Chapter 4 - Clara's Cloudy Sky Clears
"Oh, I'm sorry," Clara said. She hurried to dry her eye only to find that there were just too many tears. "I shouldn't be crying in a supermarket. It's a pretty terrible place to have a breakdown, isn't it?"
"Yes, but I understand that it's a very common place to have one," the man said.
She laughed. Finally clearing her bleary eyes, she looked at the stranger. He was BLUE in the same ways that the Red Woman was RED. "Oh! Do you know the redhead that I was just talking to?" she said.
"My sister," the Blue Man said. "I apologize if she overwhelmed you — she's feeling unusually harsh today, and I intend to determine the reason for her mood. In the meantime, why don't you tell me, in your own words, what's bothering you?" He waved his hand like the Red Woman did.
"Oh, it's nothing," she said. "My son just started raping me a couple of months ago. Not only did I not try to stop it, I absolutely loved it, so now I'm going to let him do it again ... and again ... and again. Hopefully, if I hurry home, he'll do it as soon as I get back."
Why did she tell this stranger all of that? It had been a shameful secret, but at least it had been a secret!
"It must be difficult to live with a hidden shame like that," the Blue Man said. "Is John the only person that you have to confide in?"
She didn't notice that the Blue Man knew her son's name. "No, I have friends, but I haven't had time for them since John started fucking me, and I'm definitely not going to tell them about it. And there's my sister, Emilia, but she'd be so disgusted with me! For years, I've been telling her to start a family, with or without a man. I told her that I wanted to have some nieces and nephews, and it's unbelievably fulfilling to have a child ... but look how my relationship with my own son turned out."
"Yes, I can see how it's been changed."
"I'm a horrible mother, and my son makes me feel so ... so despicable!"
"Don't punish yourself for what has happened, Clara. The cosmos works in mysterious ways. Fate can seem cruel, and humans are ... limited. They don't always understand what's really happening."
"God, I wish it was just some misunderstanding! I wish I had a son I could talk to and be proud of again!"
He smiled and waved his hand. "But isn't it amazing — the way that one, little misunderstanding helped the two of you learn exactly what you needed?"
Clara smiled, proud that her son knew what he wanted and was brave enough to pursue it. What he did for her was so sweet that it made her want to cry again. He made her feel so treasured that it left her overflowing with joy.
But ... wasn't she ashamed of him just a moment ago? And ashamed of herself? She tried to remember ...
Three months ago, she was lonely and frustrated. As proud as she was of John, there were some things that a son just can't give his mother. He had his own affairs to pursue, and it was natural that he would spend less and less time with her and more time with the teenage bimbos that surrounded him.
Fortunately, her sister recommended a novel to her — "Conquered by the Trillionaire Highland Vampire" — and it awakened a need in her that she'd always denied. She began to explore a new genre of fiction, full of gruff, hardened men who took what they wanted from women ... and gave back even more! At the beginning of the stories, they often behaved harshly, but they were passionate and intense, and they provided a retreat from Clara's dull, sexless life as a single mother.
Given the number of the books that she devoured in such a short time, it was inevitable that John would stumble across them around the house. What surprised her was the interest that he took in them. Before she knew it, he'd read a couple of them, and he asked her, "Why do you love this kind of books so much? I thought they were only for helpless women who want a macho man to rescue them, but ... you've got your life together. You obviously don't need rescuing."
"I ... I wouldn't say that I love them, baby," she told him. "They're just fiction, after all — they don't really matter. They don't change reality. Still, there's a part of women that wants a man like that — a man who knows what he wants and won't let anything stand in his way. There are things that a woman can't ask for, so it's nice to imagine a man who will take the lead and give you what you need."
She realized that she was probably being too candid with her son, so she quickly tried to turn it into a lesson. "That's probably good for you to consider when you're dealing with the women in your life," she said. "Be decisive — don't be wishy-washy."
Fortunately, he let the matter drop, and she was able to continue to enjoy rugged, aggressive men safely enclosed between the covers of her novels. That took the edge off of her lack of a sex life ... well, that and masturbation, of course, so she usually took advantage of an empty house to indulge in a little "me time" with her vibrator.
That's what she was doing one day two months ago after she arrived home from work early feeling particularly frustrated. "Oh baby, I want you," she moaned, thinking that she was all alone in the house. "Yeah, that's it — come to momma! Give me what I need!"
It was right about then that she happened to open her eyes and spot John standing in her bedroom doorway. He'd just come back from the gym, and his sweaty muscles bulged beneath his tank top and shorts.
John's eyes smouldered intensely, but she initially thought that he was angry or with her, or disgusted. The vibrator buzzed obnoxiously as her mouth struggled to form the words to defuse the situation, but she could make no command, or apology, or justification. Neither could she find the wherewithal to conceal her nudity before John made his own move.
In an instant, he was at the foot of her bed. An instant later, his tank top was gone, and then his shorts. His cock was standing tall and hard when he took hold of her thighs and aligned it with the entrance to her sex. "Is this what you want?" he said before entering her with a single stroke.
The experience of being taken by her own son was passionate and intense. He thrusted into her again and again, and an orgasm drowned her brain in endorphins immediately before he ejaculated inside of her.
Panting, John rolled onto his back beside her, and the two lay there for a minute or two in the afterglow. Before long, however, she had caught her breath and regained her senses. She became aware that she was covered in sweat and other fluids — his and hers — and she wanted to warm up under the covers, but she was afraid to even move. She knew that she should say something, but what could she say?
