The Son Also Rises

There was a frantic knock on the door. I opened one eye and looked at the clock.

"Who the hell would need me at 4 o'clock in the morning?" I asked.

I sat up in bed. Actually, it was not a bed. It was more of a cot with a thin mattress on top.

I looked around at my apartment as the knocking on the door continued. Actually, it was not a real apartment. It was a room with a bed for the maintenance man. No one ever came to my door unless there was a problem, so I was never happy to answer the door.

I quickly put on my maintenance man uniform. The front of my blue shirt read "Mike Skinner, Jr." My dad, Michael Skinner, senior, insisted on adding the "junior" to my uniform shirts because he was the one who owned most of the apartment complexes in the city and not me. I owned nothing. I was just the hired help.

Graciously, my father allowed me to live here rent-free, but as with most things in life, there was a catch. I had to do all of the maintenance for all of his properties. Thus, I would receive calls late into the night about broken toilets and unresponsive air conditioning units.

My father was not someone you wanted to cross. Even though I was his son, my father demanded as much respect and loyalty from me as any of his many employees. In fact, I resigned myself to being just another one of his employees. In the back of my mind, I wanted to save up enough money and drive as far as possible from here. Until that day came, I was just Mike Skinner, the lonesome young maintenance guy.

When I opened the door, I came face to face with my beautiful stepmother. Greta was the latest of my father's many wives. Thin and wispy, her long blonde hair fell down around her delicate face. Whereas I was the rough and tumble ex-football player, Greta was the fragile young ex-waitress. I had a nagging suspicion that I was actually older than Greta, but for the time being, Greta was considered to be my stepmother. I had to be really careful what I said to her. I didn't want to risk the ire of my father.

My biological mother had died when I was still an infant, or so I was told. As long as I could remember, there was a parade of gorgeous would-be mothers. They were all pretty, but I was never really given a chance to get to know any of them. In fact, my father made sure I did not spend too much time with any of them. It was probably for the best because each stepmother was replaced rather quickly. Since I never spent any time with any of them, I would ask my father where my mother was buried. Unfortunately, each inquiry was met with anger. After I while, I stopped asking. My mother became nothing but a nagging mystery.

However, Greta was different. This mysterious and lovely creature was the only one that really showed any interest in me. I could recognize that Greta's face anywhere, even at this late hour.

Oddly enough, my stepmother was wearing a thin kimono that barely covered her thighs. I was happy to see those beautiful legs, but I was not happy to see the snake that had wrapped itself around her neck.

"Mike, you have to let me in," said my stepmom.

I tried to wipe the sleep from my eyes. It did not help that I had already worked well into the evening. A tenant had a plumbing problem that required my undivided attention until midnight. Afterwards, I feasted on tasteless noodles after midnight. Despite my growing distaste for the noodles, there was not much left in the monthly budget for anything else.

"Mom, what are doing here?" I asked in a whisper, "It is almost four in the morning."

"I didn't know where else to go," said my stepmom.

Her mascara had been smeared as if she was crying. The snake slithered around her waist and up one of her arms. I glared at the snake. I was sure the slithery reptile had something to do with all of this trouble.

"Is that a snake?" I asked.

"Yes," said my stepmom.

"Why do you have a snake?" I asked.

"This is my new job," my stepmom said.

"What new job?" I asked.

My stepmom sighed. Obviously, this was not something she wanted to explain to anyone, much less her inquisitive stepson. I looked around outside.

"What are you doing?" asked my stepmom.

I opened my door wider and motioned for my stepmom to enter my tiny apartment. Without asking, my stepmom slid past me and sat down on my bed. I was not sure if I should have let my stepmother come inside, but I was not about to leave her outside nearly naked. The neighborhood was known for gang activity. Promptly, I closed and locked the door.

"I am not supposed to have visitors," I said.

"Is that one of your dad's rules?" asked my stepmom.

I nodded. My stepmom rolled her eyes. Like me, Greta was not fond of my father's arbitrary rules and regulations. Mr. Skinner, senior ran his house like his business and everyone else felt like they were in a prison.

"This is not the best neighborhood," I whispered, "You can't be walking around here late at night."

"I didn't have much of a choice," said my stepmom.

"You can drop the snake over there," I said.

I pointed to an empty laundry bushel behind the door. I really didn't want the snake anywhere near my bed. My stepmom quickly slipped the snake off of her arms and dropped the snake into the bushel. I took a quick look at the snake. It was an ordinary black garden snake with no unusual markings. Snarling and hissing, it was long and frightening.

My stepmother looked around my tiny apartment. There were no dirty dishes in the sink and there was no evidence of the cheap noodles I had consumed hours ago. There were no dirty laundry on the floor and vinyl tile floor was free of dirty and debris.

"Do you always keep your apartment this clean?" asked my stepmother.

"My dad used to beat me senseless if my room was a mess," I said sadly.

"Why does that not surprise me?" asked my stepmother.

"I have the feeling you are not here at four o'clock in the morning to check if my room is clean," I said.

My stepmother smiled. She knew it was my weak attempt at lighten the mood. Obviously, my stepmother was in distress.

"I am working as a model," announced my stepmom.

"That's great," I said.

"Not really," said my stepmother, "They only want women who pose nude."

I pictured my beautiful stepmother undressing in front of a group of sweaty, overweight guys with cameras and video recorders. I frowned. I loved my stepmother and I was not thrilled with her new career choice.

"That's creepy," I said.

My stepmother nodded. Her gaze did not meet mine. I started to wonder if she was posing nude. Judging from the paper-thin kimono she was wearing, her new job probably did involve some nudity. I was torn. I was not sure if I was disgusted at her male coworkers or envious.

"How did you find me?" I asked.

"I knew your father sent you here to take care of his apartments," said my stepmom, "This apartment complex is the only one with a place to sleep for the maintenance guy."

"That is right," I annouced sarcastically, "I am now the maintenance guy."

"At least he gave you a place to stay," said my stepmom.

"Where are you staying?" I asked.

"I don't want to talk about it," said my stepmom.

My stepmother did not want to answer any more questions. In my mind, I pictured her crashing on a friend's couch with strange men wandering into the apartment at all hours of the night.

"Can I get your help?" asked my stepmom.

"Sure," I said.

I quickly checked the door to see if it was locked. My stepmom looked like she was going to cry. Immediately, I knelt down before her as she sat on the bed.

"What is going on?" I asked.

"I have to ask you a favor," said my stepmom.

"Sure, anything," I said.

"Do you promise not to tell anyone?" she asked.

"I promise," I said.

"This stupid snake bit me," said my stepmom.

"Okay," I said, "I'll take you to the emergency room."

My stepmom grabbed my arm. She did not want me to leave.

"I don't have any insurance," said my stepmom.

"You will die," I said, "What if this stupid snake is poisonous?"

"I have already talked to my boss," said my stepmom, "He said he can't help me."

"Okay, what did he say?" I asked.

"Someone has to suck out the poison," said my stepmom.

"That's easy," I said, "Where did the snake bite you?"

"Do you promise not to laugh?" asked my stepmom.

"I promise," I said.

Her face turned red. Reluctantly, my stepmom lifted the hem of her kimono. With reluctance, my stepmother separated her knees. She revealed to me a completely hairless crotch. She pointed to two bite marks at the entrance to her vagina. I looked at her and wondered what to do next. I didn't know whether or not I should be aroused or horrified. To my surprise, my stepmom was waiting for me to respond.

"Are you sure I should be doing this?" I asked.

"You can't tell a soul," said my stepmom firmly, "Especially not your father."

"How much time do we have left?" I asked.

"I am running out of time," said my stepmom, "Do you want me to die?"

"No, of course not," I said.

Without asking for permission, my stepmom stripped out of her silk kimono and dumped the kimono at the head of my bed. I was trying hard not to stare at her amazing body. With time running out, my stepmom threw all modesty out the window and spread her legs on my bed.

"Please, baby," said my stepmom, "Suck out the poison."

I felt like I was in a dream world. Here I was about to lick and suck a beautiful woman's crotch. My hands pushed her legs apart and my head dove onto the flawless skin. I wrapped my lips around the entrance to her vagina. I breathed in the fragrance of her musky scent and felt my penis leap in my pajama bottoms.

I did not know how long I knelt between her legs. I sucked at the two pin-pricks at the entrance to her vagina. I didn't know if I should swallow the poison, but I rationalized that the acid in my stomach would destroy the venom. On the other hand, black snakes were not supposed to be poisonous. My mind went back and forth on whether I should have swallowed the venom, but I was too busy licking her entire crotch.

I worked quietly so my stepmother did not think that I was enjoying myself. My penis was pressing against the inside of my pajama bottoms in an effort to see what I was doing. My stepmother had placed her ankles on my broad shoulders as if she was having a pelvic exam. In truth, I was examining her entire pelvic area, but I was using my mouth and not my eyes.

My tongue slid between the folds of her vagina and I heard Greta moan with delight. She seemed to catch her breath each time my tongue touched her clitoris.

"Oh my God," said my stepmother, "Don't stop."

"I don't want you to die," I said breathlessly.

"I knew you would do this for me," said Greta.

"I love you so much," I said.

"Please don't say that," said Greta.

"But I do love you," I said, "And I would do anything for you."

"I'm still your mother," said Greta.

"But you're getting a divorce," I said.

"We shouldn't be doing this," said Greta.

Looking up at her face, my stepmother's eyes rolled up and she started to breathe faster. Her perky breasts started to shake as her chest moved up and down. My tongue immediately circled her clitoris and my stepmother's body started to shake.

"Oh my God," said my stepmother, "What is happening to me?"

Greta groaned and fell backwards. Her body was shaking and shivering. Suddenly, a milky white fluid started to ooze out of her vagina. I think she was having a full-blown orgasm. She finally ended it by pushing my head away from her crotch.

As she collapsed on the bed, I ran to the bathroom. I spit out whatever was in my mouth. My beautiful stepmother was still on my bed with her legs spread apart. She was trying to catch her breath, but the self-satisfied grin made me think she completely enjoyed herself. Her grateful face turned to me as I gargled repeatedly.

"You can't tell a soul," said my stepmom.

"I promise," I said after spitting out the mouthwash.

My beautiful stepmom smiled as she put her kimono back on her sweaty body. By this time, there was no need for modesty.

"Where are you staying tonight?" I asked.

"That is none of your business," said my stepmom.

"You are welcome to stay here," I said.

My stepmom turned to me with a raised eyebrow. She was about to scold me, but she thought otherwise.

"Why?" asked my stepmom.

I could not hide my delight. She came over to me with her arms crossed. I could see the inner conflict in her mind. One part of her wanted to thank me for saving her life, but the other part wanted to keep their relationship completely platonic.

"I won't tell a soul," I said.

"But you're still working for your dad," said my stepmom.

"I don't think I have much of a choice," I said, "I have to work somewhere and this is the only job that came with a free place to live."

My stepmother looked around and frowned. She was not too impressed with my new-found domicile. Usually I would have found her reaction insulting, but beggars don't get to be choosers. After living at my father's sumptuous villa, I could understand why my mother was not thrilled with an apartment that was the size of a walk-in closet.

"Why are you working for your dad? Do you know he is not leaving you anything in his will?" asked my stepmom.

"I know he is not leaving me anything in his will," I said, "But I am not staying here forever."

"Where are you going to go?" asked my stepmother.

"I am going to get my degree," I said, "And I am going somewhere far from here."

"I like the idea of going somewhere far from here," said my stepmother.

"What happened between you and my dad?" I asked.

"After you left," said my stepmother, "Your father decided to have someone clean out the refrigerator and turn off all the utilities."

"I see," I said.

"You don't look so surprised," said my stepmom.

"My dad usually does that to evict a tenant," I said.

"Isn't that illegal?" asked my stepmother.

"Usually my father turns off the air conditioning unit," I said, "Since most tenants won't call the heating and cooling guys to repair the unit, most tenants just leave."

"Don't they leave a mess?" asked my stepmom.

"That is when my father calls me," I said.

"Why?" asked my stepmom.

"I am the guy who goes in there to clean everything up," I said.

"That sounds like a lousy job," said my stepmom.

"That is why I am going back to school," I said, "I am tired of cleaning up after my dad."

"Good for you," said my stepmom.

My stepmom suddenly looked away from me. Obviously, my stepmom did not want to betray any of her inner thoughts. I came forward and knelt before her, but she did not want to meet my gaze.

"I did what you told me to do," I said.

"I appreciate that," said my stepmom.

"I know I am to blame for your divorce," I said, "And I am so sorry."

"It was never your fault," said my stepmom, "Your father is just an arrogant son-of-a-bitch."

Greta stood up with her back to me. Her gorgeous legs stiffened. I could feel the anger and tension rising in her body. Of course, I felt so guilty.

"I am so sorry," I said again.

"There is no need to apologize," said my stepmom, "He would have found another reason to divorce me."

Finally, my stepmom turned to me. She tried to force a smile.

"He is so worried about how he looks to his friends," said my stepmom.

I wanted to reach out to her. I wanted to give her a reassuring hug. I wanted to tell her that not all men acted like my father, but I didn't want to scare her away either. She stood before me with her arms crossed. Her proud face displayed all of the indignant anger she had reserved for my father.

"You're probably the same way," said my stepmom.

My stepmom stared at me and waited for my response. Finally, I nodded my head in agreement. What did I know? Perhaps, my stepmom was right.

"You are probably right," I said finally, "I hope you find someone who will make you happy."

At that, the snake hissed. We both looked at the bushel basket. The head of the snake was peeking out.

"What are you going to do with the snake?" I asked.

"I never did like snakes," said my stepmom, "But I guess I need to return it to the photographer."

I went to the stack of clean clothes behind the bushel basket and gave my stepmother a pair of sweats and a hoodie. I presented her the clothes and pointed to my tiny bathroom.

"I was surprised to see you holding a snake," I said.

"I don't need these," said my stepmother.

I looked at my stepmother in the eyes and down at her paper thin kimono. I wondered where she kept her car keys. On the hand, my stepmother drove an old Buick that was two decades past its prime. That was one car that no one wanted to steal.

With a frown, Greta took the sweats and the hoodie anyway. In a flash, my stepmom disappeared into my bathroom for a moment to change. I turned to glare at the big black snake in my laundry bushel. I wanted to take a machete and chop the naughty reptile into tiny bite-size pieces. Before I could act on the impulse, my stepmother returned. Needless to say, my stepmom looked better in my clothes than I did. She knelt down before the bushel basket and gently picked up the snake.

"Thank you," said my stepmother.

Without warning, my stepmother kissed me on the lips. Before I could react, my stepmother unlocked the door and walked out into the early morning dawn. I felt emptiness inside me as she disappeared around the corner. I wanted to chase after her and declare my love for her, but I was afraid of chasing her away from me. I knew Greta was hurting from the divorce. Sadly, I only reminded her of my father.

With great sadness, I stood at the door as the sunlight grew brighter and brighter. It was a new day and I had to live that day without her. Maybe I would find someone else to take her place. My stepmother was the first person who stood up for me when it came to my father. Now, my stepmother paid the ultimate price and she was getting a divorce. No one had ever been that devoted to me before, and she deserved my complete loyalty.

I sighed. I was so envious of my father. The hairs on the back of my head stood up each time I imagined my father having sex with Greta. At times, I felt like I would trade ten years of my life just to have Greta as my own wife. Alas, my wife would be fruitless if I had nothing to offer Greta. Shaking my head, I did not even have a decent home for her, or any other woman for that matter. I was just a young man with a dream. Sure, I was taking classes as the local community college, but tuition ate up most of my take-home pay. There was barely enough for a decent meal each day.

Of course, it was not always this way. Two years ago, I managed to get a football scholarship to my father's alma mater. I was on top of the world and my father was very proud of me. That was also after he had met my stepmother, Greta, and life was sweet for my father. He had a young wife and a kick-ass son who was on his way to the pros.

As luck would have it, I never made it to the pros. Our first game was against our biggest rival in the state. On the first play, the quarterback tossed me the football and I ran down the sidelines. Unfortunately, I never made it far. Several players from the other team grabbed me and tossed me like a ragdoll off the field. To make matters worse, they tossed me right onto the bench of the opposing team. Since I was still holding the ball, the rear of the metal bench broke both of my arms. If that was not painful enough, my crotch landed on the cold steel of the metal bench and shattered the cup I was wearing. I learned later that the plastic pieces shredded my manhood like a propeller.

To add insult to injury, all of this was captured on videotape. The video clip was played over and over by the sportscasters. This made my father furious. He had never been so humiliated in his life. He was so ashamed of me that he never once visited me at the hospital. It was months before I was able to leave the hospital.