Nancy's Inferno

**Author note..Doing this series in nine short vignettes...hope you enjoy it.

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From a strictly comfort standpoint, it had been pure lunacy for Nancy Grubbs to make the move she had the previous Summer. Having moved to Canton with her Daughter once she'd finished high school, Nancy didn't really start missing Pensacola until the first morning in November the wind chill dipped below freezing. By January she was ready to leave Ohio and move back to Florida. Only thing stopping her was the two feet of snow piled up in front of the door.

Sadly, the main reason she'd made the move in the first place (money), was still an overriding issue. With her divorce finalized and no chance of either one being able to afford the house on their own, not to mention in the current market the place just wouldn't sell, Nancy found out her Aunt from Ohio was in the beginning stages of Alzheimer's, and the family was going to put her in a long term care facility. Rather than allowing them to put the Aunt's house up for sale however, Nancy on a lark asked if she could come north and move in.

It would provide a fresh start after a crumbled marriage and a career on hold because of the recession. She decided to bring her 18 year old Daughter Lacy along simply because the girl was nowhere close to being able to take care of herself. There was a small community college close by, and despite the definite change in lifestyle and scenery, Nancy thought she could make it work.

As with most of the things in her life over the past five years, the best laid plans went Ka-Plooey.

The first thing she found herself gravitating towards once she'd settled in Canton was a small church a couple of blocks from home. Before she found a job, or even before she'd really figured out her way around town, Nancy felt a strange, almost instinctual pull to see what was going on inside the modest facility that was actually located inside a somewhat run down strip mall.

>From what some of the members of her distant family in the area had told her, the spot she was living use to be one of the nicer places in Canton, but given the eventual backslide due to the economy and jobs leaving the area, the neighborhood she'd moved to had lost much of its luster. While Nancy had seen poverty in her life, it was usually driving through the bad neighborhoods to get to where she was headed. Having a Husband with a good job for all those years helped make for what she thought was an idyllic life. In a rye turn of fate, Nancy slowly came to understand, given her current situation, she wasn't exactly a Rockerfeller herself once she'd dropped anchor in Canton.

Having grown up in a rather devout southern Bible-Belt family, worship had been a significant part of her youth. Given the inevitable angst that came with her teenage years, plus marrying a man that was steadfastly non-religious, Nancy had gone several decades without attending services regularly. So it was nothing short of a revelation when she walked through those doors one Sunday and found something to fill a little of the emptiness that had taken over inside her.

The 50 or so members of the congregation quickly embraced her and before long Nancy had put her bookkeeping skills to work helping out as the church's secretary and treasurer.

Despite the void it was filling in her own life, Nancy couldn't get Lacy to come to church with her. Knowing how she was at Lacy's age, Nancy understood what her Daughter was going through, especially given all the upheaval with the divorce and subsequent move. It didn't take long however before Nancy started to see some signs Lacy had fallen in with the wrong crowd.

The first inkling she got was when Lacy began coming home a little later and later every night. She certainly didn't want to give her nearly 19 year old Daughter a curfew, but they were living in a new town and Nancy worried, appropriately so, what could happen to a naive and pretty girl at those late hours. It wasn't long into that first Fall semester of community college that Nancy could tell Lacy was starting to blow off some of her classes as well. Money was tight enough as it was and Nancy simply felt disheartened seeing that tuition money essentially flushed away.

By that time Nancy had taken a part time job at a packaging company to go along with the small amount of money she was making helping out at the church. Still, she was working long hours with very little to show when one night at about 1am Nancy stumbled out of bed to get a drink about the same time Lacy was just coming in for the night.

Immediately noticing the disheveled state of her Daughter's clothing and inhaling the clear smell of alcohol and pot wafting from her staggering body, Nancy could also see several fresh hickeys beginning to sprout across the front of Lacy's milky white neck and chest. Too tired to pick a fight, Nancy simply shook her head and scowled at her Daughter with real contempt before carrying herself back to bed.

The one rock Nancy seemed to have found in the otherwise chaotic maelstrom of her life was the pastor at the church she's found a home at. His name was Calvin Grady and if you've seen the televangelist TD Jakes, you have a pretty good picture of Pastor Grady.

A loveable teddy-bear at heart, on first glance anyone who saw him walking down the street might be inclined to quickly find their way to the other side. Despite being 6 foot 2 and weighing every bit of 325 pounds, the warmth of his smile or comfort of his chuckle instantly drew people in. Having spilled her guts to him about all the problems of her life, big and small, since she'd joined the church, Nancy couldn't think of another man who listened as well as Calvin, and earned her trust so quickly.

That wasn't to say Pastor Grady didn't take on the persona of an old-time fire and brimstone preacher when the time called for it. Nancy vividly remembered the first time she saw him work himself into a lather during a Sunday sermon, watching him literally sweat through his expensive blue dress shirt as he waved his Bible high in the air. Nancy could still feel the goosebumps rise on her forearms recalling how his low, soulful baritone voice rose in volume until it rattled the windows of the small office spaced that served as church, urging his congregation to be tireless soldiers as they served God.

Nancy felt as if she was capable of anything after one of Calvin's rousing sermons, but also felt at total and complete ease during their occasional one on one pep talks. Sharing the details about the strained relationship she had with her Daughter was about the only thing that kept Nancy from going completely over the edge.

Other than both being in their early 40's, on the surface Nancy and Calvin seemed to have little in common. He was black, and in both personality and stature came across as bigger than life. Nancy was a shade under 5'3" and was so soft-spoken, people often times had to ask her to speak up in casual conversation. Calvin had been raised for a Father who was a struggling jazz musician and spent a great deal of his youth roaming the hardscrabble streets of inner city Memphis. Nancy's Father had been a renowned doctor for many years in the Tampa/St. Pete area, and her youth came with all the trappings.

While they both had been raised in households that valued religion, Calvin came from a background of unscripted rambunctiousness when it came to worship, while Nancy was reared in a much more staid evangelic environment.

Still, when Calvin closed his huge black hand around her tiny white one in an attempt to comfort her when Nancy began crying beside him one day, she felt an undeniable kinship to her new pastor. When she wiped the tears from her eyes a few seconds later and saw him staring reassuringly down at her, she felt something else she couldn't quite place.

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Nancy could have used Pastor Grady at her side a few days later when she ducked out of work early from her job at the packaging company. Feeling increasingly run down, Nancy was thinking the initial fangs of the flu had chomped their pearly whites down on her. Being a Florida girl all her life, the perpetual cold weather didn't help and given the day to day stress was under, Nancy assumed she was ripe for the picking.

Deciding to just take the day off to go home and hopefully sleep it off, from the instant she pulled into her driveway she got the sense that would be easier said than done. It was a little after 2 that Thursday afternoon, and if memory served Lacy should be at school in Biology Lab. When she stuck her key in the front door and realized it was unlocked however, another tide of nausea rolled through Nancy's belly.

Before she could even set foot inside the house, the sounds from upstairs told Nancy everything she needed to know. Lacy may not have been at her lab, but at that moment it was dreadfully clear she was getting a Biology lesson of her own.

As any Mother would, Nancy instantly felt the presence of someone in the house that shouldn't be there. Almost tripping over her Daughter's discarded tennis shoes in the foyer, she could see a scattered trail of male and female clothing leading up the steps. Turning her head, Nancy could also see a heavy winter coat resting on the sofa, and her skin crawled when she inhaled the residue of cologne drifting from it. As badly as she wanted to fight it, Nancy could also hear the sound of springs, along with the scooting friction of the legs of a bed, grinding painfully on the floor directly above her.

If she wasn't already feeling ill, the sensory overload she was currently enduring would have certainly sent her in that direction.

"What the Hell are you gonna do?" she asked herself as the room began to spin around her.

"You can march right up there and put your foot down..that's what you can do!" a voice of defiance shouted in Nancy's head, but it was met with only a supporting chorus of silence.

"So you're just gonna stand down here and wait until they're finished?" a third, more rational voice opined.

Tossing her purse down on the chair to her left, Nancy reached up and rubbed her temples for several seconds before finally steadying herself enough to make a stand. It took awhile to properly motivate herself, but Nancy eventually turned and started the slow walk upstairs.

In retrospect, that probably had been a mistake.

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The only thing Nancy could liken the ascension of those stairs to was the same feeling a soldier may have trying to navigate a narrow hallway, fearing a hail of bullets may suddenly burst from somewhere at any moment. With each successive step she took, the sound of moans billowing from Lacy's bedroom only intensified. Nancy almost put her hands up to her ears to ward off the increasingly viral echoes coming from upstairs, but she was able to keep them balled into fists at her side as she tiptoed slowly in that direction.

Her face turning every shade of red as she neared the second floor landing, deep down Nancy understood the crossroads she was approaching. Knowing she could still descend down the stairs, perhaps drive down to the store or around the block a few times, anything to pretend this interlude never happened, before she could give into that temptation to run, another more insistent, and long muted internal voice spoke up.

"Show a little backbone and maybe you'll start getting some respect from her," it urged.

Inching her right foot off the top stair and onto the landing, it took every ounce of energy and stubborn will in her soul but Nancy managed to turn her head in the direction of Lacy's partially closed bedroom door.

For just a moment, the shrieks and groans coming from the two mouths inside became white noise inside Nancy's head. All she could see was the shirt clad back of a man, a very tall man, shoving forward and each time he did, Nancy could feel the floor of the old house vibrate beneath her feet.

"Maybe if I just stumbled up here and caught them making out..or kissing...it wouldn't be so bad," Nancy tried rationalizing. "But he's in there......fucking her senseless."

Instantly cringing when she heard her own voice say the word 'fuck' inside her head, Nancy recoiled and nearly fell backwards down the stairs until she clutched the support of the railing.

"It almost sounds like he's torturing her," Nancy thought to herself, only to hear her Daughter's fractured voice beg the man to fuck her harder after every third or fourth violent thrust.

Her fists inexplicably loosening as a numbing haze overtook her, Nancy couldn't help but think back to a day as a child visiting her Grandparents. Remembering how two of their dogs had started 'doing it' in the backyard one afternoon, Nancy vividly recalled how her Grandfather grabbed a pale of cold water and tossed it on the conjoined mutts, sending them scurrying in opposite directions before any damage was done.

The thought of doing the same thing to the guy and her Daughter flickered in Nancy's mind, but she didn't have a pale or spigot handy. She did have a voice and two good hands, but for the time being all three were useless.

Seemingly paralyzed at the top of the steps, Nancy was helpless to listen as the cascade of sound poured from the room. The bed in the room Lacy had taken when they'd moved had old fashioned iron coiled springs, meaning even under the mildest of circumstances, you could hear someone turning over on it from all points in the house. The fact that her weight was now thrashing on top of it created a nonstop metallic roar between Nancy's ears.

She could also hear the man's chilling and brutal grunts as he plowed down on top of Lacy. Doing everything she could to avoid peeking inside that half opened door, Nancy was left to absorb every single vocal chord of the lurid assault.

At some point, Nancy heard something in her Daughter's cries that nearly caused her knees to give way. It could have been any woman being ravaged in that room, groveling at the top of her lungs for release, it just happened to be her very own flesh and blood. Nancy bowed her head hearing the desperation, pain, and yes, joy bleeding from her Daughter's lips. Even if she had a firehose to turn on the couple inside, Nancy didn't think she could. As heartbreakingly twisted as it seemed, whatever burning itch that had overtaken Lacy, the only way for it to be scratched was to allow the man in there with her to finish what he was doing.

"Then why are you still standing here?" she couldn't help wondering.

Her head bowed for several difficult breaths, it didn't take long before the darkness wasn't much consolation for Nancy either. When she raised her head and focused her eyes, the same scene was still playing out, as if on a continuous loop. Nancy could tell the man in question was standing on the floor on the near side of the bed, his hips thrusting forward so fiercely, it sounded as if the bed could fly apart at any moment.

Struggling to keep her gaze locked between the crack in the door, Nancy made another discovery when she allowed the line of sight to center on the man's bare behind. Muscular and firm, his ass worked like a paint mixer as he shoved his cock ruthlessly into Lacy's squishing cunt. Those same hips were also black, and for some reason that sent a staggering jolt of shock through Nancy's heart.

Holding on to the railing as she leered guiltily forward, it wasn't long before she noticed Lacy's feet bouncing wildly to each side of the man's chiseled waist. Even though she had only a sliver of a view inside the room, for some reason she'd never fathom, Nancy's mind filled with the vivid image of what it must look like for the young black man to have Lacy perched on her hands and knees, yelping for him to finish her off.

The last think Nancy wanted to think of herself as was a racist. Hell, she'd just connected on a deeper plane with her new Pastor than any man she had in a long time, and he happened to be black. Still, she couldn't deny the visceral unease she felt seeing those chocolate colored hips churning forward, causing Lacy to scream each time he did.

It could have been a white boy in there fucking her Daughter, or an Asian, Indian or Bolivian, it shouldn't have mattered. She was in there having sex while she thought her Mom was at work, and if she was doing it now, chances are it wasn't the first time. Nancy knew she should step inside and put a stop to it, but she couldn't bring herself to move. The ferocious urgency of what was going on inside that door kept Nancy crouched there in place, her hands wrapped tightly around the railing at the top of the steps.

Mercifully, after three or four more tempestuous minutes, the unsuspecting couple appeared to be nearing their crescendo.

Without realizing it, the flesh on flesh report of the man's groin slamming into Lacy's behind caused Nancy's right foot to tap in real time on the floor, like she always did whenever she became anxious. Being able to hear the sound of their bodies colliding over top of the twanging screech of the bedsprings spoke to just how intense things were getting not 10 feet away from the spot she was standing.

Straining her neck against her better judgment to get a clearer view inside the room, Nancy's breath lodged in her throat seeing the way the man was holding Lacy's long, dirty blonde hair essentially like a bridle, pulling on it with his left hand after every second or third virile thrust. In a strange, almost spiritual connection between Mother and Daughter, Nancy could feel the follicles in her own head flaring each time he did.

"YEESSSS...GODDDDDD....SHAWN..FUCK...YES....FUCK ME HARD....FUCK ME...GODDDDDDDDDD..I'M CUMMMMMMINNGGGNG..I'M CUMMINNNGGGGG," Nancy heard Lacy's voice shattering like glass as it echoed through the upstairs corridor, for the first time giving the young man pounding her a name.

For his part, the boy named Shawn showed no signs of slowing down. Keeping one hand wrapped tightly around Lacy's soft, tangled hair, he gripped the other one under her belly, basically keeping her mounted on her hands and knees until he was done with her.

Within a minute, the frothy semen stewing inside his bloated balls were spitting from the golf ball sized head of his cock. And once again that same indescribable maternal connection presented itself, causing Nancy to feel as if a torrent of gooey warmth had been unleashed inside her own womb as well.

Her eyes still hypnotically trained forward, without really knowing she had, Nancy raised her right hand to her chest, first to calm her racing heart then to tweak the fat, grape shaped bulge of her left nipple as it protruded the front of her blouse.

Time froze for Nancy as she trembled against the wall, a massive exhale sweeping from her gut when the horribly messy sound of the man's cock slipping from Lacy's cunt reverberated in her ears. Within a few seconds, she also heard her Daughter collapse face first down on the mattress in exhaustion. When she looked down to gather herself, it was only then Nancy realized she'd been fondling her own chest.

"Oh Dear God," she cringed, but the guilt and embarrassment she felt seeing that was nothing compared to what torpedoed through her soul when she finally looked back up and saw the young man in the room staring back at her through the half opened door.

Nancy might as well have been burning at the stake when she felt the heat of Shawn's curious gaze. It wasn't long however before the shock left his dark eyes, gradually replaced by the mild recognition that the woman he was staring at bore a striking resemblance to the same one he'd just left sexually devastated on the bed below.

As if wired together by some sort of primitive telepathy, Nancy watched Shawn stare down at her Daughter on the bed and felt a wave reassurance that at least Lacy was face down and spent on the mattress, with no clue about the silent interplay taking place above her. Her knuckles white as she gripped at the banister, Nancy's eyes became the size of quarters when she saw Shawn's freshly used penis dangling like a moist sausage between his legs. Unable to blink or breath, it simply looked like someone had pulled Nancy's cord.