Billy rang the doorbell at one in the afternoon. He knew Katie didn't have class that afternoon, and he hoped he'd find her home alone at that hour. If not, he'd leave her a note. However, when the door opened he was aghast to find himself face to face with her mother.
Arlo, Texas was a nice-sized town. It was big enough so that everyone didn't know everyone else, but nonetheless, small enough so that everyone did gossip about everyone else. Katie's mother, Carmen Prado, had been born there, and in many ways her life had been quite remarkable. Even before she'd occasioned a certain amount of jealous admiration for her success as a sales executive, she'd been the stuff of urban legend. If fact, they even had a name for her: Las Tijeras.
Carmen had been raised in the barrio, south of Eighth Avenue, where chickens and stray dogs roamed the potholed streets. She was a happy little girl and did well at school. However, by the time she got to high school her striking Spanish beauty and proud nature had led to a series of short-lived romances that derailed her studies. Then, when she was a senior, she had met Elton. He was twenty-two, the older brother of a classmate, a handsome white boy from down around Waco who'd just gotten out of the service. Carmen ended up pregnant. Elton did the right thing and married her. She dropped out of school when she began to show, and shortly thereafter Katie was born. Elton took a job driving a delivery truck for a local bottler. It wasn't long till she began to suspect he was fooling around on her.
One Sunday morning, Elton woke to the most exquisite sensation. Carmen had his cock in her mouth. "Don't stop," he begged her. He was already close to coming.
"Elton?" she said sweetly. "Honey?" He opened his eyes to find her kneeling between his legs. She was slowly stroking his straining cock with one hand. In the other she had a large pair of scissors.
Now here is where the tales diverge. Some say she just threatened him. Others insist that Carmen did in fact subtract a few inches from his dick, or that she only nipped off a bit of foreskin as an object lesson. Whatever, the truth of the matter, Elton threw his good boots in the back of his pickup and took off down the highway, never to be seen again. Left to raise their infant daughter, Carmen found strength in herself which she hadn't known existed.
Now, at the age of 36, she had matured into formidable woman. Today, she was dressed stylishly in a cream linen blouse with wide lapels that flared over a red bolero jacket, a matching skirt cut to mid-thigh, nylons, three inch heels. Even in the heels, she was a couple inches shorter than Billy, but she seemed to be looking down at him nonetheless. His mouth went dry, and the sweat which had plastered his tee shirt to the small of his back chilled him. Her eyes went to the bicycle which he had parked beside the porch and then to Billy.
"Pi. . .Katie. . ." he began, but she raised her hand to cut him off. She had a cell phone at her ear.
She listened intently for a moment, then said, "Hold on, Harold. Someone's at the door." Then to Billy she said, "Katie's not here. She should be back soon." She glanced at the schoolbook in his hand. Billy was about to turn away when she said, "You can wait for her if you like."
She held the screen door open for him while she continued to talk on the phone. Something about inventory, it sounded like.
Billy glanced curiously about. It was a large ranch-style home near the junior college. The cool dim living room was very orderly. Spot-lit paintings with Southwestern themes graced the walls. There were well-thumbed books and some Kachina dolls on shelves, leather furniture and native area rugs, architectural magazines neatly fanned on a spotless glass coffee table. Carmen looked at Billy's stained tee shirt and dusty shoes. She muted the phone on her shoulder as she said to him, "You can wait in her room. Down the hall to the right." Continuing her conversation, she tapped across the floor in her heels toward the kitchen.
Katie's room was livened with a barely restrained clutter of books, clothes and knickknacks. A row a stuffed animals lined the footboard of her neatly-made bed. There were two antique armoires on this side of the room flanking the door to the hallway. To his left, gymnastics posters and trophies decorated the walls above the bed. On the right, double windows with drawn mini-blinds let in a filtered light. On the other side of the bed, her desk and a chest of drawers stood on either side of the closet door. Loose papers and notebooks threatened to bury the keyboard on her desk.
Billy was crossing the room to her desk, when his attention was caught by the jumble of clothes stacked atop the dresser. He turned back to the door and looked down the hall. Faintly, he could still hear Carmen talking in the kitchen. Billy eased the door closed and then stepped across the room to the dresser. He opened the top drawer to find a colorful jumble of loose underwear. Billy took a pair of puce panties and held them up to his face. Closing his eyes, he breathed deeply. Faintly, he could smell the musky fragrance of her. All the sexual intoxication of that night came rushing back to him. The blood raced through his body and in the quiet he could hear his pulse hammering in his ears. As his cock grew rigid, he listened intently for her mother. He would hear her if she came down the hallway in her heels. The danger excited him even more. He squeezed his cock through his shorts. He longed to stroke himself. He wanted to come on her panties.
He was standing like that, the panties pressed to his face and his hand on his cock, when the door opened. Not the door to the hall, but what Billy had taken to be a closet door. It was, as he could see now, the door to a bathroom which connected to the office.
"She'll be late, she called. . ." Carmen stood in the door. For a moment, they were both too shocked to even react. With preternatural clarity, Billy watched the large vein in her neck swell as the blood rushed to her face and her cheeks flushed scarlet. He stood rooted to the spot, almost as if it were happening to someone else, as she drew back her arm and slugged him.
Billy rocked on his feet and almost went down. The diamond ring on her finger cut his cheek and he tasted blood. She was screaming at him, and from the number of mierdas, chingadas, putas and pendejos mixed into the rapid-fire Spanish, it was clear she wasn't too happy. He tried to move around her, but she shoved him back till his legs hit the desk chair and he sat down hard. Then she was raining open-handed blows on his head as Billy held up his hands, trying to ward her off, yelling incoherently, "I didn't. . .I'm sorry. . .I didn't mean to. . .stop, I'm sorry. . ."
He tried to get up from the chair, but she spun him around and shoved him under the desk where his legs were blocked. Then she took his wrists and yanked them back behind the chair. Before he understood what was happening she had tied his hands behind him with some pantyhose she had grabbed from the open dresser drawer.
She turned him around to face her. "You son of a bitch! You come into my house and . . ."
He flinched as she raised her hand, but then controlled her anger with a visible effort. " Now, you listen to me, Dwayne," she said.
"But I'm not---mmph!" Billy's protest was cut off as she stuffed the puce panties in his mouth.
"I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen." When Billy tried to yell through the panties, she slapped him dispassionately. "Shut up!"
She sat down on the bed facing him, smoothing her skirt, close enough that their knees were almost touching. "When I was a young girl, just about Katie's age, I got involved with a man and--well, let's just say I came to regret it. I want to make sure Katie makes the right choices in her life. I don't think you're one of those right choices."
He shook his head vigorously. "Mmph!"
"There's no sense in denying it. Katie hasn't said a word to me, but I'm not a fool. I found her top in the laundry with semen crusted all over it. And this in her pocket." She held up a piece of yellow note paper, written on with purple ink. She smiled with her mouth, not her eyes. "So you see, I think I understand quite well what's going on."
She reached over to the desk where there was a large bowl full of odds and ends: pens, pencils, rulers, scissors. . .
Scissors! Oh, my God, thought Billy, please don't pick up the scissors!
She took a twelve-inch wooden rule in her hand. "I think we need to come to an understanding." She poked him in the stomach with it. "You won't be coming around here any more." She poked him in the groin. "You won't talk to my daughter any more." She poked his penis where it bulged under his shorts. "You won't see my daughter any more." She looked him right in the eyes. "You won't even write to my daughter any more." She poked him some more. "Is that clear?"
Billy groaned. He looked down at his lap where a stain was spreading over the front of his shorts.
Carmen glanced down and she flushed red. "You fucking animal!" He thought she was going to hit him again, but instead she reached over and grabbed the scissors.
Billy tried to scoot away, but the back of the chair was already up against the desk. He shook his head violently, his eyes wide.
