Everything Happens For A Reason 2

It wasn't my proudest day. What came before drunkenly slumping against the front door of our house in the middle of the night was sketchy at best. There was karaoke, I remember that. I recall a bar lined with shot glasses and kissing an equally as inebriated older woman. Apart from fleeting images, most of the night was a mystery, including how I made it home.

I was celebrating my ability to find the right key, subsequently the keyhole when the door opened and it caused me to fall inwards, clutching whatever came to hand. Unfortunately for her, it was my mother that acted as my life preserver. I gripped a handful of the sleeve of her dressing gown and it was enough to bring her down with me, her legs buckling as I dragged her to the floor of the dimly lit hallway.

She did a great job of muffling her scream of surprise and the laugh that followed; my slurred apologies weren't as discreet however and the hall light came on overhead. We'd, (I'd) awoken my stepfather.

"What the fuck is this?" Frank yelled from the far end of the corridor, his just awoken face ashen, combover ridiculously ineffective from the pillow and beer gut protruding below a yellowed wifebeater. Astride my mother, I looked back down where her gown had come apart at the breast, a boob pressed hard against the satin and lace nightie she wore underneath.

"It's alright Frank," Mom defended the situation she'd found herself in, re-wrapping her gown as she rolled out from beneath me. "We just fell is all."

"We?" Frank quoted. "HIS drunken ass fell. I've had enough of this Evie, your boy's moving out."

I was in no state to defend myself at the time and didn't try. I managed to slump against the wall and a cabinet and uncomfortable as it was, prepared to fall asleep there and then. Mom had other ideas however, and as the shadow of Frank disappeared from the scene, she reached down and attempted to get me to my feet.

"What?" I meekly enquired as she took hold of my arm in an attempt to lift me.

"Come on Ashley, help me out here," she pleaded and I found it in myself to rise with her labours. "My god is that vomit?" She looked at the shoulder of my shirt and the recollection of a girl barfing beside me in a nightclub came to mind, washing my shirt later in the toilets.

"Iss not mine," I defiantly slurred but Mom was understandably disgusted just the same.

"Oh God, let's get you in the shower," she sighed as my arm wrapped around her shoulder and she led me along the hall. "You need to sober up."

*

The light in the bathroom was far too bright but Mom didn't seem to share my sentiments as she unceremoniously dumped me on the closed seat of the toilet and leaned into the walk-in shower to turn it on. Testing the temperature, steam began to fill the room before she returned to me and reached for the buttons of my shirt.

"This has to stop Ashley," she beseeched, as I marvelled at her finger's dexterity. In my state, it would've taken five minutes to do what she'd done in seconds. My shirt dragged down my arms and thrown to the ground, she knelt between my spread knees and pressed her hand to the name tattooed across my chest. "He wouldn't have wanted this," her glassy eyes found mine as she traced her fingers across the letters of my father's name. "You're killing yourself Baby."

The alcohol loosening my tongue and amplifying my emotion, I allowed my tears to flow. "I just miss him so much," I admitted.

"I know Baby," Mom leaned in and kissed my forehead, so close I could smell her own tears as she hugged me, her breath so warm against my cheek. "I know. I miss him too."

Nearing two years since my father's death, the hurt remained. My best friend, my idol, my dad, was taken from us by a hit run driver whilst on his weekly bike ride, their identity still unknown which added to our grief and denied closure. Mom had hidden her pain, anger and heartbreak under a veneer of stoicism, a new relationship, a hasty marriage with Dad's best friend. Me, I'd sleepwalked for over a year, little focus on my life or career. Tattooing my body weekdays, the pain cathartic, drinking myself to oblivion each weekend to forget, to quell the anger I felt at the injustice. A red Toyota. Was all the police could tell us. The glass left at the scene, narrowing the culprit down to a range of models. Serious damage would have been made to the passenger side, a broken windshield, a missing wiper blade. Apart from that, we had nothing.

"...But this won't bring him back," she continued, referring to my drinking, pulling back and looking me in the eye once more. "And I can't lose you too."

Her words slapped me across the face. It was true. And even drunk as I was, I could see the sense she spoke, the stupidity of my self abuse. I managed a smile, lifting a hand to wipe her tears as they ran her cheek, then my own, our fluids mingling.

"Look at us," I was able to muse.

"Us?" Mom quoted. "Look at you!" She grinned. "Is that more vomit on your jeans?"

I lazily looked down, the room beginning to spin. I remembered spilling food at one point in the night and I assumed it was to what she referred, her hands reaching for my fly.

"W..what are you doing?"

"Getting your pants off," she incredulously replied. "You stink!"

She managed to unbuckle my belt before I had the energy and sense to stop her.

"It's okay," I laughed. "I can do it myself."

She smirked as she looked up at my face and stood before me.

"Alright," she backed away to the shower and once more tested the temperature. "Water's running," she stated. "Get in!"

I watched her leave, closing the door behind herself and I clumsily removed my pants and stumbled beneath the flow of warm water.

*

How long I stood there? I couldn't ascertain. How long I sat on the floor, the water cascading upon my neck and flowing over my naked body? I didn't care. The warmth was comfort, the massaging spray, soothing. So tired, I slumped my chin down upon my chest and allowed sleep to approach.

"What are you doing?" I was jolted awake and still dizzyingly drunk looked up to see Mom outside the shower.

"What?"

"You've been in here for nearly twenty minutes," she explained. "Have you even washed yourself?"

Washing myself was the least of my priorities when I struggled to understand where I even was, looking around the shower recess vacantly.

"Oh Jesus, stand up," Mom commanded and easier said than done, I lazily rose to a knee. Seeming to be my guardian angel, Mom reached down and took hold of an arm, assisting my assent and I eventually stood before her completely naked.

It took me a moment to realize it and as she reached for a shower puff hanging from a tap, I covered my groin with my hands.

"What are you doing?" I questioned as she pumped soap onto the sponge.

Her eyes dropped down to my crotch and smirking she let out a tut. "Bit late for that isn't it? Come on, hold onto something."

"But what are you...?"

"Well, you're obviously incapable of washing yourself..." she trailed off, wetting the sponge as I relented and raised hands either side of myself.

My legs parted, one hand holding the lip of the glass partition the other against the tiled wall, I stood star-like as she pressed the soapy sponge against my tattooed chest. The water sprayed against my back and splattered over my shoulders as she lathered and the sleeve of the dressing gown quickly became saturated. "Just a moment," she muttered as she slipped out of the shower and I watched her remove the gown, throwing it over the bath. The glimpse of an alleged nightie as I fell on her in the hallway was a misidentification. She in fact wore what I could only describe as a romper. White satin, it was as tight on her torso as a bodysuit, lace detail on the hip of the boy-short and at her cleavage.

She again entered the shower and once more took to her task, the sponge upon my arms, underarms, down onto my belly. The tentacles of the unfinished octopus tattooed on my back wrapped around and reached down to my groin and Mom had no qualms following their path with the sponge, her hand brushing across my flaccid cock.

This was not normal.

"Turn around," she matter-of-factly ordered and recovering from the fact my mother had essentially just touched my dick (albeit with a sponge) I followed her direction. The water against my face, I luxuriated in the feeling of her washing my back, her soapy hand massaging down onto my buttocks, even between my upper thighs. I looked down at my dick and was thankful of the power of alcohol, a semi-erect state the most I could achieve. And upon turning, as she took it upon herself to turn off the shower, I was even more thankful. Almost as if she'd splashed water upon herself deliberately, (surely not) the front of her pajama was saturated. Her nipples clearly visible through the wet material and more importantly, a dark patch of pubic hair at her groin.

"Can you dry yourself?" She asked as she passed me a fresh white towel and I made a point of not staring at her essentially naked body. One naked family member at a time, I joked with myself as I admitted I was able. I was coming to terms with what I had seen, slyly taking another peek in the mirror as she took her gown from the bath, when she turned back. "Go to bed. I'll bring you a drink of water. And be quiet. Don't wake Frank again."

I didn't have time to confirm her plea as she quickly exited the room, wrapping herself once more and taking the illicit temptation to spy upon her near nudity out of my hands. I looked down at my own nakedness in the mirror and was shocked at my cock twitching into life. Don't even think about it, I told myself before wrapping the towel around my waist and following her lead out of the bathroom.

I padded, still dripping, to my room and with the small bedside lamp already on, fell upon my bed. It was only seconds later when Mom entered and placed a large glass of water upon my bedside table. "Drink it all before you go to sleep," she suggested and I rose up on an elbow and did as she said before slumping once more onto my pillow. "Did you not even dry your hair?" She chuckled to herself and to my surprise sat on the bed beside me.

I turned to look up at her and she reached down and brushed my wet hair off my face.

"You silly boy," she whispered. "What am I going to do with you?"

The little light the lamp provided revealed her fringe as well was wet and it dragged me back to us in the shower together. If I'd been sober, if I'd been thinking rationally, what possibly would've happened? Her hands had felt so good on my body. Even if I tried to deny it, seeing her in the wet see-through pajamas was arousing, despite the fact she was my mother. Or was it because she was my mother? Some part of my brain was still functioning and I informed myself that had I not been drunk, none of this would've happened in the first place. I wouldn't be thinking these bizarre, bordering on incestuous thoughts because the situation wouldn't have arisen. It was a paradox. Or was I just drunk?

I closed my eyes and the room spun but it took more energy to open them than I had and went with the effect. Mom ran her hand over the skin of my back and I could feel she was once more tracing the outline of my octopus tattoo. Her touch so light, so pleasant, goosebumps formed across my flesh and the feeling chased away the nausea. "Shhhh," she quietly soothed and it led me back to my childhood. Settling me to sleep as a boy, her comforting touch, her breath and scent. When everything was right with the world and my father was still with us. I felt so calm. I felt so loved. I felt sleep approaching and welcomed it with open arms....

*

I dreamed.

I dreamed of a girl from high-school I had a crush on but could never summon the courage to approach. We were in my room, on the bed and I was naked. No. I was dressed in a towel and as I rolled over it unwrapped, my cock hard for her. Amy was her name but when I looked upon her face it was that of my mother. It WAS a dream. Her hand slid across my belly and wrapped my erection and I pushed my groin up into her embrace. She leaned forward and her lips pressed to my chest, kissing the letters of my dead father's name. "You look so much like him..." Amy, my mother(?) whispered and her kisses descended. I wanted to kiss her myself but this was just as good. With eyes closed I felt her lips upon the head of my cock and then she was around me. It seemed so natural, and as I came in her mouth, we weren't just mother and son, we were now lovers.

*

It WAS a dream.

As I awoke to a headache sent from the devil himself and swore to myself I'd never drink again, I thought of the night. Had I seriously been in the shower with Mom? The memory was stark. Most vivid, the sight of her pubic hair, her nipples visible though the wet satin. That happened. As did her soaping my body, her hand between my legs, brushing across my cock. Jesus, had I been hard? No, I was sure of that. Upon the bed. She'd touched my back, of this I was positive, goosebumps as she traced the tentacles of the octopus. I hadn't rolled... The dream came back to me. The towel unwrapped. It WAS a dream. It wasn't my mother, it was Amy. That had not happened.

*

"I'm telling you, he's moving out," Frank insisted for the third time that morning. I hugged my coffee in my hands and thanked the lord for the invention of sunglasses.

"You know how much rent is at the moment," Mom declared. "He can't afford it on his wage."

"Then he can get a second job," Frank proposed. "I'm done Evie. It's my house, that's it, it's over."

There was a pause in the conversation and I was in no hurry to say anything, happy to let Mom do the talking for me.

"What about your apartments on East St?" Mom proposed and I was surprised to see the color drain from Frank's face. "They're still under-occupied. We could reduce the rent a little for Ashley, couldn't we?"

I knew the building Mom was referring to and even with a 'little' reduction in rent I doubt I'd be able to afford it.

"What do you say?" She put him on the spot. "Having Ash there would be good for security as well," she added.

The color returned, this time with a vengeance, turning his cheeks rosy. Little reason for him to deny my mother's suggestion, he reluctantly agreed to at least think about it. Shirtless, I crossed the kitchen and emptied the cooled remainder of my mug into the sink.

"It'll be worth it to not have to look at that disgusting thing on his back anymore," my stepfather snidely referred to the octopus and I didn't take the bait, allowing his comment to hang as I made myself scarce.

*

Frank's property portfolio had extended to building an overpriced white elephant of an apartment complex in a relatively low socioeconomic area, hoping to gentrify the neighbourhood by stealth. In the three years since its inception, it hadn't worked and most of the ten units remained vacant.

"I seriously can't afford this," I looked around at the spacious living area, leading into the kitchen.

"It's alright," Mom responded. "Frank's giving it to us at half the rate and I can always help you out if you get behind."

I noted she said 'us,' but I was pretty sure she wasn't moving in with me. Would that be so bad, I pondered?

"What's with all the cameras?" I nodded up to the security system installed in many of the rooms, Mom shaking her head.

"Overcapitalising," she replied. "You know he offered your dad and I to go partners when he built."

"Wise decision not to?" I asked.

"Two other tenants in three years, no buyers. Oh, you betcha!" Mom laughed as we walked back out onto the balcony overlooking the communal pool. A ridiculously hot blond exited the shallow end and lay upon a lounge and I lowered my sunglasses to pay her the attention she deserved. "So, when are you moving in?" Mom asked.

The girl reached behind and undid the top of her bikini to allow full access to the sun and I couldn't help grinning.

"As soon as possible," I laughed.

*

A friend helped me move on the Sunday and although I'd been comfortable living with Frank and Mom, I could see the benefit to my own place immediately. More than two years without an occupant and apparently only sporadic inspections, had seen an impressive coating of dust settle over every surface and Mom having Mondays off, had promised to drop by and clean for me. The thought of coming home from work Monday night to my own luxury apartment, freshly cleaned, possibly going for a swim, even more possibly meeting 'the blond,' had me for once feeling good about the world and I had to admit, it was my stepfather Franklin that I had to thank.

I stretched my back in my office chair and once more looked at the time. Only 1:30pm and still four hours until I'd leave work for the day. My phone buzzed from its position in the desk drawer and curious as to the unexpected chime, I retrieved it, looking down between the cubicles to see I wasn't at risk of being spotted by my supervisor.

It was an alert from the security system I'd spent two hours the night before attempting to set up in the apartment. The message was a screenshot of Mom entering the pin code to access the house and I smiled at the paused image of her frowning at the screen, clearly having entered the wrong numbers, before once more putting it away and concentrating on work.

It was only minutes later it chimed again from the drawer and this time I was annoyed at its intrusion...but not for long.

The automated alert was the system informing me it had detected motion inside the house and once more a screenshot of the action it had captured. I immediately looked up from the screen to be sure I wasn't observed, then back down at my phone. It was the hallway of my apartment and standing bent forward slightly over a vacuum cleaner was my mother...totally naked.

Well not totally. She wore what looked to be Skechers on her feet, a bandana holding her hair in place. Apart from that, she was nude. My mother. In my house, cleaning whilst naked. Shocked, I plunged my phone into my pocket and quietly mentioned to my colleague I was going to the bathroom in case I was missed.

My plan hadn't been the obvious. I wasn't even hard at that stage! No. I needed space alone to think and once inside a cubicle, and only then, did I retrieve my phone. I opened the app for the security system and attempted to get the live feed from my house. Nothing doing, informing me I needed to activate the function on the system itself and I cursed the overlook. Going back to the one image I had of my mother, her breasts hanging, an arm frustratingly obscuring her pussy from view as it held the vacuum. But I'd seen it before, hadn't I? I told myself as I felt my cock stir in my pants. In the shower, albeit through the saturated satin. All the same, it was now twice in a week my mother had appeared before me in an undressed state. Coincidence?

*

She was gone of course, when I arrived home. The blond was once again at the pool and any other day, any other time, I'd have made an effort to meet her. Not today. I was on a mission.

The house was spotless but it was last on my mind as I beelined to the laptop and accessed the surveillance footage captured during the day. Yes, it could be considered an invasion of privacy as I scrolled to the point of Mom arriving at my front door but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her, I decided.

Everything was captured. Footage from the doorbell camera of her entering the wrong number. Finally accessing the house, two buckets hanging from one hand, her Dyson and a mop cradled under the other arm. She wore a dress, mid-thigh and light and I fast forwarded as she went through the motions of opening windows, filling a bucket with water. And then what I'd come for. She paused as she stood in the living room beside the couch and for a moment placed her hands on her hips, looking around the room. Action. In one sweep she took hold of the hem of her dress and lifted it up her body, what looked from the front to be a skimpy white thong coming into view. She was bra-less, the 4K cameras picking up even the tan lines around her large breasts.