My Other Mother Ch. 07byAmeaner©
Mum was right, but it could have been a lot worse. The gang of eight men was already about a third of the way through the large cellar, two opposing lines of diggers already having dug the original four foot ceiling height under the old building down to eight feet at each end and steadily working towards one another. It wasn't hard to see what it must have been like until they dug far enough to allow them to at least stand straight.
The one man bucket brigade outside the large window we crawled through to enter the cellar didn't have it much better. We all took a turn out there, taking a bucket from a digger at the window, carrying it to the dumpster and bringing it back again to take another across the hot, sun baked pavement for an hour.
Wilfe, the guy who hired me, and his son Jimmy were responsible for maintaining our edge banks under the house with old plywood propped up against them until the concrete guys got there, but were also constantly maintaining the sump pump that tried to remove a steady supply of water coming from somewhere, making the temporary dirt floor of the cellar a slippery, muddy mess that the sump wasn't designed to deal with. I fell inside the first hour and the rest of the gang all laughed, telling me I'd just initiated myself.
I didn't quit, I worked hard. This wasn't just because my pay was crucial, but I found certain camaraderie in that filthy cellar of human misery that I wouldn't have expected. Because I worked hard, all those men, all of them older than me but for one, completely accepted and treated me no different than each other.
A certain sense of accomplishment probably made me feel a lot better than I really was while I leafed through a phone book on my way home from work. Leaning against the inside of the plexiglass booth, I found the listings for care homes and scanned, wondering if I had enough quarters for this, not to mention time. Mum would be expecting me.
It jumped right off the page at me and I felt my heart rate climb, an odd, cool flush covering my body at the same time.
'Shoreline Adult Residential Facility'.
There was an uptown adress and phone number attached.
(You just have to look along the shoreline and you'll find us all over, rotting in the sun)
"Wh-?" I wheezed in astonishment. "No. No fuckin' way."
I slowly stood straight, removing my weight from the plexiglass and catching a mud splashed, aghast reflection of my face on a shiny surface of the phone. I was staring at it and wondering if Shoreline Adult Residential Facility would still be there when I looked again.
"What the... ffffffffuck?" I hissed, even as my trembling fingers emerged from the front pocket of my mud soaked jeans with a quarter.
"Shoreline Residential," a female voice confirmed on the other end.
"Uh, hi, how are you today?"
"Doing fine, yourself?"
"Good, thanks. Um, the reason I'm calling is that I'm looking for someone, her name is Marie Burchell."
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"She might be using her Maiden name now. 'Long'?" I prodded further.
"Marie Burchell. Yes, she lives here. May I ask who's calling, please?" she inquired, surprise and curiosity under her professional tone, yet something else as well.
"My name is Steven Burchell, I'm her grandson."
"I've actually never met her, or anyone from that side of my family and I've been tracing back, you know. I never imagined I'd have a grandmother so close."
"She's been here for twelve years."
"How old is she?"
" ... Physically, yes. She's in a wheelchair, but that's due to an accident at a former facility years back in Ontario. She has no serious health problems at all."
"That's good to hear. Uh... is it possible that I can come see her?"
" ... Yes. Family members of our residents are completely free to visit," she informed as though she were under oath.
"Okay, then... Let's see, would some evening this week be good? Like about six tomorrow?"
"Um, yes. Actually, that would be good because it's after supper. My name is Maureen Kennedy by the way and that's my shift, so I'll be here when you arrive."
"Great," I approved, still trembling from the freakish coincidence and the fact that she was really there. "I've gotta run, but if anything changes and I can't make it for whatever reason, I'll call ahead, alright?"
She thanked me and I hung up, stumbling out of the phone booth, my stomach cramping, hands still trembling, mind spinning. I began hauling my suddenly battered feeling body up the sidewalk for home.
"Wow," I blurted when I walked through the door.
I stood there with the knob still in my hand, worries about where I was going the next day quickly fading as I stared at Mum in a stretchy tight, black miniskirt and a snug fitting, olive green tank top. Her hair was straighter than it usually was, but seemed lively just the same, now with black streaks and what this did for her, added to the tan she got at the beach on Saturday, was enough to get things in my pants happening before I could tear my eyes away to close the door.
For her part, Mum's cheery smile faded once she got a look at me and, after a lot of fuss, I found myself showered and all cleaned up, sitting at the table with a good meal, fresh from the microwave.
"Hon, stop telling me it was nothing, you looked like you'd been dragged through the mud. And I see the way you're moving around, I know you're sore despite what you say."
"It's not that bad, Mum."
"I'm going to give you a full body massage later, and I'll see about sleeping with Roxy again tonight so you can get proper rest."
"Okay, please don't fawn over me because-"
"Sweetie pie, you're working like a dog for us. My place is to fawn over you. I might like to be treated like a whore, but I'm not one."
"Your 'place'?" I asked.
"I told you, it's like they say. Behind every successful man is a good woman. He has his job and she has hers."
"That's pretty old fashioned."
"That's why there's so many whores around these days."
"The women's rights groups would pull you limb from limb if they heard you say that. You of all women, from what I always heard about you at PTA meetings."
She was barely able to swallow a mouthful of food before laughing aloud at this. It was sincere and nice to see, but what she went on to say was of greater interest.
"I look at the so called 'women's rights movement' and see that the only way it's moved is in that women now have the right to choose when and how to be used for gain. In a sense, all they've accomplished is to make prostitutes out of themselves without the bother of a pimp.
"Now, I understand that we're in a world where women work and that not very many families can afford to have that not be the case, but what do you figure a man and woman start to think once they've worked together for several years, maybe only one or two? They work well together, they've had shared successes, they respect one another, they spend all that time together, day in and day out while their spouses, chances are, are experiencing the same conditions where they work. Social ills aren't hard to trace."
"Well, people do have the choice of not cheating," I reminded her.
"And how many people, after seeing it happen with all our favourite characters on all our favourite shows for years, make that choice as compared to fifty or sixty years ago? Divorce rates are up for a reason, hon. It's because divorce isn't the big deal it was. A do-over that nullifies all those promises you made like they were nothing, no matter what the cost to the children, just so people can follow whatever dreams of self gratification they think they can get realized out there. It's just no big deal anymore, not when people think they can have a life like Sex in the City. What kind of moron would want a life like that, anyway?"
"I still have a hard time seeing you as the traditional type."
"A woman doesn't have to be a brainless, obedient little ninny to keep her place in the home. There's room for a certain equality that provides for... exceptions from time to time. For example, our overall plan to get back on top is mine. You know that and you're letting me handle it the way you trust I can. However, the man just walked in the door covered with grime from making sure I have the resources to do what it is that I do for us, so he has to be... maintained. So, once we're done our supper, I'm going out to get you a pair of boots and your sneakers will be all clean and maybe dry by the time you get back from work tomorrow. See how that works? You have your place, I have mine. Even Mum knew that."
" ... You've convinced me."
"Oh, I'm good, hon," she grinned with a wink.
We ate in silence for a few minutes before she paused, looking at me with a slightly more serious tone before asking, "You remember how it was after the news got out about your father? Of course you do, who could forget? Coming through something like that with a person, the only person you can turn to and trust, the only person who'll hug you and help you... That creates a strong connection between those two."
"I know. Before all that, you were my mother, but after that, like when we were coming across the country on the train, I could feel that we were..."
"Yeah. Yeah, that's the word I'd use."
"I'll always remember the way you stayed between the cameras and your mother. How you bravely shoved people aside when they crowded and tried to stop us up. While she cowered."
"No, she didn't."
"Oh, yes she did. She thanked whatever gods that exist for you and so do I.
" ... I love her, you know."
"I know. Of course you do, but you're in love with me."
"But... who are you?"
"I'm your mother. Every bit as much as she is."
" ... Where did you come from?" I asked, appearing at least somewhat casual, although my bowl sat ignored like hers.
She chuckled at this and went back to hers, pausing after a mouthful and saying, "I honestly don't know."
"I would think the bottle?" I ventured further. "You... showed up when she began drinking, when we got here."
"Nope. I've always been around, I just really like the stuff. Hey, you like my outfit?"
" ... I love it. Love your hair, too. Looks super with those beautiful eyes."
"Thanks, sweetie pie," she responded with a bright smile as sincere as her earlier laugh was and with said beautiful eyes participating this time. "I love how you're so complimentive. So, you don't think the skirt makes my ass look too big?"
"No, not at all. Makes it look like a tasty meal."
"(giggle) I'm glad you feel that way. Roxanne gave me these clothes and I wore them just for you. Because of what you did today, but because of what you did last night, too. Ooooh, sweetie pie, Mummy really liked that."
"So did I. You enjoy your sleepover?"
"Yes, but it would have been a lot better if you could've been there the whole night."
"Maybe this weekend."
"Yeah, I was hoping. Hey, did you like your lunch?"
"Loved it. By the way, the money's in my pants pocket."
"How'd it go with her last night, anyway?"
"Very well. She's definitely onboard with us. In fact, she's on a little errand for me right now," she imparted, finishing her supper and pushing her bowl aside. "She won't be having sex with Joe anymore, either."
"How'd you manage that?"
"We'll be paying her rent if it comes to that."
"Don't worry, it'll probably only be for one week and we'll get that money back anyway. That and more."
I finished up and sat back, stifling the groan this action threatened on account of my stiff, sore back and said with a smile, "Whatever you think, you're the good woman."
"See, now you're getting it. Take your clothes off and hop up on the bed."
"My clothes? I just changed into them."
"To walk from the bathroom and eat with, but you're not going anywhere tonight, you're hurting too bad. Don't tell me you're not, I can see it. Come on, relax and watch TV in your boxers like men are supposed to."
"Oh my god, what are you trying to do to me?" I laughed, really enjoying her company despite my unease over our prior words concerning my real mother.
"Come on, I'll help you take them off."
Before I knew it, I was propped up on the bed in my boxer briefs and with the remote control in my hand, Mum staring at my hardened condition with a sleazy smile.
"Oh, you smooth talker! Okay, I'm getting changed before I jump you right now."
"Because I have to go out and find you a good pair of boots and this outfit was just for you, like I said."
" ... Go like that."
She looked at me with a nervous, excited smile, waiting for me to say I was kidding or to change my mind, I suppose.
" ... Alright, I'll go like this. If you want."
She turned to go, but I said, "Wait... are you wearing panties?"
"Well, yes. With a skirt this short, I need them."
"I don't think you'll need them. Take them off."
"Oh, sweetie pie... If mummy has to bend over..."
"I know. Take them off anyway."
" ... Okay, Son."
She slowly hiked her skirt, showing me she was indeed wearing panties, a nice blue pair which she just as slowly pushed down her hips and legs. Stepping out of them, she laid them on the bed with me before pushing her skirt back down with a slow wiggle.
"I don't think you'll need your bra, either."
She looked at me incredulously as she slowly performed that little trick women have of removing their bra without first removing their shirt. Her tits sagged a little and her nipples instantly became visible once she'd pulled their black retainer out of her shirt and dropped it on the bed as well.
"Pinch your nipples up. Make sure they're nice and hard before you go so everyone can see what a horny little slut you are."
"Ohh, honey... Do you really want to send mummy out looking like a prostitute?"
"Will that ma- make you happy?" she asked, sticking her hands in the armholes of her tank top and grabbing her nipples.
"Uh huh," I assured with a smile.
"Mmm. Okay, baby."
When she let go and removed her hands, her nipples stood out in stark relief, straining against the green cotton beautifully and making me even harder.
"I think you're all set now. Hurry back, though."
I heard another muted giggle from the hallway a second after she left. Getting painfully up and going to the window, I watched as she walked with a spring in her step, a seductive bounce to her breasts while she self consciously tugged down on her skirt, looking about herself with a sincerely happy smile. It was nothing she ever would have done herself, but was very happy to do for me.
I got back on the bed with a groan, my hardon still raging with the thought of her out like that but, as much as I wanted to satisfy myself right then, it was definitely better to wait for her return.
After a long pause, during which time my smile faded as my thoughts drifted, I noted, "So, she'll go pretty far on my direction."
"I wonder how much further?"
"She likes it, responds to it. ... Her place... She's pretty serious about that. The question is how far that goes. We need to see how much hand we have with her. Remember, she still sees us as her boy, probably as much as she sees us as her man."
"Get her used to your control of her body as a man and her mind may soon follow. Then she'll just see us as her man."
"Yeah... Maybe that's what she meant when she told us we could save her from herself."
" ... I feel bad about what we're doing tomorrow. It's almost worse than when we had to snoop through her purse."
"I'm feeling... scared about tomorrow. I'm not sure why. One thing I do know is that it was worth snooping in her purse."
"Well, we're only doing it because we can't not do it. Not while we have the chance."
"Yeah, who knows what we'll learn. It's foolish not to."
"Right. And I get the feeling we may not be here much longer."
"Did I mention how I'm scared about this? What in the fuck was that today? That... can't have been coincidence."
" ... People have been known to dream the future, or some recognizable version of it. It's nothing."
"Bullshit, you don't believe that. That's just utter fuckin' bullshit considering that Mum is involved, not to mention our grandmother and us. Mum said it was hereditary. And that god damned old man..."
"It doesn't matter. Dreams are dreams and they can't hurt people or have any impact on reality, no matter how weird they are or what kind of coincidences pop up in them. Besides that, we Burchells are crazy; what you're implying is... whatever. And the old man can go fuck himself. He knew our grandparents, we look like Walton, so what?"
"Uh huh. Like I said, utter bullshit."
"Yeah, well... Then there's Roxanne."
"Roxy's alright. Mum made a good case and if she likes women... why shouldn't she have one. Besides..."
"We get to fuck her. Still, it's all so... different. I'm disturbed about this split personality that isn't. Shit, did you hear her?"
"That's... Yeah, that's fucked."
"Meanwhile, all we see whenever we're around her is Goddess Mum. I mean, as disturbing as this whole situation is, we can't help getting a hardon most of the time we're around her and it's like all we can see is..."
"What we want to see."
Conversation with myself died after this last assertion. My mind drifted back to Mum's body as I channel surfed, thoughtfully pondering the effect she had on me, the way I could so easily lose all these troubles in her presence as if becoming mesmerized. It was somewhat the same way with Roxanne and the way she reacted to my mother. It was hard to complain about, that was for sure, probably the only thing keeping whatever sanity I had in place. But at what ultimate price?
The next thing I knew, I was being gently shaken awake.
"Sweetie pie, I'm back!" Mum whispered excitedly once I opened my eyes.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed and leaning over me with a wide smile, those great tits hanging in her snug tank top with their nipples still lewdly protruding. It suddenly dawned upon my still waking mind that I was the one who sent her out that way.
"I'd have let you sleep, but I didn't want you up all night before work. Plus, I'm so excited, I have to tell you!"
"What, uh... what happened?" I asked, getting hard again, even while I was afraid to know.
"Well," she began with a bit of a happy bounce on the bed, "I went to a little place I've noticed before that sells used clothing, cause it's cheap and I thought it might be better if you had something that was already slightly broken in 'cause new boots can be so... you know. Anyway, I kept pulling my skirt down the whole way there and trying not to walk so my tits would bounce around like crazy, but everybody was looking, especially the men and it was so... exciting. I was so embarrassed, but so loving it.
"Well, once I get to the shop, I see there's five, kind of older guys in there, including the shopkeeper. They all looked at me as soon as I came in, and they're looking at all of me, if you catch my drift."
"So, I smile politely at them and make my way to the footwear shelf. Now, sneakers are at the top, shoes in the middle and boots, wouldn't ya know it, are at the bottom."
"You had to bend over," I said with a smile, getting harder.
"Yes! There was no way around it and no matter which way I stood, at least one of those men would see..."
"So I just did it. Yeah, I bent right over and grabbed a pair that looked like your size off the first shelf and straightened up again. I knew a couple of the men behind me must have seen my pussy because the store got kinda quiet then, like the other three knew what they just saw or something."