Catch Of The Day 6

Mrs. Waffles sat sideway from me, upright like a news anchor, crossing her legs and smiling. She was smiling at me. She had never sat this close to me, and her toes almost touched my knees.

The air around us smelled of flour and melted butter. It was a warm, sedating scent. She was baking cookies when I knocked. I had come to borrow video games, or so I told her. The cookies were waiting in the oven now.

"Tell me about that bicycle kid again, Luke. What was his name?" She asked.

"Mark. It's Mark Croissant."

On Mark's 18th birthday his stepmom gifted him a new bicycle. Two nights later he rode it straight into a lake, screaming at the top of his lungs. Mark was a good swimmer. Unlike his bike. On a clear day one could see the spokes and handlebar gleaming in the water. I wished I had such a nice bike, but I couldn't swim.

"God. This Croissant kid. Isn't he something," she was grinning again, showing her rows of little teeth. She liked listening to me, liked hearing my voice.

I told her he did these things because he was a troubled rich kid. She nodded in approval. I didn't tell her that Mark later pulled a pocketknife at a girl who refused to go to prom with him. He was suspended and might not attend our graduation.

"Promise me you will never be like Mark. Will you at least promise me that?" She leaned forward to search for something in my eyes.

"I have learned so much from you," she went on speaking. "Matthew never tells me these things. I don't understand. You two were almost twins. Now he has grown a shell around him. I can't get through anymore, you know?"

She nudged even closer and was breathing down my neck. I read her painted toenails. Then she shifted and laid back a little.

"At least you are still friends, after all these years. That's something."

She sounded glad but there was the bitterness in her voice. I looked around. A whole wall made into shelves. A ship in a green bottle, sealed with cork.

"So Matt went fishing with Mr. Waffles? I didn't know he was into that." I asked.

"He was not. It was his father's idea. It will be good for them to go out together sometimes. Should be back any minute now."

Mrs. Waffles turned to the window and raised her chin. A sandy path led onto a small, empty pier. I looked too. The sea was wide. Shadows of clouds grazed upon it.

She looked back at me. "So Luke, tell me who's the cutest girl at your school."

I sat and thought for a while. Mrs. Waffles observed me in some secret joy.

I thought of Jane Cupcake. She was from California and always wore a blue bandana. I thought about asking her for prom, but things didn't work out. I ended up sitting in the back with Matt like clowns.

I told her I had no one in mind.

"Aren't you the picky one! But it might be for the best."

"Why is that, Mrs. Waffles?"

"Because dating someone your own age never makes sense."

"How so?"

"You don't just know love. It's not something we were born with. By the time you learned it, your days have run out."

She edged closer to me again, and put her small hand on my shoulder. "If I were a young man like you, I'd look further. Someone older, someone more experienced."

Her hand travelled upward to measure my throat and jaw. Her hand was cold. I could hear her heart beating like wild. She was suddenly someone I had never met. I wished she could stay with me like this forever.

At that moment something went off in the kitchen.

"My cookies!" She sprang out of the couch. "They have to be so good. You haven't a clue. You must love them." With quick faint steps she vanished out of sight. There came sounds of items knocking each other off.

"Darn it!" Her voice was rather desperate.

I hoped Mrs. Waffles was okay.

I looked around. It wasn't my first time in Matt's home, though I was never alone. I stood by the window and gazed at the sea. Then I turned to the shelves. There were lots of books, and some of them were very old and in odd foreign letters.

Matt once told me most of them belonged to his mom. She was something of an enthusiast. Mr. Waffles on the other hand preferred fishing and conquering nature.

The chaos in the kitchen died down. I began to pick up the scent of freshly baked cookies. She really made the best cookies in the world.

There was the bottled ship again. It had water in there and the ship was floating. I examined the piece closely. Everything was detailed and well-made. I wondered how the mast and sail fit through the narrow bottleneck.

Then I noticed something moving on the ship.

At first I thought some spiders had made their way in there. Then I saw that they were actual sailers. Two tiny figures lay on the deck. They were sunbathing. One was holding a fishing rod in its hand, and the little silver hook was dangling halfway in the bottle. The other seemed bored out of its mind.

I pressed my nose on the bottle. The tiny sailers were blissfully unaware of my presence. I took the bottle down from its rack and rocked it a little. That made a storm in there. I watched them hurry to get up; one was instructing the other to take down the sail.

I put the bottle back. Soon things inside went back to their idyllic state.

I wanted to say these sailers were trapped, but they were so absorbed in their little world that they didn't seem distressed at all. Even the ship appeared to be in the act of sailing, only it wasn't moving an inch.

I laughed and laughed at this strange wonder. Then I began to suspect something was very wrong with me.

"Mrs. Waffles?" My voice was very small.

Maybe the gas was leaking. My mother almost got killed like that when she was young. Or something worse. As I walked towards the kitchen, I recalled a reenactment photo of that famous suicide. Someone told me it was always the least expected people.

I covered my eyes with my hands, leaving only a slit between fingers.

The oven was turned off. Hot sweet air still came off its dark opened mouth. The cookies were resting on the counter in a tray, peacefully, like newborns in incubators spending their first night on Earth.

"Mrs. Waffles?"

There was no one else in the kitchen.

Then I heard footsteps, light as feather. They ended directly behind me.

"Luke."

"Luke Panini."

Her voice was buttery, full of maple syrup. "My little big boy."

I turned around. "Mrs. Waffles," I stuttered. "your clothes are missing."

"Call me Mag, love. Don't you think it is better this way?" She put her index and middle fingers on my lips, "no, just, don't argue. Shhh." She held my wrist and guided my hand to her. She had lots of hair down there.

"Grab it," she whispered. "Grab a fistful. Hard. Harder." She raised herself on tiptoe and slipped her tongue inside my mouth.

She had me sit on the dining table and took off my pants.

"God. Look at you. One day you were a wee thing and the next you changed into this big man," she wrapped me around her fingers. "So much bigger than John's. What a beauty."

The house was full of windows. I got afraid. "What if Matt and Mr. Waffles see us?"

"If they are not here now they won't be back until dinner's time. Stop worrying and give me your hands. Here. Such nice big hands."

We locked fingers together, and she started using her mouth. Her hands were ice cold but inside her mouth was the warmest place I had known.

She had such a hunger for me. I tried but couldn't last long. I watched her clench her jaws and swallow slowly. Afterwards she wiped her mouth with a piece of napkin.

"That was nice. You did alright. Was it your first?"

Her voice was sullen. I found myself tearing up. It was too much. She climbed onto the table and put my head in her lap. She gave me a cookie from the tray and I chewed for a long time. Then she raised my head and let me suck her nipples. They were brown and hard.

"You will be ready again in no time, my baby," she checked my hair as if for fleas. Her voice went soft again.

She brought me back in the living room. There she crawled onto the couch and spread her legs.

"Come. Give it a taste. Make yourself comfortable." Her hands reached up to pillow her head. I lay down and pressed my lips on her sex. Those dense brown curls made me think of my uncle's beard. I kept kissing and licking.

I took a peek at Mrs. Waffles. Whatever I did was working. She made some impressive noise. From here her nose looked like a volcano.

"Don't stop, don't stop," she was on another planet. I was trying to get into her with my tongue.

By accident I went a little too south.

"God!" She buried her face to one side and started shivering. I just kept going like she asked and her shaking got worse. I felt her muscles contract and warm rain landed on me in quick golden spurts.

When it was done I climbed on her and sucked her breasts. They were soft and fun. She caressed my back in a set rhythm, like windshield wipers.

"I'm worried, Luke. I'm worried that those college girls will disappoint you deeply." She yawned. "They don't know how good they're having it. They will take things for granted."

I was happy. I just made Mrs. Waffles come, and I was getting hard again. I caught her nipple between my teeth and hurt her deliberately. She gasped, and then kissed my forehead fondly. She had just given birth and I was the newborn.

I told her I was ready to go.

She left and came back with something. It was a little bottle. She opened it and poured the oily content into her palm. It had a strong herbal smell.

"What is that?"

"Some secret to spice things up. Don't tell anyone," she robbed it all along my shaft and then rounded up the tip.

The mystery oil was dulling my senses down there. I felt less of her touches, but those filtered through were much thicker. Like she was pricking my soul.

Then she placed both her feet on my shoulders.

"Now fuck me like I am your mother."

The sun was sinking. Soon it would cross the line where the sea melt into the sky. We lay in each other's arms, covered in sweat. I had become her true son and I might have just given her another one.

Amidst her disheveled hair Mrs. Waffles studied me. She was breathing hot air on my face.

"Luke, don't leave. Stay with me tonight. I'll teach you everything I know."

"What about Matt and your husband?"

"They won't be back tonight, tomorrow, or the day after. In fact they were sailing to the Bahamas. They are probably there now."

"But doesn't Matt need to go to school on Monday?"

"Don't you worry about that kid. It's us now. Tonight we fuck. Tonight we get drunk on good wine." She bent down to fit her mouth around my cock. Soon I was on top of her again, rocking her like a boat, her fingernails digging into my back.

"Deeper, deeper!" She screamed on top of her lungs like a madwoman.

Mrs. Waffles' face was flushed with a wholesome red again. She was looking younger with each climax. I was imbuing life into her. Soon she could be mistaken for my sister.

I thought about that time I came for Matt's video games. That day he was being a little beside himself. That time we didn't play games. He had something else on his screen. He invited me to beat our meat together at it.

"You'll come right off this shit, buddy. Just - imagine you're the one on the left." He was quite excited, his hand fiddling in his shorts. He was almost speechless.

They were on his screen, twitching senselessly on two ends of a long, purple dildo. The two of them looked exact the same, even their moves were coordinated. They were having the time of their lives, fucking and being fucked on a shared dildo.

I thought of that as I made love to Mrs. Waffles. I was getting good. I looked around this beautiful seaside mansion. It was mine now. I looked at that little ship, and it was still sailing and sailing in the bottle. Going nowhere.