Mom, That Was You?

She'd kill the time by taking a quick shower, let the hot water soothe her aching arms and back, then get dressed and leave. She carefully found her way across the room to the door which she could dimly make out as a slightly lighter rectangle of black.

Carla entered the room and fumbled on the wall for a switch hoping they'd left at least one bulb in there. What if someone needed to use the damn bathroom? To her relief one of the three small bulbs flickered to life over the medicine cabinet.

It was dim, leaving most of the room in darkness, but enough for her to find the shower and be able to get into it without tripping. Carla turned the knob for the hot water, leaving her hand under the stream as she waited for it to heat up.

A flash of light caught the corner of her eye and she looked to her left. The cardboard on the outside of the window had fallen, leaving the right corner of the window uncovered.

They must not have taped it securely enough. Carla cocked her head when she heard voices and remembered the bathroom faced the back lot. It's not like she'd be able to guess who was with her if she saw anyone, but she'd get a glimpse of one or more of them and have some fun wondering if they were her lover, or who had been with which of her friends.

"Behave," she whispered, her voice barely carrying over the running water.

Right, like playing a sex game in the dark where she'd been fucked by a boy her son's age was behaving. Carla shut the water off and flipped the switch, plunging the room back into darkness.

She made her way to the window and peeked around the cardboard. She saw two young men standing there talking excitedly. One was tall and on the thinner side, that wasn't who had been with her.

The other was shorter, and wearing a baseball cap, but his plain black t-shirt stretched over a pair of broad shoulders and hugged an impressive set of biceps; him? Carla heard another voice to her right and peered over that way, two more boys were talking, one leaning against the back of an old pickup.

An old black Ford Ranger.

"Oh, my god," her stomach twisted into a tight knot as she made out the large dent in the left rear panel over the tire. The dent that had been made when someone ran a stop sign and clipped the back end of it last year.

If there was any doubt, the tall ruggedly built young man leaning against it dressed in jeans and a gray tank top that showed off a heavily tattooed upper arm turned to look over at the other boys, giving her a clear view of his face.

Carla snapped her head away from the window so fast she staggered back and would have fallen had her hip not painfully struck the edge of the sink.

It was Brandon!

Chapter Five

"One out of six, one out of six," Carla repeated the litany as she drove down 95 towards home. "Just under 17%," she nodded nervously as she tried to reason with her racing mind.

Right, one in six, not great odds if it was in the perspective of chances to win something. But when that percentage was used in wondering if it was your son who'd just fucked your brains out, they were not soothing in the least.

She squirmed in her seat, grimacing as her dress peeled away from the sticky cum still on her back.

One in six chance it was her son's cum.

"Oh, god, please," she whispered, wiping at her eyes as they filled for the dozenth time since she'd left the motel.

After knowing without a doubt it was Brandon, Carla skipped the shower, skipped even wiping herself off, left the bathroom and all but threw herself on the floor, searching for her clothes.

Her heart pounding, and her stomach slowly turning, she had to fight off waves of nausea as she found her dress and pulled it on, bra and panties be damned, some perv cleaning guy could have them as a souvenir. As soon as she located her shoes, she slipped them on and fumbled under the bed for her purse where she paused long enough to drop the medallion into it and turn on her phone.

She left the room just in time to run into Georgia who was bringing her back the lamp and a small box of lightbulbs. She asked Carla if everything was okay, and in a flash of inspiration driven by desperation, she said she'd turned her phone back on to see a text from Brandon that something was wrong at home.

A perfect lie, one that gave her an excuse to leave looking flustered after what was supposed to be a hot time, and putting him at home, not at the motel. Not that anyone would think he was there, but God, what if someone ended up seeing his pickup?

The boys were told not to stick around beyond a few minutes which was why the women were supposed to wait a half hour before leaving. She only saw him because of the tape giving way on a corner of the cardboard, so no one should have seen him, but her fevered mind kept playing worst case scenario.

Viv was probably the only one that would recognize his truck, or Brandon himself, not Carla hung out much with the other women, but she did post a lot of picks of her son on her Facebook page.

One thing at a time. Everything else was nothing compared to the possibility she'd fucked her son. Why had she looked out the damn window? If she hadn't, she'd be dwelling in blissful ignorance and savoring some of the best sex of her life.

She'd be at the bar with the rest of the girls bragging about how good she'd gotten it, how good of a lover he'd been...but no, now she was racing home sick to her stomach and wondering what she should do.

Carla knew she should have said no. No had been the right response to Viv all along, but she'd let herself get talked into it. Viv played on everything from her needing it to it getting her back in the saddle to a form of revenge sex, she'd caved, and this is the price she paid for the lapse in judgment.

As she drove, she tried in vain not to let the details keep playing in her mind in a disturbing loop. If that was Brandon.... she'd blown him, swallowed his damn load. His fingers had been inside her, worse, he'd had a finger in her ass!

He'd fucked her hard and rough and in several positions, she'd cum in his face! His goddamn cum was all over her back and ass and, God, she could still taste him in her mouth!

"Stop, stop, please stop!" she begged herself aloud.

What now? He had no idea she was there, the women parked along the side of the motel in spots reserved by Robin that were usually staff only. But if he'd driven around the wrong way, he might have seen it.

No, she'd been out of the room within five minutes of seeing him, he'd probably still been in the back bragging to his friends about the wild milf he'd fucked the shit out of. The milf that had a one in six shot of being his mother.

"Okay," she took a deep breath. "Slow the roll."

Carla forced herself to think rationally about what had the potential to be one of life's crueler jokes. First, anyone else realizing they were both there. Despite her panic, those odds were a lot better than 17%.

The boys had to be gone before the women were allowed to leave their rooms. Her car was out of site of the back lot and now that she managed to think clearly, she recalled there was a fence on that side of the building so they couldn't drive out that way.

She'd covered her ass with her lie about there being an issue at home. Explained her leaving in a hurry and looking upset. Viv would most likely call her shortly, and she'd make something up, and make it something Brandon overreacted to so she wouldn't have to create an emergency that Viv could mention to him down the line.

That left the biggest issue.

Was it him?

She could prove it, but to do it, she'd need the medallion he was given. If the room number didn't match, he'd been with one of her friends. Awkward, but far better than the alternative.

It would also be an issue just by her demanding the medallion and thereby admitting she was one of the women and her son knowing she'd done something that damned sleazy.

If he knew the other five guys, and he most likely did, he would have the disturbing knowledge one of his friends had fucked his mother. But as embarrassing and unnerving as her confronting him could be, if it wasn't him, it was far better than the alternative.

The alternative being if the room number matched. Then they'd know they'd slept with each other. Then what? How could they look at each other? Worse, how would they feel?

They had always been close, but since his father had run off, they'd grown much closer. Brandon was more than her son, he was more like a friend, someone she confided in, enjoyed spending time with, and neither had anyone in their life romantically in close to a year.

Brandon saw himself as a surrogate man of the house, trying to take care of the chores, help with the bills, and spent time with her so she wouldn't be lonely. His constant joking was for her benefit because he was worried she'd get depressed, and he continued to try and convince her to go have some fun.

Well, tonight she'd had some fun, and look where they were.

No, not they, she. If there was any silver lining it was that Brandon was oblivious. He had no idea she was there; no idea she knew he was there. Carla could keep this to herself, not burden him with any of it, especially if it were worst case scenario.

But could she live without knowing? The expression careful what you wish for was ringing loud in her mind. That and ignorance is bliss, and she was aware of what curiosity did to the cat.

Yet could she keep going with the odds being against it? Spend who knows how long looking at him and wondering? But if she pushed and it was him?

Damned if she did, damned if she didn't, except one way damned only her. She'd be doing the right thing for Brandon by letting this go and hoping once some time would pass she'd put it behind her.

Carla tapped the call button on the steering wheel. In just the few minutes since she'd seen him, her stomach was on fire, she kept fighting against the urge to throw up, her head was pounding, and she was shaking.

Sure, she could go home, shower, take something to help her sleep and hope she'd be better in the morning, but she had a feeling that wouldn't be the case. Maybe she could turn it around on him.

"Yeah," she nodded to herself as the idea played out.

She'd need to come up with a reason for seeing him at that motel. Then ask him what he was doing there. Corner him into admitting it, then try and question him, pick something out they'd done and see if he could describe it.

If he did, she'd know, but he still wouldn't.

Them falling off the bed, she could try to guide him to that. That would be more dishonest than not telling him, she'd be trying to make him feel bad over something he'd done, but she could play concerned mom.

"Honey, don't you know you shouldn't play games like that, I mean, what if you ended up fucking your mom?"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!" she slammed the heel of her palm into the steering wheel.

But this is what she'd do to herself unless she found out for sure. One in six, one in six. Carla swallowed hard and made her decision. She'd confront him, but own up to being there herself, she wouldn't make him feel guilty or wrong for being exactly where she was.

She would do what she had raised him to do. Own your shit and face your problems head on. Running or playing the blame game never worked out in the end.

Before she could change her mind, she spoke.

"Siri, call Brandon's cell,"

"Calling Brandon cell," the voice replied, and her grip tightened on the wheel as the phone rang. Who was to say he'd answer? Probably somewhere swapping sex stories with his friends. "God, this woman could suck cock! Deep throated me and swallowed every drop!"

"Hey, ma!" he answered on the third ring. "Everything okay?"

He was worried about her. Did she really need to do this?

Yes.

"Honey, where are you?"

"I'm hanging out with a few guys from the team."

"Sounds like you're driving." She could hear the loud exhaust over the phone.

"Uh, yeah, we met at Bill's house now we're heading out to shoot some pool."

"I need you home, now."

"Shit," he replied softly. "Mom, you okay?"

"No," she answered honestly. "I need to see you right away."

"Be there in fifteen."

"Thank you, honey," No hesitation at all, damn he was a good kid.

"Whatever you need, I'm here to make sure you get it."

"That's the problem." she thought bitterly.

Chapter Six

Carla walked into the house, planning on hurrying into her room to change before Brandon got home. Change and take a minute in the bathroom to at least wipe off the sticky mess her dress had smeared into her back in the car.

Her phone rang, and worrying it was him, she answered without looking.

"Yeah?"

"Hey!" It was Viv. "What happened? Georgia said you flew out of there like a bat out of hell!"

"Uh, yeah, no big deal, Brandon had a problem here, but he made it sound worse than it was."

"Must have made it sound bad, Georgia said you were white as a ghost and looked like you'd been crying." Viv paused. "Or were your eyes watering from something more fun?" she laughed. "You always said there wasn't a cock you couldn't deep throat."

"Got me," she said weakly.

"Well, if everything is cool at home, come on back and hang out with us, we're heading down to Billy's Frosted Mug to swap the dirty details."

"I think I'll just stay here."

"Why?"

"Because I'm home and kind of tired."

"Okay, what's wrong? You were never a good liar, and you sound like you're a nervous wreck. Something go wrong tonight?"

There's a one in six chance it went very wrong!

"No, I mean," she took a breath. Viv was her best friend and just showed she knew her too well to be able to keep denying anything was wrong.

"You mean what?" Viv sighed. "Something went wrong. Did you freeze up, was he an asshole?"

"Okay, this stays between us, right?"

"I'm insulted you would even think you had to say that." Viv sounded put off.

"Sorry, just on edge." Come on, the best lies were always ones mixed with some truth.

"Do you want me to come over? I'll call the girls and tell them I'll be late or catch them another time."

"No!" she said and probably too quickly. "Enjoy the rest of the night."

"Then tell me what happened."

"It went well, in fact I was thinking more than once how right you were and how I needed it."

"That would be great, except I hear a but coming."

"No but as far as it being a hot time. The but was when he left I went into the bathroom and the cardboard over the window had slid down on one side. I know I wasn't supposed to, but I peeked outside."

"Let me guess, you think you saw someone you know?"

Pretty sure I know my son

"I saw a car that belongs to one of Brandon's friends from school."

"Oh, well, he couldn't see you, so he doesn't know, and it doesn't mean he was with you anyway, there's a one in..."

"I know!" she snapped. "I've been telling myself that all the way home."

"So you lied."

"Huh?" Carla felt her stomach tighten.

"There was no home emergency, that's why you left."

"Got me," she tried to keep the relief out of her voice. "I just didn't want to say anything to Georgia."

"I get it, she blabs, but you could have trusted me from the start."

"You're right, just embarrassed. I wanted to get out of there quick because this kid's been here a few times and probably knows my car. That's why I looked rattled."

"I think you're overreacting, but" she laughed. "Is he hot?"

"He's hot alright," Carla muttered while thinking of Brandon. "Good looking kid."

"Then see it as an extra layer of dirty secret, even though it most likely wasn't him."

"Always the optimist."

"And somehow you even managed to find a way to put a damper on tonight. Carla, I love you, but you can fuck up a wet dream."

"Thanks," she jumped when she heard a car door outside. "I have to go, Brandon's coming home. Don't need him overhearing anything."

"Okay, I'm calling tomorrow morning and you best be ready to tell me all the juicy details and I'll tell you mine."

"Deal."

She ended the call without saying goodbye and shut the phone off. She heard Brandon entering the house and quickly sat down on the couch so he wouldn't see what she imagined would be a visible stain on the back of her dress.

A stain he may have been responsible for.

"Mom!" He burst in the room and came hurrying over. Before she could get a word out, he leaned over and gave her a hug. "You okay? What's wrong?"

She returned the hug tightly, her emotions and mind racing. If the worst had happened, who knew if she'd ever get this kind of hug from him again? But even as she gratefully held onto him, a feeling of dread came over her when she caught the scent of his cologne.

Cool Water. Doesn't mean it was him, she tried to tell herself, that brand was a top seller for young men his age, at least according to an article her magazine had put out last year.

He eased back from her but kept his hands on her shoulders. He looked down at her, and his eyes widened.

"Holy shit! What happened to you?"

"What?" The look of concern in his face had her confused.

"Your hairs a mess, got make up down your face and that means you've been crying and..." he stepped back from her and looked her up and down. "You're..." he hesitated a couple seconds. "Not wearing a bra and look at your knees!"

She looked down to see each knee featured a large patch of red raw skin. Carpet burn.

"Who did this to you?" he demanded.

The question caught her off guard.

"No one did."

"Mom," he spoke slowly, and she could hear the effort he was making to do so. "You said you were going out; you call me upset and you look like someone got rough with you."

"No, Brandon," Damn, why did the kid have to be so sharp? "Its..."

"Who did this?" he shouted suddenly, his eyes darkening and the veins standing out in his neck. "You tell me who hurt you and I'll break his fucking arms!"

"Honey, easy!" she put her hands up and saw they were shaking, and as much from him as the situation she was previously upset over.

He was always so easy going, but the look on his face was one of naked rage and he'd clenched his fists making the muscles in his forearms stand out. As she stared at she noticed red, crescent shaped marks just under his elbow. Marks from someone digging their nails into him.

"You can tell me, Mom. I won't get caught."

"No one hurt me!" she shouted to stop him from ranting. "I promise, that's not why I called you."

"You sure?" He looked at her dubiously. "You sounded really shaken up and you look," his eyes darted to her knees again and he frowned. "Oh," he whispered softly.

"Oh, what?"

"I get it, you went out and had some fun. But what went wrong?"

"I need you to sit down." She pointed to the other side of the couch. "We need to talk about something."

"I don't need the details," he kept looking at her knees and she imagined him trying to come to grips with the fact his mother had fucked someone hard enough to get rug burn.

"Where were you tonight?"

"Told you, some of the guys from the team were going out and invited me along."

Carla looked at him and thought of how close they were, how much he meant to her and how much she'd come to need him over the last year. The way he'd rushed home, ran over to comfort her, then went into an uncharacteristic fit of anger at the thought someone might have hurt her.

Her eyes dipped to his bare arms in the gray tank top, she noticed several scratches on the top of his shoulder. He wasn't the only one who was rough in the heat of the moment.

No, she didn't know for sure it was her. Viv had long nails, so did Robin and...Viv, what if he had been with her best friend? Better than being with her, that was for sure.