My thanks to my editor Wildsweetone for the time she has spent on this story, as always any mistakes are mine not hers. This story is a sequel to another story of mine - THE CAR
When the phone rang the room had been filled with the sound of frenetic Gaelic music, Laura uncurled her legs, got up from her chair, paused her favorite video, “Riverdance”, before answering. “Mom how could you do this to us?” Laura held the receiver away from her ear - Amy’s voice was strident and angry. “Have you got no consideration for me or Ken or for your grandchildren? I feel sorry for Pop, I don’t know how he will be able to face anyone.”
“Sorry for your … him! Why he’s the one who has run off with a woman young enough to be his daughter. Don’t you go taking your Pop’s side.” Laura yelled back down the phone, Amy’s mention of Josh had triggered her temper.
“I didn’t, not until you began acting like a teenager.” Laura’s daughter Amy replied.
“If this is about Simon I am not discussing my private life with you!” Laura’s hands were shaking when she slammed the handset into its cradle. For a long minute Laura was rooted to the spot.
By what right did she presume to lecture her own mother on her lifestyle?
Even when she pressed play on the remote, she was still fuming with anger. It was mid-week and nearly every channel was news or some form of cheap brain-numbing entertainment, even the films on offer had not appealed. Laura had resorted to a video she never tired of despite having watched it hundreds of times. But now even the wild Irish music and Michael Flatley’s flying feet failed to soothe her anger.
She was angry with her daughter. Angry with herself for failing to control her anger, Laura pressed, “STOP”.
She hurried into the bathroom and began to clean the gleaming tiles, then the shower stall, and then the hand basin. When she finished polishing the faucets she completed the room by washing the tiled floor. Still angry she blitzed the kitchen.
She had read in problem pages about the rivalry that soured some mother daughter relationships. The older woman being jealous of the younger woman’s good looks and youth, seeing in the younger woman the image of how she had been years before. Laura had never to her knowledge been jealous of Amy. What she had never heard of was the daughter being jealous of her mother, yet she could see no other rational explanation for her daughter’s behavior and attitude since the break up with Amy’s father Josh. She recalled her daughter saying, - I feel sorry for Pop, I don’t know how he will be able to face anyone.
Trust her to take her daddy’s side
– she recalled there was a condition -
What’s the name for it?
Like Oedipus Complex with sons and moms, named after another of those Greek heroes. She wracked her mind to recall her Graduate School Psychology; rolling back the mists created by nearly thirty years she found the name. Electra Complex! -
Gee what a sex life those Greek Gods had, - they seem to have been doing it with anyone and everyone!
The bathroom gleamed, the kitchen was clinically clean, and still Laura was filled with a restlessness fuelled by anger. She went into the garage and washed her little sports car. This was the car Josh had built from a kit and secondhand parts. This was the car she had kept when Josh left to set-up home with his new woman.
The Whore,
Laura thought. This was the car that had led to her meeting Simon.
Simon!
Just saying his name to herself and she could feel her vagina opening, as if it was a void begging to be filled.
Simon
, she repeated his name, her clitoris was throbbing. A warm wetness began to gently churn deep inside her; where her womb was located. She ran her fingers sensuously along the car’s long sleek hood, clutched the cockpit side and held it as her fluid flowed making the gusset of her panties wet.
The garage floor was wet, water gurgled down the soak-away. Her cunt was wet, flowing down the inside of her thighs. She washed and polished the car with the care and tenderness that she would have lavished upon a lover. All the time she washed the car she had concentrated her thoughts upon Simon, banishing anger from her mind.
When she had dried the car with a leather, she waxed and polished its bodywork and wheels with the same thoroughness as she had applied to washing it. Only when it gleamed beneath the glare of the naked lights did she cease her labors. At the garage door she paused giving the car one last lingering look before she turned off the light and closed the door.
In the shower stall the water flowed the grime and sweat off her body. Standing with her legs open she aimed the showerhead, playing a power jet over her thighs and sex. She did not want to come out of the shower stall, the violent water jets massaged her inflamed labia, washing away her dried body fluids and pleasantly inducing fresh flows. Her eyes were closed, yet she saw visions of Simon and her car.
Since returning from the Sports Car races she had spent two nights the following weekend with Simon and they had arranged to be together the coming weekend. She often experienced bouts of self-doubt. At first she had doubted his commitment to her. Since her return from the races this had been less important, now she was questioning her feelings for him. Was she in love with Simon? Or was it just lust? Try as she might this was an as yet unresolved question that Laura had been struggling with.
From thinking about the conundrum posed by her relationship with Simon, Laura returned to thinking about her relationship with Amy. The fiery anger she had felt had burnt out, now she felt a sense of remorse and emptiness. It was not in her nature to let an argument drag on, for she knew this route often led to lifelong feuds.
Wearing nothing but a towel she went into the kitchen and having made herself a cup of coffee she made the telephone call. “Can I talk to Amy?” She said when her son-in-law Ken answered her call.
“Mother.” Only one word but said so sharply that the word hit Laura with the force of a bullet.
“I rang to say that I was sorry I cut you off.”
“You should be sorry for what you have done to all of us.”
“Amy how can I be sorry when I don’t know what I am supposed to have done.”
“You and that man have disgraced yourself and brought disgrace on everyone connected to you.”
“Amy stop sounding like a preacher and be specific.”
“You always do this, making it seem as if I am at fault. Well it won’t work, not this time, you did it – you are the one who is in the wrong. It’s disgusting especially at your age.”
“Amy, tell me what I have done?”
“Mother you have been acting like the kind of teenager you always warned me to stay away from.”
Laura’s patience was sorely tried as she extracted the full story from her daughter. Apparently the deserted area of the racetrack where she and Simon had made love had not been as secluded as they thought. A camera crew who had been packing away their equipment had spotted them; the resulting film had been the star feature of a hidden camera show. Because the program trailers had shown shots of Laura and Simon’s face, Amy had videoed the program.
“Fortunately I did not let the boys stay up to watch the show.” Amy concluded through clenched teeth.
Although she was shocked to realize that she had unknowingly been filmed and her lovemaking had featured on television, Laura also found the idea exciting. Even as Amy had whined her account of the television show, Laura had become aware that she was growing increasingly wet between her legs. The same lascivious wetness that she had felt when Simon had handed her the framed print of the photograph of her sex he had taken. This photograph of a disembodied open vagina framed by spread labia glistening wetly, both of them found attractive as a work of art. Now it hung proudly on her bedroom wall. The other photographs of them having sex he had put in an album, which she thought of as their special album.
“Honey can I see this video?”
