arm across her mouth to muffle her happy shriek as she came. Her fingers dove deep within her, her thumb mashed down on her clit. Her hips bounced up once, twice, then a third time, locking in place and sending a spray of water high into the air.

Whoa, she thought, when she finally opened her eyes. That was nice.

~Yes. It was.~ The voice in her head sounded smug. And not, Rachel thought, the way her own thoughts usually sounded. She shrugged, smiling, watching her breasts bounce with the movement, and used her toes to pull the plug-chain. She stood as the water slowly drained out of the tub and looked with some dismay at the mess she had made of the bathroom.

Well, I guess I've given Maria something to do tomorrow, she thought as she dried off. Rachel didn't entirely approve of having a maid, but the huge house and her own grueling workload made doing her own housework impractical. Maria Ochoa came in three times a week to clean the house and do laundry. For their part, she and the kids tried to keep the place as neat as they could, but they left things like vacuuming, dusting, and mopping to the ever-competent Maria. Rachel personally considered her a godsend, as her one attempt at having the kids do the laundry had resulted in disaster.

She sopped up the water as best she could with a spare towel, then hung both towels on a rack to dry. Making her way back to her bedroom, she dressed in her robe and studied her reflection in the mirror. She looked heavy-lidded and content, something she had not seen in far too long.

Maybe I should do it again, she thought. Almost without her thinking her hands undid the belt of her robe and fingered her nether-lips. They were still wet, hot and slippery under her eager touch.

Just before she could flop on her bed and bring herself to another climax, a knock sounded at her door. She blinked, then walked over to open it.

"Are you okay, Mom?" Sarah asked. Her normally cheerful face looked slightly worried. "I was downstairs and I heard some thumping. I wanted to make sure you hadn't fallen down or anything."

~Such a good child. Perhaps we should give her a reward.~

Rachel smiled at her. "I'm just fine, honey. You know how it is." She lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Sometime a girl needs some...alone time. Especially when there aren't any men around to keep her company."

Sarah's eyes widened as her mother's words sank in. "God, Mom!" She ducked her head, giggling, even as her face flamed scarlet. "That's a little TMI, don't you think?"

"What, to know your mother has a sex drive? I don't think so. I'm not a nun, you know."

"Well, no, I know that, Mom, but..." she trailed off.

Rachel smiled. "Let me guess," she said. "It's one thing to know it, but another thing to know it?"

Sarah laughed. "Right. I mean, I know old people have sex, but..." her eyes widened in alarm and she clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, God," she said. "I didn't mean for it to sound that way. You're not old, Mom. And two of my last three boyfriends thought you were totally hot!"

"Well, what was wrong with the third one?" Rachel grinned. "Was he gay?

"Don't worry, sweetheart," she continued, laying a hand on her daughter's cheek. "I know what you meant. And I'm glad you cared enough to come up and check on me." As if under someone else's control, the hand which had just recently been deep in her womanly core trailed across Sarah's lips. She leaned forward and kissed her cheek.