A Mom's Story Ch. 02

This is an incest story so the usual warning to those who don't like them.

If you are new to this story it would be better for you to read Part I first.

I hope you will leave your comments. I enjoy reading them.

*

There were fifteen of us at the office for our weekly meeting. The broker was going over sales and new listings and then he pointed to what he thought were promising sales trends and gave us his standard, go-get-`em pep talk. It was like a day off with the meeting first, followed by the open-house tour where we would visit the new listings other brokers were hosting. It gave agents from other offices a chance to look at what was new. There were usually ten or so houses every week and a lot of the hosts served food. Besides seeing the houses it was a chance to mix with the others and gossip. I usually enjoyed it and this week was no exception.

After the meeting four of us went on tour in my car. It took us an hour and a half to get to the last one, a waterfront house. Once inside the others went off to look around on their own while I went into the kitchen where Sally Simpson, the host and one of the agents I liked, was serving her delicious lasagna. I was having some and visiting with her when Brad appeared. He had been walking past the kitchen on his way to the deck when he glanced in, spotted me and came over.

"Virginia, we need to talk," he said. He had placed himself between Sally and me, his back to her, shutting her out or acting as if she wasn't there. I wasn't sure which. He didn't appear to notice or care that he was interrupting, and he made it sound as if it were something I was required to do.

"OK." I looked at Sally. She was smiling. I wondered what she was thinking. There was something about Brad's commanding manner that rubbed a lot of agents the wrong way. I put my plate down on the counter and Brad and I moved off toward a quiet spot on the front deck.

He seemed anxious and eager at the same time. "Look, can we get together tonight? My wife's out of town."

I told him I could meet him for a drink this afternoon but dinner was out. I could see he was disappointed but I didn't care. I turned to look out at the bay. A breeze had created a light chop and the bright sunlight sparkling off the rippling blue water made it look as if it was strewn with diamonds. "What a beautiful day!"

"When?" Brad didn't give a damn about the day.

I turned my attention back to him. "I have a buyer who wants to look at a condo after she gets off work so I'll have to see. I'll call you. I can meet you when I'm done."

Brad said OK to that, said he would wait for my call, went back inside and in a few minutes he left with his group.

I looked at the house, then went out to my car and drove our group back to the office, enjoying the gossip agents always have about other agents. A lot of sniping goes on.

Back at the office, I was catching up on paperwork, thinking about my encounter with Brad when my cell rang. It was Robbie. At the sound of his voice my heart quickened. His car needed new brakes, he said, and his mechanic called with an unexpected opening. Could he bring it in right away? So he said yes. He said he and some others were going to his friend Ken's house to watch an afternoon baseball game on television and asked me if he could use my car. He'd be back at 8 or so. I said OK and told him I could get a ride home with one of the other agents.

I checked myself out at the front desk and drove to the mechanic's shop. I picked up Robbie and he rode with me back to the office. We hardly spoke. The tension between us in the car was intense, as if we were waiting for a starter gun of some kind. I parked in my reserved space, a more or less private spot in the corner of the lot where the employees parked. We both just sat there for a few seconds. Then I turned to him. The look on his face! He wanted me and I wanted him and we both knew it showed.

"OK, well, be careful driving. I'll see you later. "

"I don't care about the game so call me if there's a problem. I could be home a lot earlier."

"I'll be fine, honey. You have fun and I'll see you when you get back. I'll have dinner ready."

He was fidgeting, wanting to say something else but couldn't get it out. Instead he leaned over to kiss me and I made it easier by moving to meet his mouth with mine. I felt his fingers on my neck, then he moved his lips to my ear. I felt the tip of his tongue just rimming the edge, then lightly in the hole. That drives me nuts. He kissed me on my mouth again and moved his hand up to cup my breast.

I pulled away. "Robbie, stop. Not here. Someone will see us. I have to get going."

"Damn!" he said. His breath whooshed out of him as he sank back in his seat. "OK. Sorry...you're right." He opened his door and started around the front of the car to my side, fixing himself on the way. He held the door open while I got out of the car. I was flustered myself. I couldn't be alone with him for two seconds, it seemed, without being turned on and I was impressed by how fast he could get hard.

"Thanks, mom. See you tonight."

"Bye, honey," I said, and walked toward the office in a manner I hoped would seem casual to anyone who might be looking. But I wanted to look back, and at the door I turned to watch him as he drove away down the street.

Even back at my desk I could still feel his tongue in my ear. Where the hell had he learned that stuff? Not from his girlfriends. I made a quick mental scan of his former women teachers from his high school days. Could he have been seeing one of them? There were a couple of likely candidates, wholesome looking women but then I thought of my own inner slut I had been cultivating so carefully over the years. It was possible, I thought, but probably not. I was getting paranoid.

I spent the rest of the afternoon shuffling papers, it seemed, from one file to another and back again. I did manage to set up an inspection for a house I had a signed offer on, made some phone calls, and did some other stuff. Later, my buyer called about the showing, said she could get off work early and was happy to drive after I explained where my car was.

She took about a half hour at the condo and seemed very pleased. She said she would call me before noon tomorrow. I think she's going to make an offer. She should. It's perfect for her. Then she drove me back to the office and left. I thought about my meeting with Brad, took a minute to compose myself and picked up the phone.

"Hi, it's me."

"I've been waiting for your call." He sounded annoyed.

"I just got back. The showing went well. My buyer said she loved the unit but she still wants to think it over, probably check with her bank. I told her not to take too long." All she could do was lose, and then I thought that advice applied to me as well. I needed to break this off, tonight. "Look, can you pick me up? Robbie has the car. He won't be back until later. I can't do dinner but a drink sounds good. How about Melody Lane?" He said OK and would be right over. I liked the lounge. It was quiet and close to home. I felt comfortable there.

It was a little after 5 pm. Neither of us said much on the drive over. Once at a table we ordered and talked idly about this and that until the waitress brought our drinks--gin and tonic for me, a double bourbon for Brad. We talked business for a while. He finished his first in no time and ordered a second round. The cool gin slipped down my throat smoothly, easing the nervousness I had been feeling since getting into Brad's car. I wasn't over the last time and still felt uneasy being alone with him. I knew too much about him ever to be relaxed around him again. Finally Brad said, "Jan is out of town for a week. I don't like batching. Not good at it."

"Well, not so hard nowadays. We get take-out all the time. It's good."

"Yeah, I know." He was nervous, jumpy. The waitress brought our drinks over, setting my second one next to my unfinished first one. I was thinking again about Robbie. Maybe it was one of his girlfriends after all. They look so goddamn innocent, those sweet, scrubbed-looking things. Probably some of them have been fucking for years already...years...while I was still a virgin at their age. And then, I thought, I guess that's not right...I wasn't...but still...

Brad started talking about national politics, bringing me back to the moment. He's a conservative. I was surprised to realize that I didn't know that. He was talking the usual line about cutting government programs, lowering taxes, reducing excise taxes on real estate transfers, stuff that bored me silly. I was still angry with him but I needed to stay calm. He seemed to want to get drunk.

Then he got to his point. "All I think about is being with you again, Virginia. I thought we could go to my house tonight."

Just in time, I thought. His house. He wanted to step this up a notch. Maybe two. I leaned forward, my hands folded together, looking straight at him. I said, as kindly as I could manage, "Look, Brad, we need to talk." I thought about saying I needed some "space," but that didn't sound right. "I need to spend more time at home. Robbie's in college now and it's been a tough few years for him what with the break-up and all and he's at a vulnerable age."

"Hell, he's eighteen. A man now," Brad said impatiently, signaling the waitress for a third round. I waved off another drink for myself.

I thought, yes, Brad, he's a man now. That's why I want to stay home more often. I also felt a stab of anger that this selfish...what was he?...OK, person...would have an opinion on a subject on which his ignorance was almost total, and that was a lot more important to me than it was to him.

"He's been through a lot."

"He's just seeing his first batches of shit hitting his fan," Brad said. He took a gulp of his bourbon. I wondered if he ever sipped anything. "That's life, Virginia. Being grown up means shit hitting your fan, over and over." Thanks for clearing that up, Brad, I thought. "You think you have it cleaned up and then another big, soft, turd comes flying, and someone turns the fan up faster."

There it was. The World According To Brad. Such an elegant man.

"He's been through more than his share of unhappiness, Brad, and so early."

He took another gulp of his drink, tapping his fingernails on the table while his eyes darted around the room, avoiding mine. He looked very unconvinced. I was thinking the world is as bad as it is because it has so many people in it like Brad. The alcohol was doing its work and I was feeling mellower but it wasn't having the same effect on him. He was getting moodier. He ordered another double for himself, guessing correctly that I didn't want any more.

"I think I should be getting home. You're really belting these down."

"OK. We go after this one."

"I need to say this, Brad. I don't think this is working out. I don't feel comfortable about last time. Maybe we should take a break." There it was. I had gotten it out.

The waitress brought him his drink. He glanced up at her, then took it, sliding it in front of him. He was looking down into the glass. "One of my deals fell through today."

"Which one?"

"The condominium project." He picked up the drink, looking into it, swirling it, and took a gulp. "Boy, that was some commission. Down the toilet."

His bathroom metaphors were getting to me. I almost said , "shit happens," but decided against it. I sipped my gin and tonic. I really like them, I thought. One of the few mixed drinks that taste good to me so long as you pick the brand and don't go with the bar gin. I liked Bombay. Then I noticed how easily my mind was wandering and realized I was no longer interested in Brad's problems.

"I'm sorry, Brad. Nowadays it seems like an exception when something finally actually closes."

He was quiet, then looked up at me, a flat expression on his face. "So you want to give it a rest?"

Was this an opening he was extending? "Yes. I think it would be best for us both. I want a less complicated life. Like I said, I want to spend more time at home."

He drained his drink. "OK. You're the boss." He brought the glass down hard enough on the vinyl top to make the change on the table bounce. "Whatever you say. Come on, I'll drive you home."

We stood up. Even though I knew he was angry, I thought, well, that was easy as he left what money remained on the table and we walked out.

In the car he was quiet. The house was only about a mile away on a street without much traffic. He didn't talk, but he reached into his jacket inside pocket and pulled out a flask. He flipped open the top with his thumb and tipped it up but it was almost empty. He just got a sip. "Shit," he said, and tossed it over his shoulder to the back seat without looking. Then he bent down, keeping his eyes on the road, and got a second one he had stashed under the front seat. He flipped that top open and took a long pull. It was like I wasn't even in the car with him and I was getting worried but his driving still seemed OK. He wasn't speeding or weaving.

"We'll just take some time off from each other and see what we think in a month or so," I said, trying to be chatty and leaving the door open maybe just a little for him, but I wasn't really sympathetic with him at all and just wanted to get away from him. I was noticing the distance to my house getting shorter and shorter. I was calculating stop signs and lights but he managed them OK.

He didn't comment on that or say anything else until we pulled up to the curb. The garage door was closed. I couldn't tell if Robbie was home or not, but probably not. The game wouldn't be over for a while. "Thanks, Brad. Take care...I'll see you soon," I said as I opened the door and started out.

"Wait. I'll walk you in."

"No, no, I'm fine. No need. See you later, Brad."

"I'll walk you in," he said, as if he hadn't heard me. He opened his door and was out and around the car before I could get my door closed. He took my upper arm, squeezing enough to make it hurt, pulling it up, propelling me along with him like I was an errant child, but I didn't want to say anything or make a fuss while we were still outside and the neighbors could see us.

At the door, still concerned about the neighbors, I opened it and turned to say goodbye when Brad, smoothly, as if I had asked him, stepped past me inside, pulling me with him. I would have had to block him to stop him.

"Brad, I don't want you inside." His invasion scared me. "You're drunk. You need to leave."

"We need to talk, Virginia," he said as he kicked the door shut. Still holding me by my arm he pulled me into the living room and shoved me down on the sofa like I was a sack of potatoes.

"I needed you to say `yes' when I asked you to see me tonight. And you said `no.'"

"I can't, Brad. I don't want to see you anymore."

"You don't want to see me? Is that right? Well, what about my dick?" He pulled his zipper down and took his cock out, waggling it up and down. "Suck it for me, bitch!"

"Brad, this is crazy. You need to leave. Right now!"

I started to get up but he pushed me back down. "I said, suck it, bitch!" he said. He kicked his loafers off and unfastened his pants, letting them drop.

I realized, to my growing alarm, that I was trapped in my own house. "Brad, are you out of your mind? Get out! Now!" Again I tried to stand up but he pushed me back down, more roughly this time. Like a punch.

"Or you'll what?" He was leaning over, staring at me and I couldn't read his expression. What'll you do? You've done it before. I want it again. I think you need to give it to me. You ever been raped?"

"Jesus Christ! Brad, what's gotten into you?" I got to my feet this time as he was kicking his pants and shoes off. He pulled me to him and kissed me but I kept my mouth closed and twisted away. I felt a blow and a sharp pain on the side of my head by my ear. He had hit me! I was stunned. "Brad! You hit me!"

"You should have listened before," he said. He jerked my cardigan off and ripped open my blouse. "Too late now." He turned me around and yanked the blouse off, then pulled at my bra until the clasp gave. He tore it off and flung it to the floor.

I was struggling with him, but he was too strong. "Brad, stop or I'll scream!"

"Who's going to hear you, bitch? You scream and I'll knock your teeth out!" His cock was now hard. He'd gotten out of his boxers and there it was, fully erect, purpled, evil looking.

I turned to look at him. "You are really scaring me, Brad...I mean it...stop this immediately!"

"Skirt next, bitch." I was doing the best I could to stop him, fighting with my hands, trying to push him away but he ignored my fists, got the button unbuttoned and the zipper down, pushed my skirt and panties down, then shoved me back onto the couch, leaned over and pulled them both off, my shoes with them. I was naked, vulnerable.

"This is crazy, Brad...You don't know what you're doing!"

He jerked me off the couch and pushed me to the carpet. "I need it and you're going to give it to me. Or I'm going to take it...Man I'm going to love this. I've always wanted to fuck you when you didn't want to. Shove it in! Rape you!"

"Brad, stop! Please! Just stop it!"

He got down on the carpet and straddled me, but with one leg bent across my legs so I couldn't knee him. I was pounding my fists against his chest when I saw the motion of his arm from the side, then felt the stab of pain and heard the hard slap against the side of my head.

"Brad, that hurts! Have you lost your mind?"

Then I saw his hand coming back and felt another hard slap with the back of his hand on my cheek. A mean smile appeared on his face as he watched the fear on mine. Then the smile faded, replaced by an expression that was a mix of hatred and menace, all of it focused on me.

I was thinking as fast as I could, but fear of what this man might do to me had taken over my mind. "Brad, please stop it, you're hurting me!"

"Then stop fighting me, bitch, and shut the fuck up!" He began scratching and pulling at my breasts, slapping them. Another movement from the side, then the sharp sound and sting of his hand hitting my cheek. Hard. It hurt. I was squirming underneath him. I would try anything.

"Brad, listen! You want a blow? OK. Relax. It's yours." I thought if I could make him cum his rage would evaporate.

"Now? You think I'm gonna put my cock in your mouth now, bitch? You think I'm stupid? You'll bite!" He slapped me again, harder this time. "I would kill you if you did that!" He was glaring at me. "After all I've been through and you want to hurt me!"

His rage had taken him over completely. I could taste blood in my mouth. "Brad, Brad, what is happening...I don't understand...Why are you doing this?"

"Because I hate your guts, you spoiled bitch! Because you said `no,' because I want to make you hurt! Like me!" He wasn't calling me by my name anymore and I wondered who he thought I was. I was shaking in terror. I felt him move his body down. I could feel his cock over my mound and his knees forcing my legs apart. I opened my eyes to see his, lost, drifted away in a crazed world only he could see.

"Heeeere's Johnny!" he snarled at me, and pushed his cock at my dry opening, trying to force himself in. I moved my hips and thigh and managed to push him aside.

I screamed, "Robbie! Robbie!"

"He ain't here, bitch! Ha ha ha!" He tried again, but again I was able to deflect him. "Might as well take it, bitch. You're gonna get fucked, by me, Brad, your lover man!"

He had my hands by the wrists, holding them behind my head. I tried to bite him. He laughed. I felt the head of his cock just at my entrance despite my trying to deflect him, and a surge of panic rose up. I was not going to be able to stop this monster when suddenly there was a rush, a blur, then Brad being jerked away. I felt his cock leave me.