This is the final chapter of my first story, 'A Reluctant Corruption'. I hope you enjoy it.
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Saturday
My eyes are open, but I cannot see. I have been here before. I feel the same eerie presence lurking in the dark, silently surveying me.
"Hello?" I call out, but my words echo back, unanswered.
I begin feeling my way through the long, dank hallway. The dust on the cold, smooth floor suggests years of neglect. There are no screams to guide me this time, no twinkle of candlelight under a door frame. If the monster has my mother again, it is out of earshot. I walk and walk until I hit a wall of stone.
"You're lost."
I spin back the way I came. An old woman stands in the corridor, illuminated, but not by candle or any exterior light source. She smiles, the same mischievous expression she possessed when first bestowing me the black diamond necklace.
"What are you?" I pose the question that has been nagging me for days. The gray-haired witch with the vanishing store and the power to make me fall in love with someone I swore to hate.
'It sounds ludicrous.'
She steps closer and touches my cheek.
"So young to be so cynical," she states. Her eyes seem to search my face before continuing, "You've reestablished the bond with your mother, otherwise, we could not be having this conversation."
The mention of my mother triggers a vicious cyclone of emotions. The violation, humiliation, dirtiness, and shame of what I'd just done, treating her body like some sexual toy, all in the hope of winning her back. Why couldn't I see it before? The heinous deed, only made worse by the knowledge that I would do it all over again for even the smallest chance of reviving her lost memories.
"It was never going to be easy. Not when your relationship was so splintered to begin with," she consoles.
I shake my head.
"I
need
to find the necklace. Where is it?" I implore.
"Its job is done. You oversee your own fate now."
"Bullshit! I can't even think straight half the time. My plan was completely insane. When my mother wakes up, she's just going to hate me more, and the second my dad gets home, I'm gone. I'm literally fucked without the necklace!"
The old woman in her floral tunic spreads her hands to the darkness before us.
"Are you curious where you are?"
"Not particularly," I reply, tasting the bitter air.
"We're standing in the capital of what once was the greatest kingdom on earth. A place snuffed out and uninhabited for thousands of years."
"I think I preferred my graduation field better because I can't see shit."
She drops her outstretched hands back to her sides.
"Not every lesson is meant to be witnessed. The Queen who last reigned here loved her son more than anything else in the world. Her sacrifice to preserve that love long beyond her passing, to spread that ultimate connection between mother and son... It's the only reason your fortune found you in my shop."
"How does that help me now?" I fail to grasp her point..
"She succumbed to your advances, didn't she?" the old lady submits.
'I mean, she was drunk.'
"Her body is uninhibited, but her mind is still detached. Dominating her will only get you so far. It will not mend your hearts. It is your job to make her feel special like only a son can. To liberate her fully, to awaken what has been lost, you must value her above all else."
"How?!"
"Never take her for granted. Act on your desires and make sure to respect hers."
"But what will make her remember?" I ask, growing agitated.
"Oh, simple. A kiss," she says softly.
"I already kissed her."
"Not some smutty, vindictive, forced kiss. It must be a genuine seal of your bond that can only occur once she recognizes that losing you would produce an unbearable sense of loss and despair. And that will only happen once you've truly forgiven her."
"I thought I had, but seeing her turn back into this..." I feel the dream weakening.
"We either conquer our hate or become its vessel. I would have never given the necklace to you if I didn't know you were strong enough to do the right thing."
I start to laugh. "The right thing? How is any of this right?"
My grip on this reality slips as her voice starts to fade and the dream dissolves.
"A mother's love is unparalleled. Prove to her that you are the man she deserves. Prove to yourself that you have what it takes."
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When I wake up it's early morning. The sun is using the shades to sketch lines on the carpet. I'm no longer spooning my mother. We must have shifted positions overnight because now her head is resting on my stomach, a bit of drool sticking her cheek to my belly. My morning wood salutes her. Her small belly button gently rises and falls in conjunction with her heavy breaths. I place one hand between her flat tummy and her shaved mound and press down on the well-toned abdomen.
She lets out a sigh, and I watch in fascination as a dollop of yellowy congealed goop seeps out of her vagina. A week full of pent-up energy has sent me pumping an enormous amount of the destructive liquid into her cooch. How much remains slithering about inside of her? I Clumps of jizz knot in her hair, splashing her cheeks, forehead, and chin. Her necklace is caked with the stuff.
'Maybe I overdid it.'
I don't dare move and unsettle her, so I close my eyes and try with little success to doze off.
"Emmph." She stirs, sitting up clenching her eyes shut and massaging her temples.
Feeling the cum on her face, her first words are, "What the... Uggh," she gags twice. Her eyes grow round as saucers and the sober panic on her face is much scarier than the inebriated repugnance I'd quarreled with last night.
"Mom. It's alright," I broach calmly, placing my hands on her shoulders before she thinks to pull away.
"Wha-wha?" I can see her trying desperately to arrange her thoughts and piece together the night's events, only to go white as a sheet as the replayed memory hits her like a bus.
As if biting the Apple of Eden, she yelps and grabs a balled-up sheet, using it to cover her boobs and slit. When she notices my giant erection, she tries to wriggle free, but I keep my hands glued to her shoulders.
"Jacob, let me up," she says in a stern yet wary tone.
"I will. I promise," I say trying to meet her eyeline, but she keeps turning her head, pupils bouncing around the whole room. She taxes every brain cell she has to figure out what to do in this scenario.
I continue, "We need to talk about last night, first."
"You need to let me up, now," she repeats, doing her best to stop her voice from shaking.
"If you just hear me ou-"
"Jacob. This is not a discussion," she interrupts with perfected parental dissension. "I am using the restroom. I am cleaning myself up. I am getting dressed. You will leave this room. Go get dressed and shower. And wait in the kitchen. Got it?"
How she manages to express confidence in such a state is a testament to her inner strength. I immediately let her go, feeling like an unruly child, and watch her scamper into the restroom. A few seconds later there's a shriek, followed by both the sink and the shower starting.
Before I get up to leave, I grab her phone and laptop just to be safe. It takes me all of ten minutes to shower and throw on a new outfit. It would be one thing if I had weeks to indoctrinate her back into our old life. The fantasy of fucking her senseless until she was strung out in a carnal fugue overflowing with hot, thick jizz, from every possible orifice sounds hot but was not happening. Besides, the point of sex was not to own and control her. Ultimately, I wanted her love, not a conditioned Stockholm patient.
I spend the minutes checking the search history on my mother's computer. Everything up until the day of my father's return to Italy was deleted or cleared from memory. But in the last few days, it appears I wasn't the only one logging into porn websites. Unfortunately, none of her queries seemed to involve incest, which might have made this easier. But there were some older woman/younger man videos. I just hope she wasn't thinking about Reece when watching them.
I start a pot of coffee and wait for my mother to leave her room. After an hour I'm tempted to knock, but I hold off.
'Best to do as she says for now.'
At 11:13AM I hear the door open and see her carry a basket of bed linens to the laundry room.
She then enters the kitchen sporting black sweats and a large t-shirt. The choice is a stronger concession to modesty than I'd seen in a good while.
'She's trying to cover up.'
Her brunette hair is parted down the middle, washed, and combed free of tangles. Even without makeup and jewelry, one would still guess she was closer to 30 than 40.
"I made coffee," I state to break the ice.
She heads to the cabinet and picks out a whiskey glass. Then she moves to the pantry and grabs a bottle of the caramel-colored liquid.
'Uh oh.'
The refrigerator gargles and ejects a few fat ice cubes into the cup. She pops open the seal and pours out a shot, slugs it back, winces, and refills the glass about halfway.
"I want the truth, Jacob. Did you drug me last night?"
"No. I would never."
She broods over her beverage. The buzz from the lawn mower next door gets louder as the lawn guy moves closer to the house.
"Are you sure? You didn't slip me something when I wasn't looking?"
I shake my head vigorously. She slouches back in the chair across from me, confusion etched on her pretty oval face.
"They teach you sex education in school. Do you have any idea how serious, no—Catastrophic it would be if I became pregnant?"
"I -uh."
I think of all the creampies over the last few weeks she doesn't remember, but she continues.
"I don't want to talk about what happened. I don't understand what happened. It was wrong. And you can't be here when your father comes back."
