Photographs Ch. 06

Note to readers: I've had a lot of comments to please finish this story. Thank you very much! I want you to know that the story is complete and I will be publishing a chapter a day until all thirteen are posted.

DISCLAIMER: This is included in the novel/novella category because of length. It is a mother/son incest story. There are also instances of abuse (two of them, which are not the focus of the story). As far as heat level, this story is quite tame, and if you are look for page after page of screaming sex, you might want to look elsewhere. If you want a STORY, please read on.

Christie showered as soon as she reached her bedroom. Her lips still tingled from Danny's kisses, and she ended up leaning against the shower wall, fingering herself. Although she came quickly, it only made her feel better for a moment. Masturbating while thinking of her son was becoming a bad habit. She needed a lover, desperately, someone to distract her from this growing obsession. The problem was, she could think of no man she knew that she desired more than she wanted Danny right that moment. She still leaned against the shower wall, hot water cascading down her back, and she could taste his mouth, minty and sweet. Now thoroughly disgusted with herself, she scrubbed violently at her scalp, quickly rinsed, and toweled dry before returning to the bedroom to try to find a distraction. She flipped through the channels on the TV, picked up and discarded a romance novel, and finally just lay down on her back, naked on the bed, and stared at the canopy. Swimming might work. The rhythm of the strokes, the sensory deprivation of having her head under water, would usually lull her into a semi-trance, where thoughts were meditative and only her body movements held her notice. Afterward, she would be limp and exhausted. Sleep would come and she wouldn't have to think. But swimming required leaving her room and, moreover, Steve had hit her two nights before. If she wore a bathing suit, Danny would see the marks on her back and thighs. It was this thought that finally brought her to tears. She curled up in a ball on the bed, arms wrapped around her knees, and gave in to painful, wracking sobs.

Weak. I am so weak.

Christie cried for a long time. Every time her tears slackened she would think about the futility of her life -- the impossibility of escaping both her husband or her desire for her own son -- and they would break out anew. Finally, her body could take no more and she fell asleep, exhausted and spent, still in a fetal position.

######

Christie never came down from her room for the rest of the afternoon and into the evening. Danny tip-toed from room to room, listening for her footsteps or the sound of her door opening. The determination from earlier in the day waned as he thought more and more about his mother's obvious distress. He created this situation, he needed a way to bring her to him without the anxiety it now caused her. He thought this without shame, because all along it had been his desire and intention to make his mother happy. All right, he also wanted to get laid by a beautiful woman, he admitted to himself, but he wasn't about to throw himself at anyone else. She wanted a lover, he knew it in the same place that he knew the thrill she felt while dancing and the secure confidence she displayed in the courtroom.

Danny believed he would be a safe choice for her. Being with Danny would require no change in her routines, no clandestine meetings. With Steve gone so much, there would be plenty of opportunity. Beyond these practical considerations, though, was the tight bond they shared. Danny and Christie were simpatico.

At six he made himself a dinner of leftover chicken, green beans, and mashed potatoes. It was supposed to be pizza night, he and his mom making homemade pizza together. He looked at the pizza fixings for a moment, wanting a slice of pepperoni, but decided to save it. They would have pizza night, because he was going to fix this.

Danny brought his food into the den, placed it on the coffee table and collapsed onto the sofa. When he pressed the remote, the TV came on to a movie about two people who hated each other, but were in love with their secret pen-pals, who turned out to be each other. Not his type of flick, but his mother had been watching it and he wanted to know what kind of romance worked for her. It was funny, but what captured his interest was the things the two people said to each other in their emails. They were open, free to say what was in their hearts without censure, because it was all anonymous. Danny realized that until now he had been using sex to seduce his mother, probably because he was as horny as any teenage boy and that was where his head was at. She responded to the touches, the kisses, but probably not entirely for the reasons they worked for Danny. Given the way his father treated her, he had imagined she was sexually frustrated and needed to be stroked and coaxed gently. She clearly responded on that level, but her deeper problem, he realized now, was loneliness for a tenderness of a different kind. He remembered Romantic Interludes. Although he imagined his father might have sex with her that didn't involve brutality, he knew without a doubt that what his mother needed was simply love that Steve could never give her. And trust. And companionship.

Shit.

He was an idiot to have seen it at the beginning and then utterly forgotten it in his horniness. Moreover, he was hurting her rather than building her up. Danny turned off the TV and lay back on the sofa, his forearm over his eyes. Shit shit shit! He had turned into as big a monster as his dad.

The current situation required talking. He would tell her all that was in his heart, simply and honestly.

If he had the courage.

First, though, he would bring her dinner. She hadn't been down all afternoon and into the evening. She must be hungry.

######

When Christie awoke it was dusk. Dim light filtered through cracks in the curtains, and the room was in shadows. She rose to use the bathroom, wash her face, and brush her teeth. First grabbing a robe to ward off the springtime chill in the house, she went back to sit on the edge of the bed. She was calm enough now to sit and watch a movie, something distracting with men in spandex blowing things up. She had "The Dark Knight" and the Spiderman movie with Toby McGuire in the bedroom, so she put Batman on and settled back onto the bed. Even with her nap, she was worn out and had trouble concentrating on the movie, often hitting the back button to review her favorite scenes because she had missed them the first time.

Several hours later she was ravenous, but didn't want to go downstairs. Maybe later when she was certain Danny was asleep, she thought and then castigated herself for being a coward. With that thought she rose, deciding not to be to afraid to have dinner when she was hungry in her own home, and was about to find clothes when there was a knock on the door.

"What?" she said a tad sullenly.

"Mom? Can I come in?"

Christie had to think about that. She needed to talk to him, needed to face him, but she wasn't certain she was any mental or physical state to do so.

"Mom?" he asked again.

"All right," she said.

The knob jiggled for a few seconds. "Could you help, Mom? My hands are full."

She opened the door to find him holding a plate in one hand and a glass in the other.

"You've been in here for hours," he said. "I thought you might be hungry."

In that moment, something slid into place in her heart. This was the Danny she loved, the one who anticipated her needs and unselfishly tried to fill them. The one whose thoughts were so much like hers, little needed to be said. The boy who had been trying to seduce her for the past four months was a stranger who was just enough like him that she fell for it anyway.

"Come in," she said. She walked over to her vanity table and shoved aside perfume bottles and makeup to make room for the plate. "Have you eaten," she asked as she sat.

"I ate the rest of the leftovers."

She looked at the sandwich he had made. Ham and swiss on rye bread, fixed just the way she liked it. Two cookies. The Coke in a glass instead of the can. "You always paid attention to what I liked, didn't you, Danny?" she asked as she picked up a triangular half of sandwich and then bit off a corner.

"I learned that from you," he said.

"This is perfect."

"No talking with your mouth full."

"Sit," she said, pointing to a wing-back chair in the corner. "Drag over that chair."

He did, and sat with his elbows on his knees. Silently they sat while she ate. Christie guessed he was waiting, just like she was, for one of them to acknowledge the elephant in the room.

Danny spoke first. "I love you, Mom."

"I love you, too, sweetie."

"I mean..." He ran his hands through his hair and tried again. "I love you like a man loves a woman."

She thought hard for a few moments about how to reply to that, because it sounded just like the silly thing an infatuated teenager would say to a much older woman he shouldn't be seducing. Sort of like their current situation. "Danny--"

"Listen to me, please." He looked at her, making sure he had her full attention. "I've realized for a few years now that every girl I've met I was comparing to you, and they all came up short. I never felt as comfortable around them as I do you, and a couple of times I wanted just to go home and talk to you about how the date went rather than finishing the actual date, and that's sort of crazy."

Christie just smiled a little and raised her eyebrows, but didn't interrupt.

"I knew by sometime last year that you were what I wanted, but I probably never would have pursued it if I hadn't seen Dad beat you at Christmastime. After that, I paid closer attention, and I noticed what I hadn't seen before -- how sad and lonely you are. I mean, you act strong, and you are very strong. In court you're like a... a lioness stalking prey." He smiled at his metaphor. "And everybody better get out of your way. You run a business and manage Dad without him even knowing it. But when I paid closer attention, when you thought you weren't being looked at, that's when I saw how much it costs you.

"You're lonely, Mom."

Christie had long since given up on eating, but she took a sip of her Coke just to do something, because if she spoke she knew she couldn't lie and say she wasn't.

"You won't tell me why, but I believe you when you say you can't leave him. And with the way he watches you, follows you around and spies on you, he would know if you had an affair. And God knows what that son-of-a-bitch would do."

"I've thought about it. He would kill him. He wouldn't carry out his threats to me and my family, because if he did he'd lose me. What he wants more than anything, still after all these years, is to keep and control me. It gives me a power over him that I don't think he's aware of."

"You're careful how you use it."

"Yes."

"So you're stuck," he said, getting back to the subject. "But Dad never has to worry about the time you spend with me. We're supposed to share a house and our time together. I can give you what you need, Mom. I can make you happy."

She arched her brows again. "So this isn't about teenage horniness?"

He flushed and looked away, smiling a little. "Maybe a little bit."

"Maybe a lot?" she asked, returning his smile.

"No, maybe some, but not all," he insisted.

"If we start anything, it will change our relationship. If it isn't good, it will ruin the very best thing that has ever happened to me."

"You want it, Mom."

"You keep saying that."

"Because it's true. You want the love, and the sex that I can give you. Male/female love, not mother/son love."

It was true, but she wasn't ready to say the words out loud.

"Not tonight, Danny. I'm over-emotional and tired, and if I come to you, I want it to be with joy."

He nodded. "I understand. Can I sleep here?"

She groaned. "You won't give up, will you?"

"I promise I won't touch you."

She snickered.

"I promise," he said with a smile, holding up two fingers in a Boy Scout pledge, "that if I touch you it will be entirely by accident or in a platonic way appropriate for mother and son. Okay?"

She held out a cookie. "Help me finish this before we go to bed."