My Mom, the High End Escort Ch. 02

I drove to Brandon's house. It was already late, and his parents were up in the bedroom already. Brandon greeted me with a hug, showed me my room, and left me along per my ask. That night I did some more crying and even more sleeping. In the morning I felt revived for the first time since a long time.

Brandon's parents called me for breakfast downstairs. I felt strong enough to go (and to consider social etiquettes). We shared huge servings of scrambled eggs, grits, bacon and sausage, as well as coffee and orange juice. With some warm food in my stomach, I could feel my body slowing coming back to life, and I was able to look people in the eyes and hold a conversation again.

Now, the Svensons is a happy and well-to-do family. Brandon's great-grandparents founded the textile industry in our city, which had been passed down for generations since. Brandon's father is a common-sensical manager of the wealth, never pursuing growth or diversification more than he should, and never stepping into industries that he did not understand. His uncle, our provost, is a sheep of a different color. There is nothing that man hasn't done in his life. His family influence barely kept him out of prison but could do nothing to wash-clean his reputation. The fact that our school hired a man of such dubious character provost simply confirmed the well-known truth that with money and a silver tongue, nothing is beyond your reach.

Thankfully, his uncle's name was strictly forbidden on his family's dinner table, otherwise I couldn't have been sure if I were to have a panic attack. The names frequently brought up was Brandon's elder brother, Albert. He was already a successful researcher in a National Lab in California. Brandon hates his brother being mentioned, though, as his own grade was abysmal, and the best college offer he could get was a state university in our city. (Where my mom got her English degree, I got painfully reminded by my own memory.)

"We know what happened, and we just want to say, we feel very sorry for it." Brandon's mom said, her voice full of care but none of the type of condescending sympathy frequent seen in rich people.

"Look at the bright side, young man. You are your own man now, and you are going to one of the nation's best universities. You have a great future, and you need to look forward. Let the past belong to the past." Brandon's father added, "You two should go out and take some fresh air. Things get better. You may find it hard to believe right now, but they do."

I had nothing but gratitude for this nice couple. The next couple days I tried to live as healthy a lifestyle as possible. I filled my schedule with working out with Brandon, doing freelance works online, and reading. Occasionally Linda came to visit and the three of us played games. It felt nice, until --

*** ***

It was at a night about a week since I stayed at Brandon's home. I was watching Breaking Bad on my phone when I saw Hank making Walt put a GPS tracker on Gus' car. The idea immediately started growing in my head.

I have been trying to shut mom out of my life. But the more I try to shut her out as a mother, the more I want to get to know her life as a prostitute.

The passion started burning in me and I was no longer able to sleep. I twitched and turned in my bed all night plotting potential strategies and imagining bizarre fantasies. When the first sunshine hit in the morning, I made up my mind.

I will go after her. I will to watch her whenever I get a chance. I want to see her fuck strangers for money. I want to see her sucking cocks. I want to see her being fucked and degraded by men. I want to see men begging her for carnal satisfaction and gratification. I want to hear her counting money and see the smug on her face. I want to see my mother the whore.

As for a contingency plan, I have none. I didn't think about what was gonna happen if she notices me. Will I run and hide? Will I confront her? I didn't think about how her johns were going to react. Will there be a fight? Will they hit me? Will she protect me because I am her son? Or will she just let them hit me? I had no idea. My passion was burning so strong it blinded any senses I had left.

The shopping for a GPS tracker wasn't hard. The majority of detective level stuff required you to register as their member, and I wasn't going to risk that. But there were those pet GPS trackers for dogs. They don't have the battery life or detection radius, but if you could retrieve the devices physically, they do an equally good job of tracking.

I got a tracker and borrowed Brandon's car in case my car gets noticed by mom, drove back to my home after midnight, and put the tracker on her Porsche. I went back to Brandon's and tried to see the location of the tracker on my laptop. It wasn't working because it was out of detection range. I waited for a week before driving back to my house to retrieve it from mom's car. It felt like the longest week in my life, ever.

I could have got it back earlier, but I wanted it to accumulate enough data to really tell if mom had a secret location. Based on what I know about her, she didn't seem to have done her secret business that often -- that was why she could conceal it so well from me all these years. She didn't have to do it that often, either, since she charges a hefty amount judging from what Mr. Svenson gave her. (When my mind arrived to that, my dick got rock-hard again.)

Plugging in the tracker in my computer, I saw two familiar spots of the highest frequency. It was our home, and her real estate agency. Then there were a few scattered spots that she would visit occasionally, but most of them just once or twice a week. Presumably it was just homing she's selling. (Or johns she was visiting, at their places -- my heart panged.)

There were two locations that attracted my attention, both of which she went a couple of times during lunch times and the evening. I've heard of some men married seeing escorts during their lunch break to avoid being discovered by their wives. So, the discovery may lay in either (or both) of the two locations.

I drove in Brandon's car during the day to check the locations. Since I wasn't following her or anything (yet), it did no harm for me to go in the day. The first location was just a house she was selling, as I saw a large sign of her face smiling broadly, her emerald green eyes and white teeth shinny under the sun, with big fonts of "Michelle Kim-Christensen, real estate agent" written underneath. I saw some passers-by walking past her sign, then turning around to see her face again. I couldn't help but feel proud. Isn't she beautiful? I wanted to say to them.

*** ***

The other place got more of my attention. It was a mid-rise luxury apartment complex near downtown, with full window walls for the living room and all. I couldn't see anything from outside during the day since the windows were tinted, but I wouldn't be surprised if one of those units had a nice bedroom, just like the one Mr. Svenson fucked her in. (My stomach stiffened at the thought, but so was my boner.)

I wondered what to do next. I could certainly just go in and pretend to be a potential tenant and try to gather some information out of it. But my 18-year-old face would have just looked suspicious to them. Eventually I decided to go back again at night. It was Friday and I was sure she was not going to waste it. And if I didn't catch her on Friday, I could come back on Saturday, and Sunday. There was no way she could sit through the weekend without making some extra cash.

That evening I came back, sitting in Brandon's car parked in an alleyway across the street at a dim spot. The entrance to the luxury apartment was brightly lit, so it was easy for me to spot the cars that drove in. There were, actually, quite a few white Porsches driving in and out, so I couldn't really spot her just by the car. But the third Porsche that pulled in got my full attention. It was of an older model, but so impeccably clean and well-kept. It was HER. There could be no other way.

My heart started racing fast, and I started doing my best in pulling info from my rather limited experience and devise a strategy. Following right after her into the garage was obviously not an option. But that moment, my lucky charm hit, and a large pickup truck pulled in right after her, so I started up my car from the alley way, crossed the street, and tailed the pickup truck into the garage.

From a distance, I saw mom driving up to one of the reserved spots close to the elevator. This woman and her expensive tastes! I marveled. I couldn't find a parking spot that close to her -- actually, I had to drive all the way to the top to park at one of the guest parking spots. Damn it! I must have lost her! I thought.

But it was too late to abort mission, since I already gone this far. I got in the elevator, and pushed ground floor -- the only level I could go to, without having a key fob.

I immediately regretted the decision. What if mom gets in the elevator now? I would have been trapped, with nowhere to go. I would have to confront her again. And worst of all, I would have to miss all the steamy luscious actions she would otherwise be doing

Luckily no one came in, and the elevator led me directly to the ground floor. The moment I got out of the box, I heard patterned clicking of high heels on the marble floor. It must be HER! Maybe she was sitting in her car looking at her phone or something. My knees got soft, my throat felt dry, and my scalp tightened as if there were a thousand bees flying on top of it. I gathered however little strength I could find, took a few steps across the hallway, and hid behind the corridor leading to the residents' club room.

A plant at the end of the corridor provided me perfect cover. I had always been a young environmentalist, and a lover of nature, but that plant just strengthened my love for the wonder flora of the earth like no other. I bent down and sneaked a peak at the corridor out of the parking garage diagonal from me.

It was mom. She had always been the most beautiful woman I had know in my life, but I had never seen her that gorgeous until that moment. Her golden hair was tied into an elegant knot behind her head, that perfectly revealed the beautiful profile of the side of her face and her slender elegant neck. She wore a simple black blouse that revealed the curves of her buxom shoulders and deep collarbones and highlighted her supple arms and slim waist. She wore a pair of white mini-pants that went right at her crotch level. The pants were so tight that her ample thighs were almost bursting out of it. My eyes then followed her thighs down past her shapely knees and slender shins, until they stopped at a thin golden chain she was wearing on her left ankle. Oh god, and what shapely ankles they were! And finally she was wearing a pair of heels that were at least 4 inches high but barely covered the surfaces of her feet. A thin string led from the hoop at her ankle in each shoe and led to the front and connected to the base at between her big toe and index toe, revealing as much her long beautiful feet and toes as much as they can. Most importantly, she walked with such confident gait, signaling that any men that crossed her path would fall her prey, begging at her feet, asking to exchange everything they could offer for even a tiny bit of her beauty.

I was too busy drooling at her beauty that I accidently let out a pathetic whimper from behind the plant. She turned and looked my way, did not suspect much, turned back, and pressed the elevator button.

My mind was quickly calculating again. I couldn't follow her into the elevator. I waited. She got in the elevator. The door slid close. Then from the display of the elevator, I could see that it went up until it stopped at 4.

I quickly took the other elevator and got to the fourth floor. When the door opened, I poked my head out to make sure she couldn't notice me. Luckily she already got out of hers and turned. From the high heels I could tell she turned into the corridor to the left, so I followed. I saw her making another turn and finally stopped at one unit. She was as watchful as me the whole time and looked around several times to make sure no one was watching her, but I stayed sufficiently far away.

I decided to call that night's mission a success and go home, since there's no way I could call at her door without a confrontation. The whole night I turned in my bed from the excitement of finally finding her secret nest. I was so aroused I had to jerk myself twice to sleep.

The next day I decided to get myself a good pair of binocular. Now that I knew which one is her unit, I decided peeking on her windows would be the best option, at least in the beginning. I went to this shop "Jimmy's Optics", where an elder gentleman greeted me with a broad smile.

"Good morning young man, care to take a look at our lookers here?"

"Em... I want a pair of binocular that can see the farthest at night, especially in dim lighting conditions." I blurted out, my judgement clouded by my desires that I didn't realize the possible impressions it would leave until I had finished speaking.

"Oh yes, many of our fans love to observe stars, especially in this time of the year, you get a good view of the milky way, Altair and Vega on both sides of it, and even Deneb that's submerged in it." The shop owner said enthusiastically, giving me much relief for not having sensed my creepiness "Few people know that you don't necessary need a telescope to have a good view of the stars. A good pair of binocular will do many things. Those people are definitely missing out."

"Anyways young man, which star are you trying to watch?" He added.

"Venus." I answered.

*** ***

The next evening, I came back to the apartment complex again. This time I parked on the other side from the garage entrance, since it was the side that mom's secret nest was on. I had an even better vantage point on this side, since there was a parking garage belong to another apartment complex that was rather loose in security. So I just drove onto the top floor, parked my car, and comfortably took our my binocular out.

From across the street, I counted the windows from one side of the fourth floor. It was the third unit from the edge. That could not be mistaken. The light was not on. I waited patiently for an hour or so, before the light turned on, and the slim figure of a tall woman showed up.

I eagerly pressed my eyes against the back lens of the binocular and took in everything in my view greedily.

Mom was standing in the bedroom, wearing nothing but white lingerie this time. Just when my arousal was building up, she started closing the blinds, and very soon I was left with nothing but white blinds with lights and shadows behind it. The living room had a window wall that had no blinds or curtains, but the light was turned off and she wasn't in there. I sighed from the disappoint and went home.

I kept coming for a few more evenings. Some days she didn't come. Other times she came but shut the blinds meticulously. Sometimes I observe these lights and shadows dancing like flames of a campfire behind the blinds. Was she having sex with people? I couldn't tell. Maybe I was just imagining it.

*** ***

It went on like this for a week, until I was too pumped by frustration and unfulfilled desire, that I decided it couldn't go on like this anymore. I drove into the garage of mom's apartment, went to the ground floor, and asked a tenant if he could swipe 4th floor of the elevator for me, since I didn't bring my key fob. One would hardly suspect an 18-year-old boy in these situations, so he just let me up.

I arrived at mom's unit and knocked at the door. I decided not to give myself time to calm down in front of the door, since I would just get more nervous (and more suspicious). I heard dainty footsteps towards the door, and I gulped.

The door inside, and a blonde woman stood by it, partially leaning onto the door. It wasn't mom.

"Hey," I said, gulping again.

"Hey," she said gently, "Can I help you?"

I recovered from the surprise and had a good glaze at the woman. She was a bit shorter than mom, still tall, but more like 5'7 or 5'8. She looked a few years younger too, something like 32 or 33. Her face was oval shaped, and her light blonde hair tied back lazily into a ponytail. Her skin was very white, not the Irish kind of pink but creamy white. When I noticed this, I got reminded of how tanned mom's skin was, and swallowed another gulp of mouth-water down my throat.

Her eyes were big and blue, with a soft glow suggesting kindness. Apart from dark mascaras that were a bit smeared, she was wearing no other make-ups. Her nose was smaller than mom's, less straight but perkier, with a few freckles on its tip. Her lips were also thin, but with soft lines around them, unlike mom's firm lips. The outline of her face was soft and rounded as well. Her neck was long and thin, not sinewy and always held high like mom's, but soft and elegant that reminds you of a swan.

On her body she was wearing a set of loose pajamas, but even that could not hide her beautiful silhouette. Her shoulders slim and narrow, her arms thin, her hands white and soft, with the slenderest fingers that I had ever seen. She was wearing no bra underneath her pajamas, and her breasts looked small and perky, with nipples poking up under the garment in a mischievous way. Her waist was tiny, and her hip narrow. Her ass and thighs look nice and full, but in a natural way, rather than mom's muscular thick glutes and thighs. Her legs were long, maybe of an even longer proportion than mom's.

But the most captivating part of her body apart from her face, was her feet. I had never ever seen a prettier pair of feet in my 18 years of life. The toes were long and thin, and of perfect proportions with each other -- from the pinky to the big toe, each toe was just a bit longer than the last, so all the toes together were in perfect harmony, neither protruding nor too flat. Mom's feet were strong, a bit rough, with sinews showing from years of walking, and bunions developing. (But those sexy bunions!) Her feet, on the other hand, were just long, smooth, and tender, with the front of the feet not much wider than the back of them. And the white skin of her feet! They were of such a dreamy milky color, with blue veins showing through the skin, and just a slight golden hue on top so I knew her pale complexion was of a natural beauty rather than an unhealthy indoors lifestyle. At the moment, she was standing on her left foot while leaning against the door, and her right foot was lazily crossed over the left shin and rested on top of the left foot.

It took me great effort to pull my eyes away from her feet and back up to look at her in the eyes. This woman has a gentle, almost fragile feel with her. Her innocent blue eyes exude kindness, almost melancholy, especially the way the edges of her eyes pull down a little when she smiled. If mom were a woman that turns your soul into an ocean of raging, thundering, stormy desires, this woman will restore it to a calm blue lake on a sunny morning in no time.

I must have spent so much time measuring up this woman, because she had to cough lightly, and ask me again, "Can I help you?"

I got so embarrassed that I started to mumble incoherently "Emm, ma'am, I was looking for my friends' apartment. I must have got to the wrong one."

She said "No worries. I hope you find it then." Always with so much kindness, and not caring to point out my obvious bullshit. "Do you know the way out?" She asked.

"I think so." I murmured.

"Be careful, it's getting late out there!" She added. "And come back if you need help!"