Wire-Pulling Pt. 03 (End)

"Oh. That's... good." I blinked at her. Did she not want to stick it to Dick? She must have noticed my confused look as she continued speaking. "I'm sorry, Paul. I'm happy I get to clear my name. But... what for?"

"Mom... you won't just clear your name. Your divorce will become a no-fault affair. You'll be eligible for half his estate! That's hundreds of millions of dollars!"

The blank stare she kept regarding me with, at first, made me think she didn't care about the money at all. However, after a few seconds of seeing her completely emotionless face, her mouth slowly opened, her eyelids quivered, and her breath became shuddering. When she finally found her voice, it was barely more than a breath.

"You mean..."

"Yes. According to Breston, you're about to become a very wealthy woman!"

Now, as she continued to stare at me while trying to process what I just told her, I knew that now came the critical moment. Now I needed to make her agree to my proposal without saying too much, to not reveal to my colleagues what I had already done with her.

"But... what am I gonna do with that kind of money?" she asked, genuinely overwhelmed.

It was exactly what I was worried about. This wasn't just a woman being surprised about sudden wealth. This was a woman who genuinely didn't know why she should have access to that much money. Her question wasn't about input. She wanted me to take control and tell her what to use that money for.

Sadly, as much as I would like to see a number like that on my bank statements, I just couldn't do it.

"Well, first of all, you'll have to front me some money to pay my boss. After all, I've been off work for almost two weeks now, while using company resources for my investigation into Dick. And, right now, two of my colleagues' work hours are spent keeping us safe. I mean, it's not like we're friends or anything like that, so they're probably not doing it for free," I explained with some amusement.

There were about five seconds of perfect silence before my phone rang, announcing the arrival of a new text message. When I looked at it, I couldn't help but laugh, which caused Mom to look at me confused, so I held the phone out to her.

The text message came from Micheal and consisted of only one simple word: "Dickhead".

It caused her to grin as well.

"No, but seriously, Mom. I... There's something I want us to do. And I think your newfound wealth can help, since it's not exactly covered by my health insurance."

This caused her eyes to grow as wide as saucers, just as I had hoped.

"What!? What do you need, Paulie?" She was insistent and her entire focus was solely on me now as she looked me up and down as if she was looking for any signs of sickness or pain. I took her hand in both of mine before speaking up.

"I kinda want to... go and see a therapist."

"Wh... a therapist?"

"Yeah," I sighed heavily. This part wasn't just an act. It was actually hard for me to admit this. And not just because I knew my friends would hear it. "When I made that trip to Austin last night, I... I was pretty full of myself. I was sure, all I had to do was to find Dick, follow him with my camera, and get proof of his infidelity since he had no reason to hide it anymore. But... when I then actually saw him as he stepped out of the car..."

I shook my head as I looked at the floor. I felt Mom remove her hand from my hold on her, just to then hold mine instead in a gesture of pure care and reassurance.

"Tell me what's wrong, Paulie. I'm here."

"I genuinely wanted to murder him, Mom. The moment I saw him, everything came back. Everything he did to us over the years. Every punch, every kick, every insult... I didn't just want him dead. I wanted to beat him to death with my bare hands. I wanted to be the one to end him. I wanted him to feel all the pain he made us feel, and it took everything I had to not jump out of my car and tackle him, right there in front of that restaurant."

She was visibly overcome with sorrow again. She still blamed herself. And this new revelation of how much I still suffered from our past was just making it that much worse for her.

"I'm so sorry, Paulie," she whispered as she raised one of her hands to start caressing my hair while the other hand now had a death grip on my arm.

"I told you before, Mom... It's not your fault. I don't blame you anymore. You were a victim in this just as much as I was. And, honestly, I thought I was over the whole thing already. I thought I left it all behind when I left that house. But the rage I felt at that moment... that... that's not healthy. Even I can recognize that. So... I need to address it. And I'd like you by my side when I do. I don't think I can do it by myself."

This was it. I had proposed therapy before, but she vehemently blew me off. She insisted that she didn't need therapy, that nothing in her was broken, and that her submissiveness was just who she had always been since childhood. And, after talking with Tim, I knew that I couldn't expect any results if I were to order her to see a therapist. This way, however, I could use her need to 'make me happy'. If I decided that I needed therapy, and that I needed her support to get through it, I was sure she would be all in, doing whatever it took to fix us. And my hope was immediately confirmed.

"Of course, Paulie! Whatever you need! If you think it'll help you, I will come along. Don't worry, we'll take care of it."

I smiled. And, no, not because my big plan had worked and I managed to manipulate her into attending therapy sessions. I smiled because hearing her words, hearing how important it was for her to help me, hearing how eager she was to support me... it simply made me happy. This wasn't a submissive's need to please her man. This was a mother worrying about her child.

"Thank you, Mom. You have no idea how much this means to me."

It was the final straw. She wrapped her arms around my torso and pulled me into a crushing hug I couldn't escape from even if I had any inclination to do so. And, by now, I didn't give a single shit about what my colleagues might see anymore. As she held me, though, I heard her quiet voice whisper into my ear.

"But... If we talk with a therapist... what if they find out about... what we did?"

I returned the hug before I answered.

"Actually, Tim said he knows someone. He spoke with a therapist himself after... what happened with his family. So, that therapist will probably understand. And, even if they don't, they won't run off to report us to the police."

"Oh," was all she replied, though it sounded like my words had actually lessened her worries.

Now all I needed to do was ask Tim for the contact information of that therapist he told me about. After all, even if he didn't seem too thrilled with that person, their suggestion to let his sister move in with him obviously worked wonders for Ava's submissive tendencies and their relationship.

We stayed on the couch, maintaining our mutual embrace, until the doorbell rang. I quickly gave Mom a peck on her cheek before getting up and opening the door, where I found Jim presenting me with the two pizzas I had ordered.

"I SO expect to get my 'Dora the Explorer' limited edition BFF bracelet back!" he said loudly as I took the pizza cartons off his hands and heard Mom snort in the background before he turned to leave.

When I looked at her, though, she quickly caught herself and looked at the floor, trying to hide her grin from me by covering her mouth with her hand. It didn't help, as I could see the mirth in her eyes, not to mention the occasional jerk in her shoulders as she tried to suppress her laughter.

I groaned as I shook my head. When I placed the pizza cartons on the dining table, Mom finally managed to regain her composure and sat with me to start eating.

By the time we finished eating and I insisted on, once again, helping with the dishes, though, she saw herself confronted with the same problem as before: She had nothing to do. Which meant she still didn't have a chance to serve me. I practically had to drag her back to the couch to watch another movie with me, because she was at the point where she wanted to look my clothes over for holes she could fix.

Once the movie had been consumed as well and I hinted at wanting to jump into the shower to finally get some proper sleep myself, she held on to my arm to stop me from getting up. Then she leaned in closer and started whispering.

"Son, do... do you want me to come with you?"

Being addressed as 'Son' told me what she really wanted.

"Mom, remember we're being watched?" I whispered back and saw her bite her bottom lip.

"But... your friend said the bathroom is only being recorded. They're not looking at those cameras. What if... what if I make up an excuse for us both to go in there? Then I can... take care of you. I'm sorry for teasing you this morning, Son! I didn't want to... I didn't think we wouldn't get a chance..."

She sounded almost frantic about her need to relieve me. I guessed that this new development wasn't just because of her needs, but it was also fueled by her fear of being abandoned if she didn't do a good job at making me happy. But I needed to resist her... as much as I wanted to give in. She had to learn that she didn't have to please me sexually to be valuable to me.

"Mom, even if we make up an excuse, and even if it'll probably be over quick given how primed I am,..." She winced a little at that. "...there's no way they wouldn't notice anything. The sounds, the change in your behavior when you come out without me... these guys are trained to pick up on the little tells."

"But... but what if..." Her eyes darted around the room as she searched for a solution. "What if I just kneeled on the floor, with my mouth open? I promise I won't suck it and ruin my make-up, Son. I promise I won't make a sound, either. You can just relieve yourself into my mouth, and I'll swallow all the evidence! Then I'll come out like nothing happened, you take your shower, and your colleagues won't be any wiser?"

I swallowed. Once again, the level of depravity that woman viewed as perfectly normal, and her willingness to reduce her existence to being nothing but a sex doll, got to me. Controlling myself got harder by the second. No pun intended.

"No, Mom. I don't want to risk it. I'll be quick. Just stay here."

And with that, I quickly got up and rushed to the bathroom, trying to not let the tent in my trousers become too obvious. Thankfully, the hot shower did the trick. After basically being awake for close to forty hours at that point, the relaxing heat got me so drowsy that I wouldn't think of anything other than slipping into bed and getting some sleep. Something Mom immediately noticed as well when I came out of the bathroom. There were no more attempts at taking care of my sexual needs. Instead, she guided me into the bedroom I had placed my bags in, pulled the blanket back for me, and even tucked me in. Which was nice, if I was being honest. Even if I was sure I would find another one-word text message on my phone the next day, commenting on what my 'friends' had seen just now.

Apart from handing my report to Tim the next morning, so he could scan and send it off to everyone who needed a copy, the following three days followed an almost fixed schedule: I would make sure to wake up early in the mornings to start on preparing breakfast before Mom had a chance to do so. Then I would help with the cleanup before regaling her to the couch. I would then do as much of the housework as possible, and never tire to comment on how convenient it was to have someone else do the shopping for us.

In short: I was making her feel as useless as possible, while simultaneously showing her, in every way I could, how happy I was to simply have her around. I didn't know what else to do, and I also didn't know whether it was such a great idea, but it seemed to work. The longer I kept it up, the less she displayed signs of guilt or nervousness. I truly hoped she would finally understand that she meant more to me than a convenient tool for pleasure.

While doing this, I hit a little snag while searching for a divorce lawyer willing to take on Mom's case. Just like I told Breston after he got me out of that interrogation room, I focused on lawyers I had previously worked with for other cases, so they knew I would deliver and the phone calls started out promising. That is until they learned that the person I wanted them to represent was Senator Anderson's former wife. Somehow, they all knew her story and were more than a little reluctant to get involved with her.

It took me a whole day of back-to-back phone calls to get one of them to even look at my report and listen to my explanations. While none of them would outright say so, they, too, shared Breston's assessment of the judge who resided over Mom's case being bought. No matter what kind of evidence I might have gathered, they simply couldn't imagine a favorable outcome. So, I changed tactics and simply talked about 'a client' that needed their help. Only after I had laid out all the evidence we had gathered, and how all they needed to do was present it in court, did I tell them who that client actually was. This finally worked, even though the woman was still somewhat reluctant until I informed her of the DA's office's assurance of a different judge for the retrial. Then she finally agreed to have an online meeting with Mom and work out what she wanted out of this divorce.

I made it very clear that this was about what Mom wanted out of the divorce, as she, like I had feared, kept glancing in my direction, hoping for me to take charge. But I stood by my conviction; this was her money, not mine. So, whenever she clamped up and I knew she wouldn't get to answer the lawyer's question, I went to great pains to only ever offer her options, never opinions, and they were always followed by all the pros and cons I could think of.

There was only one single instance when I gave an actual instruction to the lawyer. It was when I told her to not file anything until we managed to exonerate Mom, as it was a real possibility that Dick would get arrested once we presented our evidence in criminal court. She laughed when she realized that, this way, it would be a complete reversal of what the senator had done to Mom during their first hearing.

I also got the contact information for the therapist Tim had spoken with when dealing with his sister. As it turned out, though, she wasn't exactly specialized in anything we needed. Neither in abuse cases, nor in sexual disorders. But she did have a doctorate in psychology and specialized in relationship counseling. So, I still expected her to be experienced in dealing with domestic abuse and sexual issues.

What convinced me to give the woman a call, however, was the fact that she wasn't blood-related to Tim. She had become his aunt when she married his mother's brother. So, she knew that her nephew slept with her niece. Consequently, she must have also known that her husband's sister slept with her son. If she was able to keep that to herself, and not inform her husband about what was going on in his family while living with the guy, there was no doubt about her confidentiality. At least for me.

When I told Mom about making an appointment for the following day, she seemed nervous again. She made it absolutely clear that she would accompany me without a doubt, and that she would support me in any way she could, but she was still obviously not happy about the prospect of talking with someone about our past and what it did to us.

In all honestly, I can't even put into words how thankful I felt for the woman at that moment. Because I wasn't eager to do this either. I would have fought tooth and nail if Bill had told me to visit a therapist under any other circumstances. I would have just shrugged it off, told him how I would just need to avoid Dick in the future, and I would be perfectly fine.

It was kind of surreal. Here I was, agreeing to finally get some professional help to work through my past, but only because I thought it would help Mom. All the while, Mom finally agreed to get some professional help to work through her past, but only because she thought it would help me!

When I went to bed on the fourth day of our seclusion, I had almost fallen asleep when I heard a soft knock on my bedroom door.

"Yeah?" I called out but, at first, nothing happened. Just when I took another deep breath to repeat my call, the doorknob turned, and in came Mom.

She was clad in a thick, plain-white nightgown I didn't even know she owned. It was probably the most unstimulating piece of clothing imaginable as it hung off her body like a burlap sack, hiding her body completely. It started right underneath her chin, where it was closed neatly with a little string tied into a bow, and ended so far down it even hid parts of her ankles. And then she just stood in the doorway, not saying a word, and not moving.

"What is it?" I asked confused.

"I... I'm a little nervous. About tomorrow. And... maybe a little scared," I heard her brokenly explain in a small voice.

I thought about her words, but ultimately decided to just do the one thing I knew would reassure her: I threw back the blanket and invited her to lie next to me. An offer she accepted without a second's hesitation.

She scooted closer to me until she could rest her head on my shoulder and wiggled a little as if to find a comfortable position, but her knees were pulled up to her stomach, so the bump in the blanket made it clear for everyone to see that she was not actually cuddled up to me. We remained in that position for about a minute, listening to the other's breathing for a few minutes, before I suddenly felt her hand slide down my body.

"Mom!" I whispered as quietly as I could before her hand managed to reach its destination. "What are you doing?"

"Son, I know you didn't get any relief since we arrived here. Let me do this for you. I feel so useless in this house. Please, please, at least let me do this," she pleaded. "I promise I'll go slow. It will feel even better for you this way, and your friends won't notice any movement. I promise, Son!"

"And then... what? I'll drench my underwear and sleep in that mess? How am I going to hide that kind of wet spot?"

"I... I can..."

"No, Mom," I said and shifted around so I could wrap the arm she was lying on around her back, forcing her to lay her head on my chest instead. Before I continued, I pulled her torso closer as well. "Do you remember how I got a little angry when you said you'd make yourself presentable for me?" It took a while, but she eventually nodded. "I told you back then, you're much more to me than just presentable. You're fucking beautiful. And now I'm telling you that you're much more to me than just a housekeeper, or a sex toy, or a cook. I don't need you to take care of me, because, right now, I'm absolutely and totally content with just having my mom back in my life."

As we lay in that dark room, she didn't move for quite some time as she let my words sink in. Ultimately, though, I felt her hand wander up my body, away from my groin, to finally wrap itself around my chest before I heard her release a happy sigh.

"I love you, Paulie," she whispered, a little louder than before as she wasn't worried about anyone hearing her say that, and I could hear the smile in her voice.

"I love you too, Mom."

We fell asleep holding each other, neither of us willing to put some distance between us.

Chapter 11

Opening my eyes the next morning, the first thing I saw was Mom's smiling face. It seemed like, during the night, we had both turned onto our sides so we were facing each other. Something I was rather thankful for, as I suddenly remembered the way I usually woke up when sharing my bed with her. Which was me being her big spoon. This would have certainly caused a shitload of teasing comments from whoever was now watching the live feed of our... my temporary bedroom.