Chapter 7 -- Love Is Blind
It was 11:00 Wednesday morning. Martha Baldwin sat in her parked car two blocks from home, wondering how she'd be able to face her best friend and her son after all the events that transpired the previous day.
She was wearing a tee shirt that was several sizes too big for her, and a pair of blue cut-off sweat pants, both of which were complements of Billy Cavanaugh. The loan had become necessary when young Billy, an eighteen-year-old basketball player and former teammate of her son, had ripped her shirt from her body, rendering the garment unfit for public display. The slacks had fared much better, and lie neatly folded in the back seat.
Billy's attack on her had been wild and determined, but not unwanted. In fact, it had taken quite a bit of urging on her part to get him started.
Throwing herself at teenagers was not something the 42 year-old woman normally did. But yesterday had been different. It started with her leaving work early and watching through the back window of her house as her naked, blindfolded best friend lay across her son's lap while he spanked her mercilessly. This was the very same best friend who'd seduced her into a lesbian encounter just the week before. And it got worse when Denise, still blindfolded, gave herself to two of Ted's friends, allowing them to completely have their way with her.
But the real problem was the jealousy that Martha felt for Denise, and the forbidden thoughts for her son that she couldn't get out of her mind.
So to solve her problem, to satisfy the unfulfilled desire that burned in her veins, she'd taken advantage of a chance encounter with young Billy Cavanaugh. After spending the night with him, surrendering herself completely to his every desire, she'd called in sick to work, borrowed something to wear, and started home. While the encounter had been immensely satisfying, it had not, unfortunately, lessened the yearnings she had for her son, or the jealousy she felt of her best friend.
Taking a deep breath, Martha put the car in drive and pulled away from the curb, heading for home.
* * *
"Are you sure?" Denise asked.
"As sure as I can be," Ted answered.
It was 7:30 that evening when Martha stepped out to run a quick errand. Ted wasted no time taking his story to Denise, Martha's best friend and temporary housemate -- not to mention his submissive lover.
"When she got home, she was wearing a tee-shirt and cut-off sweatpants," Ted explained. "Certainly not what she wore to work, and not the kind of garb you'd expect someone her own age to lend her.
"She was acting really nervous, which considering what she saw, isn't too surprising. But she was, I don't know, different somehow," he said, searching for the right words.
"Yeah," Denise said. "I noticed the same thing at dinner."
"Anyway, she headed straight for the shower and stayed there quite a while," Ted explained. "I snuck into her room, intending to look through her purse for any 'incriminating' evidence, but I never got that far. I saw the cut-off sweatpants lying inside out on the floor, with Billy Cavanaugh's name written across the inside of the waistline."
"But that doesn't prove it was him," Denise interjected. "It could have been his father, or his mother, for that matter."
"No," Ted responded. "I ran into Billy at the gym last week. He said his parents were in Hawaii for two weeks."
"Oh, my. It looks like we created a monster," Denise replied, a wry smile crossing her lips.
"Boy, would I love to have been a fly on the wall for that encounter," Ted said dreamily, finding it more and more difficult to see his mother in anything but a sexual context.
* * *
It was two nights later when Ted and Denise next discussed the matter. It had become increasingly apparent to both of them that Martha was in the midst of an enormous personal struggle. She was always nervous around them, fidgeting with her fingers, never looking either of them in the eyes. Further, she was always finding excuses to get out of the house, sometimes for a few minutes, sometimes for a few hours.
But what struck Ted most was the meekness, clearly not a trait he'd ever associated with his mother before.
"If I didn't know better," Ted said, "I'd swear she had feelings for me. Sexual feelings, I mean."
Denise looked at him, silent for a moment. "Trust me, she does," she finally said. "Women can sense these things. Just like I can sense that you have feelings for her."
For a moment neither spoke. Finally, without another word, Ted turned and headed for his room.
* * *
It was several hours later, long after Martha and Denise had headed off to their separate bedrooms for the night, before Ted finally left his room. He crept furtively to Denise's room, waking her carefully.
Thirty minutes later, he was back to his own room, a smile on his face, and his plan firmly in place.
* * *
Breakfast that Saturday morning had been an awkward affair, very little conversation and almost no eye contact. Even Ted's announcement of his plans to go to his buddy's cabin for the remainder of the weekend met very little interrogation from his mom, just a meek acceptance. He departed shortly after breakfast, leaving the two women alone.
Martha and Denise spent the remainder of the morning avoiding each other. It was sometime in the early afternoon when Martha headed out to do the weekly grocery shopping.
Denise was in her room when Martha returned. She listened as she brought in the groceries. It wasn't until she heard her beginning to put everything away that she left her room, heading for the kitchen.
The women made brief eye contact before Martha turned away. Denise made no effort to help her friend, choosing instead to stand silently and watch as Martha scurried about the kitchen. Only once did Martha stop what she was doing to look at Denise questioningly. When Denise just stood there, staring, Martha quickly went back about her business.
Martha was bent over at the waist putting the last of the groceries into the cupboard. She rose up and turned around, gasping when she bumped into Denise. Before she could react, Denise took her friend's face between her hands and pulled her close. For a moment, Martha froze, the internal conflict paralyzing her with thoughts of her son, of a naked and submissive Denise, and of a young and hungry Billy Cavanaugh. But her dilemma passed quickly as the emotions she'd kept bottled up inside her finally burst free.
