The Bimbo Pill Pt. 02 - Linda

"No. It's not that. I want Mom to be happy." She sighed, knowing that the truth was going to require some severe editing. "It's just...the guy she's with. He's completely inappropriate."

"Inappropriate? How?"

"He's..." Her own son! My brother! She's committing incest! "Too young."

"Really?" Alicia's eyebrows rose in interest. "How young? Your mom is what? Fifty? Forty-five?"

"Forty-two," she responded shortly.

"Damn. She had you young." Linda shrugged. "So how old is this guy? Thirty-five? Thirty?"

She shook her head.

Linda grinned. "Twenty-five?"

Her lips pinched. "Younger than that."

"Whoa." Alicia sat back. But her expression was almost...admiring? "Linda's mom has got herself a boy-toy," she snickered. "Well, nothing like a slice off a fresh loaf to make a woman feel frisky. Or so I hear. Not that I can blame her. Who wouldn't want a hot young stud, compared to some guy her own age who probably couldn't get it up more than once a night?"

"Stop it." Despite her anger at her mother and her brother, she almost smiled. "It's not funny."

"Actually, it kind of is. What if they get married? You might have a step-father who's younger than you are."

"God!" Linda flopped into a chair. "That's just gross."

"Oh, come on. Don't you want her to be happy?"

"Yes, but," she floundered. "She could have any guy. She's good-looking. Not just for an older woman. Why did you have to choose him?"

Alicia sat up. "Wait. You know him?"

Some more selective editing seemed in order. "I went to high school with him." Which was true, as far as it went. Max had been a freshman when she was a senior.

"Wow." Alicia's brow furrowed. "Yeah. That would be awkward as hell. Wait." She looked up. "You didn't ever date him, did you?"

"What? No!"

"Oh, well that's a relief. For a second, I thought I'd fallen down the rabbit hole into one of those movies where the guy can't get laid by the cheerleader, so he bangs her mother instead."

"Good grief." She shook her head. "What kind of movies are you watching?"

"But if you think things would be weird at home, Linda," Alicia said, ignoring her question cheerfully, "why don't you just change your mind about spring break? I'm sure you could patch things up with Eric."

"I'm not interested in patching things up with him," she said shortly. "I told him last night. We're done. Permanently. I've had it with him."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." She shook her head in disgust. "I did the whole spring break thing with him last year. You know, down in Cabo?

"And it was nothing but a solid week of drinking. I'm no hypocrite. I like a drink or two, especially when it's Saturday night and I've got all my schoolwork done and I can relax a bit.

"But for Eric and most of the people I went with, it seemed like the whole point was to get drunk. And not just one or two nights, but every night. Listen. The beach was great, and the sun, too. I mean, who wouldn't want to get out of Minnesota for a week in March and actually be somewhere you wouldn't have to bundle up like a damn Eskimo every time you had to go outside?

"But it was every damn night. Every night, a different bar. I swear, by the time I got back up here, I thought I was actually stupider from all the brain cells I had managed to kill down there.

"So when Eric and his pals and their girlfriends started making the same plans as last year, and were plotting out which bars we'd hit like they were planning an invasion, I said no thanks.

"And Eric took their side! Said he couldn't understand why I was being such a pain in the ass about it! As if I hadn't had to drag his butt back to the hotel three times when he was practically black-out drunk, or step in when he nearly got in a fight with a police officer after he got caught peeing against the side of a building in broad daylight."

But it wasn't just Eric's disturbing penchant for alcohol that had caused her to break up with him. She recalled that last, bitter conversation.

"You know what?" he had sneered, the curl of his lip making her want to slap him. "You're not just a sanctimonious pain in the ass. You're a perv, too. All that stuff you want me to do in bed. It's gross. Sick. I never liked it. I just did it to make you happy. But you are fucking weird, Linda. You need help.

"So have a nice life."

She shrugged her shoulder, trying to keep the pain in her heart from showing on her face. "I'm done."

"Well," Alicia looked around the apartment. "You could always stay here, I guess."

She shook her head. "No. I'm going home. I'm not going to let Mom's descent into some sort of temporary insanity derail my plans."

In fact, I'm going to derail hers.

*****

"Oh, shit." Veronica sat at the dining room table. "What did I say?"

Her son raised his eyebrows at her. "I'm sure you remember."

She dropped her head into her hands. "I do. I was hoping you would tell me it was a bad dream."

"Nope." He put the plates and bowls and cups on the table, followed by the late supper that was becoming more and more routine. "Linda called, and you just blurted out that we're lovers. Though you didn't use quite those words."

"Jesus Christ," she swore. "You must be so pissed right now."

"I'm not mad at you," he said, and she realized, with narrow eyes, that he was using one of her old tricks on her. "I'm just disappointed."

Unwillingly, she sniggered. "Yeah. Sure you are. Dammit. Next time I'm turning off my phone. Ronnie can't be trusted to keep her big bimbo mouth shut, obviously."

"Might be a good idea," her son agreed, setting down a pot of leftover chili, which she had made over the weekend, and ladling a helping into her bowl. After a quick trip back into the kitchen, he came out with a plate of aromatic garlic bread, steam curling over it in fragrant curls.

She ate hungrily, surprised as always at how good food tasted after an hour or two of vigorous sex. The chili was spicy, with beans, onions, tomatoes, and generous chunks of hamburger. After she finished her bowl, she used the last of the garlic bread to mop up the last traces, and popped it into her mouth, chewing contentedly.

"Mom." Max's face was somber. "What are we going to do?"

Veronica had been thinking of nothing else while she ate. She leaned back, toying with her glass of milk. "What do you think we should do?"

"We could stop." He sounded wretched. "Tell Linda it was just a one-time thing, and end it."

"Do you want that?"

"No!" His head jerked up.

"Good." She reached across the table and took his hand. "Because I don't either. I love you, Maxwell. And not just as a son. You are an amazing lover. And even if we both know we'll never be able to live openly, marry, or have children, I'm not going to let one mistake spoil the happiness that we do have."

"But Linda," he shook his head. "She could blow this all up, Mom. What if she tells Grandma and Grandpa? Or Aunt Emma and Uncle Scott?"

Veronica leaned back in her chair, tilting it until it rested on the rear legs, and stared at the wall above Max's head. Her mind, always quick, sorted through possibilities the same way she could see the dance of chemicals in a potential new drug. She was glad that the pill had worn off. Ronnie was very useful, and she was nowhere near tired of the hours when the horny, slutty bimbo took control of her body. But Ronnie was a creature of pure id. She wasn't stupid. Indeed, she kept all of Veronica's smarts. But her goals were very, very different. Ronnie used her mind to satiate basic bodily needs. Food. Shelter. And most of all, and most pleasantly for Veronica and Max, sex. She didn't care at all about the future, and her capacity for long-term planning was practically non-existent.

Which was why Veronica needed to do the planning for now. Ronnie was going to have to take a back seat for a while.

Max, used to her long silences when she was in an analytical mood, was blessedly quiet. Without saying a word, he picked up the dirty plates and bowls and cleaned the table. From the kitchen, she heard a muted hum as he turned on the dishwasher.

When he came back into the room, she let her chair settle back down with a thunk.

"She won't."

"She won't what?"

"She won't tell anyone. Not yet. Not for a long while. Not unless we push her so hard she feels trapped.

"Which we won't do. Think about it. It's kind of like the Cold War was, back in the seventies and eighties."

He smiled at her crookedly. "I'm a little young to remember that, Mom." He frowned in mock concentration. "I think you're too young to remember that."

She smiled at him. "Flattery will get you everywhere. Especially later on tonight," she smiled, then continued, her voice falling effortlessly into lecture mode. "Well, if you paid attention in history class, you'd know that the old Soviet Union and the United States each had enough nuclear bombs to wipe out everyone on the planet. Hell, we still do.

"But it was a war that couldn't be won. By either side. Only lost. Anyone who started a nuclear war knew that they would get blasted to pieces as well. They called it MAD. 'Mutually Assured Destruction.'"

Max nodded. "Okay. I get it. Linda won't spill the beans because no matter what happens to us will be almost as bad for her. No one wants to be known as the daughter of a son-fucking pervert. Or the brother of a mother-fucking deviant."

"Even though I am. And you are." She held out a hand to her son, drawing him down to her lap. "Oh, that's nice," she sighed, as his hand found its way inside the open neckline of her bathrobe, cupping her breast sweetly. His thumb slowly rubbed her nipple, and in seconds it was high and hard.

"She's going to demand that we stop it," Max said quietly. "You know that. I didn't hear much of what she said on the phone to you, but I could tell she was pissed. And you should see the text messages on my phone." He gave a huff of laughter. "Talking about nuclear explosions."

"She can demand any damn thing she likes," she replied tartly. "People in hell can demand ice water. Doesn't mean they'll get it."

He grew still. "Then what happens? Seems like you're kind of setting up a meeting between the unstoppable force and the immoveable object."

"Well," she said. "I'm not going to stop fucking you. Not even for Linda. And I'm not going to be estranged from my only daughter. Even for you.

"So I guess we're going to have to find some way to compromise."

*****

"All right." Professor Cohen took a look at the clock, and smiled at the class, many of whom were practically wriggling with impatience. "That's all for today. I'll see you all in two weeks. Try," she said, raising her voice over the sound of rushing feet as people bolted for the doors at the back of the lecture hall, "not to forget everything you've learned by the time you get back!"

Laughter rolled back towards them. Linda ignored it, chewing her lip as she typed in her laptop, furiously taking notes on the last part of the lecture.

A shadow fell over her screen, and she jumped.

"The lecture notes will be online tonight, if you need to leave, Linda." Professor Cohen's voice was warmly amused.

She nodded shortly. "Thanks. I know. But I want to get my impressions down while the thoughts are still fresh in my head."

The older woman smiled. She was one of Linda's favorite teachers. After a year of rounding out the classes that all students needed to take in order to get their degree, regardless of their major, she had been almost screamingly frustrated, despite grades that put her near the top of her class. But now, taking the courses she was actually interested in, the ones she needed to pursue a degree in medicine, she was fascinated. It was wonderful, the way each thing built upon the next, in an elegant chain of thought and reason, chemistry and biology weaving a wonderful tapestry to create the foundation on which the study of medicine was based.

And Vanessa Cohen was more skilled than most in showing her students how it all fit together. A few years older than her mother, she had short black hair and an attractive, mobile face that could run the gamut from puckish wit to intellectual curiosity to furious scorn, all in a matter of moments. She didn't suffer fools gladly, and any student who thought they could slide by on charm quickly had that notion dispelled. But she spiced her lectures with real-world examples of things she had seen which helped hold everyone's interest.

"I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose. I wouldn't expect any less from Veronica Melton's daughter."

"Mmm hmmm," she murmured distractedly, her fingers flying across the keys. Being her mother's daughter was both a blessing and a curse, sometimes. She was proud of her mother's position as one of the most well-known medical researchers in the country. But having her constantly held up to her as an example could be more than a little grating. With a satisfied nod she saved the file, then turned off the computer, sliding it into her shoulder bag.

"What are your plans for break?" Professor Cohen asked.

"Home," she replied. "Minneapolis. It's only an hour, if the traffic cooperates."

"Well, you probably won't have much of a problem getting out of Mankato," the professor laughed. "Lord knows it's not a big town. Of course," she added, her voice lowering, "if something should happen, you're welcome to give me a call. I'm staying in town. All alone. And I'm always willing to...help out...a student who needs it."

Suddenly, the older woman seemed to be standing very close to her, and her gray eyes and generous mouth were frankly inviting.

Linda swallowed, unsure of how to react. Sure, she had fooled around with other girls a time or two. Had even enjoyed it. But she certainly wasn't a lesbian. She liked guys too much. At best, she was bisexual, though she had learned enough about human sexuality to know that people rarely fit quite so neatly into those categories. Women were just something to tide her over until she could get a nice fat prick in her pussy.

Too bad that Eric was a prick in more ways than one. Her ex had been good in bed, but that didn't make up for his other shortcomings.

She forced a smile onto her face. "I appreciate the offer," she said carefully, trying to be polite. "But I'm sure I'll be fine." Really! The woman is old enough to be my...

Your mother? The voice in her head was snide. Interesting. You don't get disgusted when Professor Cohen hits on you, no matter how subtle she's being. But you went absolutely fucking bananas when you found out Mom was having sex with Max.

That's different, she fumed, as she nodded goodbye to the professor and got into her coat, sliding her hands into a pair of warm gloves and wrapping a scarf around her face. The day outside was brutally cold, with a frigid, evil wind whipping in off the prairie. Max is Mom's son.

And you're Professor Cohen's student. I'm sure there's a rule somewhere in her employment contract that forbids her from having a sexual relationship with one of her students. A morals clause. And somehow, that didn't stop her from trying to get into your panties. Face it, Linda. People are going to fuck.

Shut up. She slammed the door exiting Boruma Hall open with more force than was strictly necessary, then sprinted down the stairs and onto the sidewalk as she saw that there was a campus bus idling at the nearest stop. She leaped into the vehicle just before the doors shut and sank onto the closest seat.

God, she thought, unwinding the scarf. What a miserable place to live. How can you be too cold and too hot at the same time?

An hour later, she was heading for home, two weeks' worth of clothes packed into the backseat of her car, along with a few textbooks, her laptop, and a truly foul temper.

After her mother's stunning revelation the night before, she had sent text messages to her younger brother, first asking, then demanding that he call her to explain exactly what the blue fuck was going on. Wisely, perhaps, the messages had been blithely ignored by Max, since she couldn't promise that she wouldn't lose her temper with her little brother and start screaming at him like a banshee with PMS.

Her grip tightened on the steering wheel as she negotiated her way through town and onto the state highway that would lead her home. Outside, night was falling, though she had driven this route enough times for it to be practically routine. Not for the last time, she wished there was an interstate linking Mankato and Minneapolis. Slowing down to drive through podunk towns like St. Peter, Henderson, and Belle Plaine as she made her way up 169 was enough to drive anyone nuts with frustration.

What were they thinking? The thought was a constant drumbeat in her brain, like an annoying song that you couldn't get out of your head. How had her brilliant mother and her not-completely-moronic brother reached a point where having sex with each other somehow seemed like a good idea? Neither of them had ever given any indication of harboring taboo desires before. In fact, when her brother had blushingly asked her to help him purge his own computer of a particularly nasty virus last summer, she had been secretly relieved to see that his taste in porn had been refreshingly vanilla, even though he had sworn her to secrecy in fear that their mother would find out exactly how the virus had made its way onto his laptop.

Well, I'll convince them otherwise, she thought, wriggling out of her coat as the temperature in the car finally reached a tolerable level. The car surged forward as she pressed down hard on the accelerator. I know what they're doing. God knows what will happen to the family if anyone else finds out.

And why the hell did she tell me in the first place? The annoying thought niggled at the back of her brain. It wasn't as if Veronica Melton was a blabbermouth. In fact, the opposite was closer to the truth. She held a position of real responsibility at Biodyne; she wasn't just some empty-headed bimbette they could trot out in front of the cameras to read a press release off a teleprompter. Depending on how things were going, she could make tons of money simply by using her knowledge of what new drugs were coming out and buying or selling stock on the market. But she didn't. She kept her mouth closed and abided by the rules.

So what had changed? Why had Veronica Melton, her mother, one of the most rigidly controlled people she had ever known, risked everything for an incestuous fling with her own son?

If it's real, she reminded herself, and eased off the gas as the lights of another small town came into view. There was always the tiny possibility that her mother was playing some sort of elaborate prank on her, and had dragooned Max into playing along.

If this is a joke, I'll kill them.

And if it isn't a joke, I'll probably still kill them.

*****

Max came home from school to find his mother already there, something that was so unusual he wondered whether she was sick.

"Hey," he said, putting his bookbag down and hanging up his coat. "How's it going?"

"You're home early." Veronica accepted his hello kiss with only a faint coloring of her cheeks. But, disappointingly for Max, she didn't initiate any further intimacy. It was a far cry from most days, when Ronnie either had his cock in his mouth less than a minute after she walked in the door, or was ready to propose some new and kinkily inventive way of making love. "Good. I took a half day off from work to think things over before Linda gets home. We need to talk."