Disclaimer
: All characters in this fictional story are 18 years old or older.
A familiar costumer (3/3)
John felt sick. He was lying on his bed, his eyes closed, trying not to think about the absurd situation he had put himself into. But his mind kept wandering back to that moment.
Let's call it a family discount
she had said. John had been in a haze at the time, still in the afterglow of having just busted his balls all over his mother's tongue.
The implications of those words had only began to sink in when he had stepped out onto the street. They confused him, more than anything. Did she know who he was? And if so, why had she not exposed him? In fact, if she really knew, why had she still given him a blowjob? Or had she meant nothing by it, and he was racking his brain pointlessly?
He had spent the whole bus ride home thinking about it, panicking even. And yet, several hours later he could still not make any sense of it, whichever way he turned it in his head. His mother had not yet returned, and he was dreading the moment she would step through the front door.
Several scenarios were playing out in his head. Maybe she'd kick him out of the house. He'd be homeless. Or worse, he'd go to jail. He took a deep breath, trying to get his head out of the panic spiral he was falling back into again.
"If she knew, she would have exposed me then and there," he thought, trying to calm himself. "Also, she wouldn't have sucked me off if she thought the guy on the other side might be me, right? Right?"
It was too confusing. Her words could be misconstrued in any way. Maybe she had meant that he was just very young compared to her, when she had said he could be her son, not in the literal sense of the words. Maybe she had been fishing for a reaction, and just tried to get him to slip up. Expose himself as the pervert he was.
The thought made him giggle uncontrollably. He had exposed himself all right. The giggle turned into an outright laughing fit and he almost fell of his bed as his body shook with each wave of laughter. All the stress seemed to melt away at that moment and he suddenly felt very tired. Tears were running down his face, he couldn't tell whether he was crying from laughter or fear. He was so very tired
When the front door did eventually open, he only faintly recognized the sound, somewhere deep in his subconscious, as he was fast asleep by then. It filled his dreams with giant doors, opening in front of him though he was unable to ever glimpse past them into the next room. No matter how close he got, the door always seemed to be one more step away, on the verge of opening fully.
Suddenly the door frame zoomed past him and he fell into a pitch-black room. He heard his mother's voice, singing a lullaby from his childhood, coming from the door he had just passed through. He wanted to go back but a huge shadowy mass was trying to get through the half-closed door, blocking his way. He turned and ran. He knew the shadow was after him.
His mother's voice was getting ever more silent, drowned out by the loud revving of an engine. John could feel the heavy footfall of the shadow behind him. He didn't dare turn around. It almost had him. He knew. He looked over his shoulder anyways and was blinded by glaring head lights. He screamed as the shadow tackled him.
◊
John woke with a yelp. His heart was beating like a drum in his chest. Looking around he realized he had fallen out of his bed. His rib cage was aching, so, he climbed back into his bed and sat on the side. Already the dream was fading. He shook his head trying to banish the disturbing pictures.
A look out the window told him it was still early morning. He took a few minutes focusing on his breath and his heartbeat until he felt calm and collected. Then, with a hammer blow, he remembered the events of the night before and all his collectedness went out the window along with his calmness.
What was he going to do? He had expected his mother to waken him up when she eventually would have come home. Was she waiting for him downstairs right now? He was doing it again, he realized.
"One step at a time," he told himself, and got up to listen at his door. Nothing.
Being very careful not to make any sound he cracked open the door and peered out into the hallway. It was deserted, but he now could hear the radio playing down stairs, and the smell of bacon wafted around his nose. Suddenly he realized how hungry he was. He had completely forgotten to eat something in all the excitement of yesterday's events.
John sighed. There was nothing for it. He couldn't hide from his mom forever. So, he changed into something fresh and made his way downstairs to the kitchen. Trying not to look suspicious he mustered all his confidence and walked into the room. His mom was already up, and in a hurry as usual. With one hand she was trying to spread butter on a toast, while simultaneously scooping coffee powder into the coffee machine with the other.
John couldn't help but laugh when she catapulted the toast on to the floor, and immediately earned a severe look from her.
"Oh, so you think that's funny, huh," she asked sarcastically, "How about you help me instead of just standing around uselessly, gaping at your mother! I gotta get to work!"
John forgot all about his fears for the moment as the immediate danger of his mother not getting her morning coffee was to be avoided at all costs. Only after he had set the table for them and they were settling down for breakfast proper did his mind return to his pressing concerns.
The fact she hadn't just confronted him calmed him a little bit. But he still had his suspicions.
"So, you got home late last night," he probed carefully, "had a fun evening?"
He eyed her suspiciously trying to catch anything she might be concealing.
But his mother was unreadable as she replied "Yeah, I went for a bite with some colleagues of mine. The food was amazing, I almost choked."
John thought he could make out a slight grin on her face but he wasn't sure. He was preoccupied not spitting out his own food at her remark anyways. Was she testing him?
"How do you know when I got home anyways," she suddenly asked, turnig the question around on him. "I thought I told you not to wait for me?"
John got the distinct feeling she was examining his face for any trace of a reaction so he quickly stuffed it with a large bite of his sandwich to give himself a moment to think.
After swallowing he replied "I didn't, not really. You hadn't come home yet when I went to bed. So, I just assumed, sorry."
He gave her an innocent smile, which she returned after a moment.
