Three Ages of Woman

AN EROTIC PICARESQUE

The thing to do was to see her again as soon as possible. We had agreed to meet the next evening, but I would call her and switch it to today. That way, we could have sex, sex, sex all night and I would keep the conversation light and slow the train down a bit. It wasn't that I did not want to ride that train all the way, but I was not ready for it to go full speed ahead yet. We had connected, but I was not ready to say to myself 'yep, she's my woman and no other', though I could already almost see that station coming up when I looked out of the window. Most of all, I didn't need the complication of another woman on the scene and in my bed, until I had figured out what I wanted from this scene, and figured out what I owed her now, already.

As long as temptation did not put itself in my way, I would be fine. The thing is, though, temptation did come my way.

I will call her, I said to myself, as I finished lunch, and just as I was stepping across to the phone in the hallway, the phone rang. It'll be her, I thought. Maybe she has got the same idea, and wants to see me tonight.

But it was not Mum; it was Daughter.

'Hi,' she said.

I didn't recognize her voice until she told me who she was, and my scrabbling about gave her the advantage.

'Fancy goin' out tonight?'

'What with you all?' I asked.

'No, with me.'

'Well...'

'Oh come on,' she said, 'I don't bite. And I know you ain't seeing me mum, cos she told me.'

'Does she know you're calling me?'

'Course not, but I found your number on a bit a paper on the kitchen table.'

'Wait a minute...'

'Can't. Gotta run. Meet me in the Dog and Duck at 8.'

More like dog and shit, I thought.

What did she want? I told myself that I needed to go and meet her to find out what she was up to. But whatever happened, I wasn't going to do her. It was all going to get way too complicated. Anyway, she had been the one I had fancied the least that first night. Now, had it been Grandma cooing sweetly down the phone to me, I would have been about to have a harder time resisting. That was the theory, at least.

I got there first. It was different pub from where I had met them, and quite a way from their neighbourhood, and that suggested clandestine intentions. Her appearance confirmed them. She strolled in dressed up to the nines, or maybe undressed to them, given the lowness of the cut of her top and the shortness of her skirt. She had slapped the war paint on with a trowel too, and in doing so raised herself from a mediocre six to a fine eight and a half. Mum, though, was always going to be a ten, even if a less than perfect one. Grandma, I will go nine and a half for now. No matter that she scrubbed up well though; and she had youth on her side too, she just she didn't have what they had. But then again, maybe it was precisely because she was young and the years had yet to have their chance to give her that certain je ne sais qua. Or maybe it was just me and my leftfield tastes and my liking for my meat well done and a bit on the tough and street-soiled side.

I got her a vodka and Redbull and she necked it in one, so I got her another. Dutch courage or already a seasoned slapper? Bit of both was my sense of the thing. We did small talk and she must have downed six and seven before she said

'We can't talk 'ere. Let's go to Gran's. She's gone round to see Mum and she always comes back late. Really late. They drink and argue. They don't get on.'

So it was crunch time. All the while I had been chatting with her and watching her down those potent drinks like they were water, she had been working her charm on me, and I was as intoxicated with her as she must have been with the vodka.

'All right then,' I said, telling myself that I had to go, otherwise I would have no chance of finding out what this unholy little coven were cooking up in the way of spells and mischief.

'So there is something you want to talk about?' I said, as the taxi sped towards Grandma's house and possibly my doom.

Then something occurred to me.

'If your Mum and your Gran don't get on, why does your Gran want to visit and spend the evening drinking with her?

'I said drink and argue. Gran must have something on her mind that she wants to talk to Mum about. You, maybe.' She giggled, but she still didn't seem all that drunk.

I had already been thinking that. Now, this was one occasion when I was very happy not to be a fly on the wall. But that didn't matter in the end anyway, because I heard all about it from Mum the next day. She was livid. If she had known what I had been up to while Grandma was giving her such a hard time; no question, she would have killed me.

Anyway, we got to Gran's and straight away Daughter starting taking on more fuel. There was more vodka and Redbull in that house than food.

I had sat down on the sofa and when she came back with drinks, she next to me. She looked at me for a moment like she was about to do something naughty and then she said

'Ya like me mum then?'

'Yes,' I said, 'she's a nice woman. She's got character.'

'Is that what ya call it?'

'She's tough, and I think she's had a tough life.'

'Yeah,' she sneered, 'not as tough as the life she has given the rest of us.'

I could have got the whole story out of her. I realised now that she was, despite appearances, well drunk, but still lucid and coherent. Somehow though, I didn't want to know; not then anyway, and not from her. Whatever she was, or whatever she might have been, I liked her mum, and I had decided that whatever appearances might suggest, she was decent, and what I valued even more; she was intelligent, and worth getting to know, and even worth having a real relationship with, and taking away from all this. Not only could she have had more, I had already half way decided that she deserved it, just for being intelligent and decent.

What she didn't deserve was what happened for the next hour or so. All those thoughts had gone through my mind in a few seconds and more followed; but as I was thinking to myself, and I was just about to tell her: your mum may well be all the things you think she is, but I know she wouldn't do to you what I know you are planning to do to her now...

Before I had finished the thought, I realised through my growing anger and the vodka haze that something was going on with my dick and I looked down and he was poking out of my trousers and her fingers were rolling my foreskin up and down over my helmet.

She was grinning all over her face; a grin of triumph, but she had not quite gained the victory yet. But then she said something, and although she could not have known the effect it would have; or that it needed saying if I was going to have her as she wanted.

'I'm better than her. I'm younger, and I'm not a slut.'

I didn't say anything, but the anger and the vodka and finally that ugly statement decided it. I'm going to fuck you, you little whore, and I'm going to give it to you just like I would give to a real whore; but only the once. And you are going to like it, but you are only getting once what your mum can have whenever she wants it; and given with affection too.

So I did. I fucked her rough and hard, and of course she loved every second of it. It worked like a dream and I enjoyed her too. For a kid of nineteen, she certainly didn't hold anything back; this young lady had all the arts of a bordello whore twice her age.

Afterwards we smoked and she said

'See, fresh meat is sweeter.'

Sweet indeed, but not always sweeter, and sometimes really very sour. It is not nice to compare one woman with another, and especially when they are mother and daughter, but when you have had Mum for breakfast and Daughter for dinner, you can't help yourself. I looked for resemblances, physical of course, but also in the ways they both moved, and what they liked. She was definitely an on top kind of girl, whereas Mum screeched loudest when she got it doggie. And where Mum clearly adored it by the back door, daughter hadn't been so taken with it, but she had let me do it. Usually, I don't force the issue where anal sex is concerned. If a lady wants it she gets it, but if she doesn't ask or offer, I don't press her, but this little skank; I had just rolled her over and rammed my knob all the way up the back passage and right into the living room.

But then, who am I trying to kid? She hadn't exactly had to work hard to snare me, had she?

I woke up the next morning feeling as much of a shit as I deserved to, and wondering what next? My sixth sense was telling me two things: number one that she was not going to want her Mum to know; not yet anyway, and number two, she had something on me and she was going to make use of it. But I still didn't know what really was what with the three of them, and I had crossed the Rubicon now; which seems an appropriate metaphor in the circumstances, given how Roman it had all become; from a moral point of view, I mean.

A hundred thoughts spun about my mind, but I could not spin any of them into anything other than Daughter was a nasty little shit and I was about the same. And I had to believe that she was not going to tell her Mum yet and I saw that I needed to talk to them both; Daughter first.

I also needed to count five, take deep breaths, get a hold of myself and start thinking rationally. If she was going to tell Mum, she would have done it last night, while the vodka had still had her in its clutches; and if she had, I would have heard from Mum by now. The rest was speculation until I could talk to Daughter.

But wait a moment. Why did I care so much? I had fucked one sexy young girl 12 years my junior and spent two nights with a depraved sex machine who had taken me places I had never been before. It was Christmas, my birthday, and the summer holidays all rolled into one. Or it would have been if they had not stopped being nice, simple sexual fantasies come true, and become not only real women, but people with lives and feelings; and it was all much more complicated than I wanted it to be, but it was too late to do much about that now. And just in case you are thinking that I was turning into the gentleman that Mum mistook me for, the other reason I wanted to stick around and be in the next episode was because having gone this far, I was going to try my damnedest to complete the set. I had to fuck Grandma too now.

I picked up the phone and dialled, and I had to make sure I didn't mistake their voices. If Mum answered I would say I had called to ask if I could come over earlier, as I had taken the afternoon off work. It was still early and Daughter wouldn't have gone to work yet, and if she answered, I would tell her I had to talk to her.

It was Daughter. She agreed to meet me at lunchtime and she suggested the park. We could talk there.

'We need to be straight with each other.'

'Yep,' she said.

'What happened last night shouldn't have. I like your mum and I think she likes me.

'She does.'

'Do you like your mum?'

'Course I do! She's me mum.'

'So why did you do it?'

'Why did you?'

'Don't play games,' I said.

'I fancy ya,' she said.

'For Christ's sake. You must know that I have been to bed with your mother, and you still wanted to have me.'

'That's why I wanted ya to 'ave me.'

'You're some family, aren't you? Your mum doesn't have a good word to say about your Gran, and you want to screw your mum's man behind her back.'

'We are some family. Ya wouldn't believe me if I told ya.'

'Try me.'

'I'm not telling ya all of it; they're the family secrets, dirty little secrets.'

'Ok, fair enough, but if I'm going to be with your mum...'

It was only when it came out like that, that I realised that that was what I wanted and why this was all so complicated. Well, I wanted that, but I want t be fucking the other too as well.

'Ya really serious about 'er?'

Yes, I think I am, as much as I can be so soon.'

'That's different, then,' she said and looked thoughtful. 'Different from what I fawt, and different from the usual blokes she picks up.'

'I see,' I said.

'Look,' she said, lighting herself a cigarette, 'Saturdee night, it was Gran who notice ya walk in, and she gave me the nod, but Mum saw her and then she moved in. She does that a lot. She said 'ee's my age, not yours, or yours, and I'm 'aving first go.' And off she went. Gran had you in mind for me. She's like that. She wants me to have a better life.'

'And what do you want?' I asked her.

'I'm 'appy as I am. I got a job and I like it, and there's a lad who works in the garage over the road from the caff and I like him, but Gran thinks none of it's good enuf for me. So you walk in and Gran thinks she might be able to guide you my way. And maybe she was right, I mean you're weren't difficult, were ya? And after you'd had Mum too.'

'Yes,' I said 'and she must not find out about that.'

'She won't. I ain't gonna tell 'er and I don't suppose you are either.'

'So why did you do it? Why did you invite me out last night?'

'Why did you come?'

'Touche.'

'Sorry,' she said, 'Listen, Gran had her eye on you for me. She thinks I can snare some rich bloke, get married, live in a big 'ouse, all that, but I'm not into that. Mum was once, I think. And I'll tell you something else too; Gran fancied you an' all. I can tell wiv 'er. She's a right ole goer when she gets a chance, but she's picky. All them local old blokes in the pub'd give their left ball..., but she ain't havin' none of it. She ain't that old, ya know, but she ain't getting much of it. She finks she can still get 'em the way she did when she was younger, like Mum does. But she can't. Poor old cow ain't bin fucked for months I reckon; years maybe. She's too fussy. She's a bit old fashioned an' all...'

I couldn't help laughing when she said that.

'I know,' she went on and laughed herself; 'she looks like a cross between Lady Muck and an old brass, but she's bin fru a lot So's Mum, so have I.'

I liked her by now. She was a different person from the sneering little cow of last night.

'You like her, don't you?'

'What, Gran?'

'Yeah, I love her. She was the one who raised me, ya know.'

'What about your Mum?'

'She's me Mum. I love her, course I do.'

'So why did you do it, last night?'

'I dunno. Gran had put the idea in me 'ead that evening and when mum nicked ya I was pissed off. The way you 'andled yourself, chatting away to all of us, not lettin' on who you liked, and you were really nice to Gran too and I thought well, if he goes for me I ain't gonna go along with Gran's daft scheme and try to snare ya into being me fairy godfather or sumfin, and if he don't go for me, then Gran can 'ave him, cos the way you were wiv 'er, I really fawt ya might.'

I didn't say anything.

Would ya 'ave?'

I still didn't say anything.

'Come on, I ain't gonna tell, am I?'

'Ok, put it this way; I've always had a thing for older women, and especially ones who look like a cross between Lady Muck and an old brass.'

She screeched with laughter.

'I'll set ya up, if ya like.'

I was sure she would have too.

'Much as I'd like to, I think you had better not. This is all complicated enough.'

'Yeah,' she said, 'poor old Gran. 'Er ole whatnot'll dry up from lacka use before long.'

'Listen,' I said, 'I will be round to visit your mum tonight. Will you be there?'

'Not if you're comin' raund. I'll get packed off to Gran's.' Last night's sneer ghosted across her face again. 'Still, at least she only has her men round now when I'm not at home.'

'Are you going to start being mean about her again?'

'No,' she said.

'Look, there's nothing you could tell me about her past that can put me off. I will get to know her and make up my own mind.'

'I 'ope yer broadminded then.'

'I am broadminded.'

'Well, like I said; it was Gran who raised me; mostly. Mum was young when I was born and I don't even know me Dad. Some boyfriend was what they told me. If he was anyfin like all the uvvers, 'e was probably only around for a couple a days. Wiv 'er, a week's a long term relationship. So I stayed wiv Gran, but then when I was fifteen or so I fawt I was all grown up, so I insisted on going to stay at Mum's. That lasted a couple a monfs, and she'd come 'ome and I'd pretend to be asleep and I'd 'ear her wiv 'er men, at it all night long. And then one night I really had fallen asleep and I was ill, and I woke up and I went to ask her to get me medicine. I walked in 'er bedroom and she had free blokes wiv her. Free of 'em!'

She paused.

'So I went back to Gran's. There was an almighty row the next day and Gran was callin' Mum a slag an' an 'ore, and I remember Mum saying to Gran, 'whatever I am, you made me like it,' and Gran went berserk and started 'ittin Mum. I dunno what Mum meant when she said that, but it must have been somefin really bad for Gran to react like that. I know there's stuff between 'em that I don't know about, and they won't tell me. So anyway, maybe last night was revenge; but I do fancy ya too, so don't get insulted!'

I was staggered, but before I could say anything she was cracking another joke.

'Mum must 'ave 'ad all one in each 'ole. Dirty cow, nice though!'

'How can you make jokes about such things?' I asked her.

'Better 'an cryin' about 'em, ain't it?'

'Yes, I suppose it is,' was all I could think of to say.

'Mum is wot she is. She's wild and she don't care. Ya know, if she was someone else's mum, I'd fink she was really cool and admire her.

'You're tough, like her,' I said.

'If I am, it's cos I had to be.'

'I know.'

'Are you really serious about Mum?'

'I could be, if things keep going well.'

'It'd be good for 'er to 'ave a steady bloke, instead of the usual losers and scumbags she attracts.'

'Which is why,' I said, 'she must not find out about last night.'

'She won't,' she said, 'not from me, anyway.' That was all right then, but she looked a bit uncomfortable as she said it. I put that down to guilt at what we had done.

'Good,' I said.

'Does that mean I won't be gettin' any more of your nice big cock in me?' she giggled.

'Not if you want things to work out with me and your mother,' I said.

'Not even on the sly?'

'Don't tempt me, you little minx;' I told her. I could not help but admire her cheek.

'What about Gran?' she said, all butter wouldn't melt.

'You're impossible.'

'It'd do 'er good. If she 'ad a nice dickin' every now 'n' then, she'd be less narky. I'd get some peace. She'd stop tryin' to set me up with the blokes she fancies fuckin' 'erself!'

She could switch gear without even breaking speed from tales of her mother's goings on and what they did to her, to telling me that it would be good for her mother if I was going to stick around, to asking me if I was still going to give it to her, and if not her, then maybe her Granny.

How, after all that could I even contemplate going after Grandma, but I was, and I had her too, as I said before; but not because I pursued her. I didn't. But have her I did nonetheless, and it all amounts to the same thing in the end; I was thinking seriously about a relationship with Mum and within a week of meeting her, I had fucked her daughter and her mother too.

I had always thought that the Jerry Springer Show was all fiction and the people on it were really all actors and the scenarios all made up, but here I was; the main protagonist in the Olympic Champion of Jerry Springer Show scenarios. And I had also learned that these kinds of people really do exist and live these kinds of lives; and even more disturbingly, I have learned that they actually were people. I had never known that my fetish for underclass, chav, white trash pussy could lead me into such complicated worlds or turn into an anthropological education. But then again, when it comes down to 'how'd you like your pussy?', none of us men has much control over the matter, and none of us cares that much what dangers and embarrassments and humiliations we have to face to get it.