Mothers and Daughters Pt. 13

Nate paid the bill and they walked back to the hotel. It was nearly ten o'clock when they entered the room. Martha was still tired from the jet lag, and she wanted to put in an early night. Flying in from the same time zone left Nate fully charged, not to mention his nap in the afternoon. In the hotel room, Martha casually stripped off her clothing and changed into her nightgown in front of him, then she went to the bathroom. "One advantage of already having every possible kind of sex with you already," Martha observed, as she stepped out of the bathroom, "is we we're passed that awkward sexual anxiety."

"Right," Nate nodded. "Now the anxiety is just the good kind."

Martha half smiled, and then frowned. "I'm not sure I know what you mean," she critiqued.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I still feel a sexual tension between us, but a good one."

"Yeah," Martha nodded lightly and then kissed him gently on the lips. "I'm going to bed."

"Good night," Nate kissed her again. "I'm going to take my laptop down to the sitting room downstairs. I'll take the key, if that's okay with you."

"Sure," she pointed to the built-in shelf at the far left end of the bed headboard, "it's right there." He looked over. It was a hotel relic - an actual key. Nate couldn't remember the last time he'd stayed in a hotel that still used mechanical keys.

As she tucked herself under the covers, Nate retrieved his laptop case from the far side of the bed. He leaned over the bed and kissed her one last time, and she kissed him back. He turned out the lights, and slipped out the door, locking it with the key.

On the main floor was a combined sitting and breakfast room. It was empty at this hour. Nate found a table near a power outlet, and connected his laptop. He didn't know the wifi code for the hotel, so he left the room, walked over to the lobby, and asked at the front desk. A polite young man with sandy brown hair and round glasses knew just enough English to understand Nate's question. He wrote down the wifi name and password on a hotel notepad, and tore off the top sheet, and handed it to Nate. Nate returned to the sitting room, and connected his laptop to the wifi.

Shortly after he started reading his news clippings, the same clerk entered the room. Using his fractured English, he asked Nate if he would like a drink. The man explained through gestures and single words that Nate was to help himself to anything at the bar, and write down what he took on the ledger. It was an honor system that probably lost less money than it cost for an extra staff. Nate helped himself to some local Italian red wine, wrote down his name and Martha's room number, and made a mental note to pay Martha for the drink that would show up on her hotel bill.

Nate spent nearly an hour reading news and email. Then he put away his personal laptop, and pulled his work laptop out of the other side of the case. After passing through all the security challenges, he connected that laptop to the wifi, and started wading through dozens of emails. Before he knew it, it was past one in the morning. He returned his wine glass to the bar, which he had refilled twice, and packed up his laptops.

Upstairs, Nate unlocked the door as silently as he could, and softly entered the room. "It's me" he whispered into the darkness, not wanting to wake her, but if the opening door already awoke her, he didn't want her to fear who was entering her chamber. There was no reply.

Nate carefully put his laptop case down next to the door, making no noise, and then locked the door again. He stripped off his clothing, and piled his things on top of the laptop case. Then he tiptoed two steps across the carpet, and found the bed. There was barely enough light to see the outline of her body under the covers, so he pulled the blankets back on his side and slipped into the bed.

The double bed felt tiny compared to Nate's king size mattress. He lay on his back with his arms folded tight against his sides, trying not to disturb Martha. She was lying on her side with her back to him. Nate closed his eyes, and waited for a sleep that didn't come.

Maybe ten or fifteen minutes passed while Nate lay perfectly still. Except for her silent breathing, Martha hadn't made a noise or moved a bit. And then, "Nate" she whispered, with her back to him.

"Yeah," he whispered back casually, not sure why they were whispering anymore.

"Am I an unfit mother?" Unfit is one of those strange words. It means out of shape, slightly off, or not exactly right. Unless it refers to parenting. Then, 'unfit' is one of the most repulsive, sickening words known to anyone who has raised children.

"What?" Nate asked more loudly now. He turned on his side to face her, but she kept her back to him. "Look, Briana is twenty eight years old. That had nothing to do with parenting."

"No," Martha spoke softly now, just above a whisper. "I'm not talking about that, or at least," she qualified, "not only that." Martha paused. "Briana told me some awful things - things she did when she was younger. She told me she did them because of me - because of who I am."

Nate thought for a long time in the dark. "I don't know what these things are," he finally offered, "so I can't comment on the specifics. But Martha," he offered sincerely, "you are a caring, loving parent with only the best of intentions. I'm pretty sure that goes a long way to making you a fit parent." He paused for a moment longer. "Do you want to tell me about it?"

Martha rolled over to face him. As she did, he moved his arm below her head, letting her rest her head on his shoulder. He actually did it because the bed was so small, but he realized it also added a nice touch of intimacy and caring. As she placed her head on his bare shoulder, he was certain he felt tear drops fall onto his skin.

"Have you been crying all night?" he asked softly, stroking her hair gently.

"No," she sniffled. "I woke up maybe an hour ago, and I couldn't sleep. My mind just started racing, and it kind of crashed here."

Nate nodded absentmindedly in the dark. "Do you feel like talking about it?"

"Not the details," she warned quietly.

"Okay," Nate offered, trying to say his next words perfectly. "I'm here for you - for whatever you feel comfortable in sharing. I promise I won't judge you."

Martha stayed silent for so long that Nate thought she had either changed her mind or fallen asleep. "Briana told me when she was a teenager - I think maybe sixteen," Martha finally broke the silence, "she had boyfriends who asked her to do things."

Nate had no idea where this was going. He remained quiet until the pause became awkward. "Are you able to tell me any more?" he asked gently.

"She tells me she didn't actually do anything, until the day she turned eighteen. Then she would have ..." she couldn't finish. Nate continued stroking her hair supportively. "Nate," she sobbed out loud, "she had sex with them while they fantasized about me."

That was so weird. Nate wasn't sure how to respond. He thought about he would feel if Sarah confessed that to him. How did Nate feel knowing Briana was babysitting his kids? "You must have felt horrible when she told you that," he offered.

"Oh God Nate!" she burst open crying now. "There were days I wanted to die. I feel like I molested my own ..." She couldn't finish the sentence.

Nate wrapped his free arm around her shoulders and hugged her tight while she sprinkled his shoulder with new tears. Now he understood her question about being an unfit parent.

"Did you do anything to encourage it," Nate asked. He was pretty sure he knew the answer.

"No!" she nearly screamed. "I didn't even know it was happening. She never told me until we were in Hamburg together."

"Did you have any reason to suspect anything like that might be happening?" She just shook her head no on his shoulder.

Nate got up off the bed and turned on the light. "Why are you naked?" Martha asked.

"I couldn't find my stuff in the dark," Nate replied casually, and then considered maybe this was not the perfect moment for him to be nude. He went around the bed to his suitcase, retrieved some underpants and a T shirt, and pulled them on. By now Martha was sitting up with tear stains streaming down her cheeks. Her hair was a knotted mess.

Nate sat back on the bed. "I turned the light on because I want you to see my face," Nate told her quietly. She sat in silence while Nate climbed back on the bed. He cupped her face with both his hands, and said "Martha, I am going to tell you the most important thing you will ever hear in your life." He waited until she half nodded mutedly. "Martha," Nate declared boldly, his words annunciated slowly, "it ... was ... not ... your ... fault."

Martha looked into his eyes, and she saw the fire. She saw the same fire when he told her earlier today he did not want her to leave. She saw the fire that killed the depraved degenerate who aimed to sadistically rape and mutilate her precious daughter. She saw the fire of an elite warrior who never breaks his promises. And in that instant, Martha realized she saw the sacred fire that burned for his lost soulmate, Stephanie.

Martha burst into a loud wail of uncontainable grief. She wept heavily, her shoulders heaving loud breaths as Nate wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. She rested her hands on his shoulders, too weak to hug him back. Her loud sobbing slowly moderated over the next few minutes until she was mostly sniffling. He continued holding without speaking.

Several minutes later, Martha was at last regaining her composure. She drew a deep, cleansing sigh when a loud three-strike knock came at the door. Nate jumped off the bed, went to his suitcase, and pulled out a long flashlight - the kind cops use. Then he retrieved four D sized batteries from the suitcase side pocket, loaded them into the round handle, and screwed the cap back on. He held the heavy flashlight in his right hand, and walked toward the door when a second knock sounded, now with a commanding sounding Italian voice.

Nate put his foot behind the door with his bare toe pointing upward, so if they tried forcing the door open, he could brace it shut without breaking his foot. He held the flashlight behind the door with his right hand, out of sight of whomever was knocking on the other side. He unlocked the door with his left hand, and opened it a crack. Nate dragged his right foot forward and pressed his big to against it, not allowing the door to open any further. It was the same sandy haired desk clerk with glasses from downstairs. This time, a much larger man stood behind him, who wore a dark blue nylon coat and a dark blue cap with the English word "SECURITY" embossed across the front in white letters.

"Much noise," the Italian clerk said. "Problema?" he asked.

Nate thought a moment. "Five secondi," he held up his five fingers, hoping he remembered the right word for seconds. He closed the door, and put the flashlight down beside his laptop case. He put on his pants, and then he pulled out his smartphone, and called up Google Translate on the web app. He typed in "just received news of a family emergency," and Nate opened the door again, this time wider. He showed the two men the smartphone display - notizie appena ricevuto di un'emergenza di famiglia - and instantly their demeanor melted from professional nuisance control to personal sympathy. Nate opened the door wider again, and they saw Martha sitting on the bed with her tear stained face and tousled hair.

"So sorry," the Italian clerk said to Nate, and then he repeated it louder through the door to Martha. Nate closed the door.

"What did you do?" she asked him, not hearing him say anything to them.

"I told them you just received word of a family emergency," Nate explained, holding up the Google translated Italian message. Martha posed her chin as she nodded appreciatively, wondering if she could have thought that quickly on her feet if she weren't such a blathering idiot.

"Are you telling me I cried so loud they called security?" Nate nodded with a grin. "Oh God," she buried her head in her hands. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be," Nate soothed, and sat down on the bed beside her. "You know I spoke the truth, right?" Her eyes welled up, and her throat tightened into a lump. She couldn't speak. She squinted her eyes into scrunched slits to prevent herself from crying again, but the tears flowed anyway. "You know I spoke the truth, right," Nate repeated more forcefully. This time he looked directly into her eyes. She looked back, and saw the fire again. Martha nodded and burped out a single sob.

Nate held her tight, and she cried again, this time softly. When the tears finally stopped, Martha rose off the bed and went to the bathroom, leaving the door open. She washed her face and looked in the mirror, and was shocked by the horrid state of her hair. As she brushed out the maze of tangles, Martha realized the running water made her need to pee. When she finished her hair, Martha closed the door and tinkled on the toilet while Nate stripped off his pants, and climbed on top of the bed.

Martha opened the bathroom door, and kneeled upright at the foot of the bed, facing the headboard. She stiffened her back and let herself tip forward on her knees without bracing herself, falling like a tree, until she bounced face first into the mattress with a soft thump. Nate got up again and turned out the light. He climbed back into bed, and lay on his back. She rolled onto her side, facing him, rested her arm over his chest, and then gently pulled his face toward him. She kissed him tenderly, and they held each other's kiss in the darkness for many seconds.

"Goodnight my warped motherfucker," she whispered gently after she pulled away.

"Goodnight," he whispered back. She snuggled against him and let out a sigh.

Sometime later Nate became aware of her in the night. He had fallen asleep. She rolled over, and that had awoken him. The double bed left little room for movement. He fell back asleep. As the subconscious mind goes, it seemed to Nate like only a few minutes later, but was in fact seven hours, she woke him again with her movement, but this one was different. It felt more purposeful.

He felt her hand slip down his underpants and wrap her slender fingers around his sleeping cock, and Nate was instantly awake. She squeezed his member, and then slowly started jerking him. He opened his eyes and saw her kneeling naked beside him. She flashed him a quick smile, and then she leaned forward, and took his growing manhood into her warm mouth. She sucked him hard for a few strokes, firming Nate to full girth.

Martha pulled away, and tugged at his underpants. Nate indulged her by lifting his hips, and she slipped them off his legs. "Slide down the bed," she whispered, and he obeyed, scooting a couple of feet toward the foot of the bed, bending his knees to keep his feet on the mattress. "Someone once told me you love a 69 blowjob in the morning," she whispered, and without another word, she straddled her legs over his head, and lowered her pelvis toward his face while she pivoted forward and drew Nate's mission ready love tool between her lips.

Martha wasted no time. She sucked eagerly around the head while rubbing an encircled finger and thumb up and down the shaft. Nate returned the favor by flicking his tongue between her pussy lips, until he tired of teasing her and jammed his tongue up her fuck hole as far as it would go. He felt his balls rumble to life as Nate pulled out and started teasing her clitoris. She rewarded her efforts with a welcome groan and quickened her sucking tempo.

Nate brought reinforcements in, and started rimming her rosebud with his finger while he continued focusing his tongue on her pussy. Without lube, he couldn't penetrate her ass, but he played with the puckered sphincter which seemed to bring more moans of appreciation from the far end.

Nate's balls were building a serious overpressure with Martha's relentless oral ministrations. Nate brought his other hand in, and began fingering her pussy while flicking his tongue over her clit. He continued rimming her rosebud with his right hand. Martha redoubled her efforts with the Nate's erotic trifecta, and his balls approached critical mass.

He felt his pre-release trigger, and Nate pressed his tongue hard against her clit and drove his finger up her fuck hole just as his love cannon fired its first salvo into her sucking mouth. She sucked harder, drawing the nectar out of his pulsing member. Nate ejaculated four more waves into her warm mouth. After his last convulsive fountain, Martha swallowed him down and dismounted his head, careful not to kick him as she spun around. She turned around with her feet toward the bottom of the bed, and lay down, resting her head on Nate's shoulder.

Nate pulled the bed sheets over both of them, and he wrapped his arms around her, and they lay entangled in blissful silence. Nate must have dozed off, because he awoke when she moved her head on his shoulder. "I gotta say," he ventured, "I like this Italian wake-up ceremony." She smiled and kissed him.

"Breakfast and a run?" she asked.

"What time is it?"

"Probably about six. I'm still on home time, so I've been awake for a while."

"I saw a park nearby on the Google map," he offered.

"Yeah," she nodded, "the little round one."

"We could circle it a hundred times," he smiled.

"Let's get some breakfast," she prodded him with her finger, and stood up. Nate watched her pad naked to the bathroom, remembering his last day with her in Rugen, wondering if he'd ever see her body again. She closed the door behind her. Nate decided he'd shower after their run. He got up and dressed. When Martha came out the bathroom, it made us of it himself.

They walked downstairs together. The early bird breakfast crowd had nearly filled the same sitting room Nate used his laptop in the night before. More people were sitting at tables on an outdoor patio Nate hadn't noticed in the darkness. They found the last indoor free table in the corner of the small room.

A six item postcard sized menu was printed on both sides in Italian, German, French, and English. One of the items was a help yourself buffet, where Nate spied some pastries, fruit, and cereal. A cross looking, stout Italian woman in her late fifties with dark hair and a slight limp crossed the room to their table. Nate pointed to item 3 on the menu - a cheese omelette. Martha ordered the buffet pastries, and they both ordered espresso coffees.

Five minutes later, their coffee arrived, and a tall man in his mid-fifties and balding hair walked over to their table. Nate guessed was a manager. His English was reasonably good. "Good morning," the man smiled nervously at both Nate and Martha.

"Good morning!" Martha cheered back.

"We are very sorry," he apologized. "Will you be checking out today." He seemed to be tell them more than asking.

"No!" Martha blurted out. "I paid for six days."

"Oh, but of course," he bowed, "I will give you money back. We are very sorry."

"I don't understand," Martha became cross. "You're kicking us out. This is wrong!" she nearly shouted. Other patrons stopped talking and turned their heads toward Martha's raised voice. The man grew very agitated, spun on his heel, and left without another word. "What a strange little man," she complained after he left, even though he was quite tall.

"I'm guessing," Nate ventured, "he was referring to Uncle Snuffy."

"Uncle Snuffy?" Martha asked, firing an accusing look across the table to him.

"You remember Uncle Snuffy," Nate smiled, anticipating the next moment, "you know - the family emergency last night."

"Oh my God!" Martha's eyes burst open with shock as she drew her hands to her mouth. "Oh, they must think I am a cruel, heartless bitch!" She closed her eyes and buried her face in her hands. Now playing back the conversation in her head, she realized how accommodating the manager was being - he was offering to refund her non-refundable advance payment for the hotel room. "I feel horrible," she spoke into her hands.