Mom Discovers She Likes Porn Too
Marcia Townshend unbuttoned her suit jacket and slid into the seat of her shiny silver Mercedes, and before she closed the door, she bent over to pull the black designer heels off her feet. She had to twist awkwardly with her trim knee-length black skirt so she could rub her sore soles; the pressure of her thumb digging into her instep doing wonders even for as little effect as it did. She gave a glance up at the small glass bowl on the concrete ceiling of the parking structure, sure that the security guy in his small booth was currently watching her.
In the male world in which she worked, she had long ago realized that she had to use every advantage that she could to help even the playing field. If she had to dress in tight blouses to reveal the size of her chest, while having a jacket or blazer over them to keep them hidden. The knee-length, or just shy of her knee, snug business skirts that she wore hinted at the legs and other curves that drew the 'old boys club' eyes. If the men she worked with were too busy staring at her figure, then her brains could do an end run around them. It was a strategy that had gotten her to where she was today. Sitting in an almost new luxury car wearing an expensive attire that possibly cost more than most women made in a week.
Marcia slipped her heels back on her feet with a shiver of discomfort, but she had never managed to get used to driving without footwear so she had to accept the twinges until she could get home.
Before Marcia started the German machine, she reached up and undid the pins in her luxurious burnished brown hair, letting it fall to her shoulders and giving her head a shake. She loved the feeling of her full tresses flowing free, but accepted that it didn't look as professional with it down instead of being pinned up in elaborate patterns.
She also took off the glasses she was wearing, as they were unnecessary now. They were fake, just plain unground lenses that she wore to look more intellectual. And that men seemed to find it fascinating when she would remove them and nibble at the end of the arm. It was a delicate balance of intelligence, unattainable allure, and a smidge of helplessness in the image of herself that she wanted to project to keep the men she worked with and for, off-balance. She then used her cunning, wits, and that same intelligence to work her way up the corporate ladder. She had fought and worked hard to earn her corner office on the twenty-third floor.
The car started with hardly a rumble, the precision engineering and powerful engine under her complete control.
Marcia maneuvered the vehicle through the concrete jungle of pillars and gave the small man in the booth a condescending wave as she drove past and out onto the crowded city streets. She twisted each of her feet in turn trying to relieve some of the ache. If it weren't for the stares her toned legs drew with the heels on, she would simply wear slippers. But also, for the fact that she loved the expensive shoes! Or any of the probably dozens of scores of pairs that she owned. It was a love/hate thing.
There was no love involved in the thirty-five-minute drive home. If there had been no traffic and no hindering of her speed, she knew she could do it in under ten minutes.
The time spent shuffling her car amidst the others going homeward did give her time to think and reflect on the day. Given a glass of wine during that time, it might even be pleasant. Save for the illegality and dangerousness of the thought.
At least the house wouldn't be empty when she got home.
It was ostentatious to have such a large house for only herself, but her husband, ex-husband rather, had decided that his secretary was more desirable than his house, his wife, and half his bank account. Her own salary was more than enough to live comfortably but she had her lawyer take the cheating bastard for all she could in retaliation for his humiliating her as he had done.
She was glad that her son Ryan had chosen to stay with her after the divorce. She wanted no forced hold on him and had let him decide which of his parents with which to live. Marcia thought it would have almost been just deserts if Ryan had picked his father and his floozy girlfriend to have to care for a teen-age son. But no, as tempting as that might have been, she was glad that Ryan had picked her.
Until he had gone off to college anyway.
He spent most of the year living near the university, studying his science stuff, most of which went over even her head.
During his summers off though, he came home to live. It was more affordable, as in free, to stay with his mother, only getting a job to pay for his own expenses. Not that he had much in the way of costs, as he watched his Netflix or whatever streaming service the kids were on now, played on his X-station, or hung out with friends that he didn't see for much of the year. He was currently without a girlfriend, so there were no extra expenses there. Marcia found that a little troubling, as she didn't want him out just screwing any girl with whom he could hook up. She wanted grandkids, but not just yet. She was only forty-five, much too young to have the pattering feet and cries of 'Nanna!'
While slightly distracted by her thoughts, Marcia almost didn't see the asshole in the overly large pickup change lanes in front of her. She tapped her brakes and hoped whoever was behind her was more focused than she. Marcia was sure the size of the offending truck said something about the driver's penis size.
She quickly forgot the pickup when it swerved into the lane beside her and off onto the exit ramp.
Marcia debated pulling out her phone and texting Ryan to let him know that she had gotten out of work early, which is to say, on time for a change, but the heavy traffic made that impossible. She really should buy some of those Bluetooth thingees. It made no difference; she would be home soon enough and they could then decide about dinner.
Ryan was thoughtful enough most of the time when he was home, to either, have prepared something or to have ordered something in. Not that she could count on that today, as she would be home about two hours earlier than usual. It would be nice for a change to get home before the sun went down!
A half an hour later Marcia was pulling into the long driveway of her house with a sigh of relief. Her feet were aching again. She parked the car near the front door as the weather was supposed to be clear overnight, but if that changed, she could have Ryan pull it in the garage. She debated about walking the few dozen feet to the front door without her shoes, but decided the hot concrete would be worse than the expensive heels. Besides, in ten minutes she could be sitting in her large tub filled with bubbly hot water sipping a cocktail soaking the day's stress away. Maybe she could even have Ryan bring her whatever they decided on for dinner and she could eat, drink, and listen to some Marvin Gaye or Barry White to relax.
Well, not Barry. That would only make her more conscious of the fact that she was lonely.
Not that she didn't have opportunities.
Hell, half the office would love to jump in the sack with her. None of them even discreetly hid that fact from her.
Marcia didn't want the complications of an office romance, or even the difficulties of a one-night stand with someone she would occasionally see at work, much less any of her male co-workers. And she just didn't have the time to go trolling bars for a guy just to screw, or the stomach for most of the losers she would inevitably have to deal with in such a hopeless quest.
No, she'd just stay home and soak in her tub. She'd listen to some Adele, or even maybe some Madonna.
The front door was unlocked, so she knew Ryan had to be home, his late-model-almost-beater car must be in the garage.
Marcia dropped her heels inside the door and had to reorient herself to the loss of the three inches of altitude. She strode down the entry hall to the living room where she could hear the flat-screen TV. She was about to call out her son's name when she saw a topless woman stride across the 70-inch screen. A topless woman that was very clearly not any Hollywood starlet in an R-rated flick.
Ryan was watching porn in her living room!
Marcia was almost afraid to look towards her son sitting on the plush brown couch. Only her anger kept her from averting her eyes from whatever she might happen to see that no mother wanted to ever see, much less even think about their son's doing while alone. She was fortunate to find that he was fully dressed as he laid back with his ass barely still on the cushion.
He had a plain black tee covering his strong, but wiry build and a pair of dark khakis covered his lower half. His sandy brown-haired head turned as he became aware of her presence.
"Ryan Townshend!"
Marcia's voice reached an octave it hadn't hit since her son was sixteen and had thrown a party with his friends and had destroyed one of her Valencia prints.
"Oh, hey mom. You're home early." Ryan said easily, as if he hadn't noticed her volume or her tone.
This increased Marcia's ire, adding to the fact that she noticed that he didn't stop or pause the adult movie.
"What the hell are you doing? In my living room?" Marcia's voice maintained its state.
"You don't have to yell." His attention alternated between her and the screen. "What's it look like, I'm watching a movie."
Marcia couldn't believe her son's attitude. As if he was watching '
Gladiator
', '
Avatar
', or some more current hit.
"That's not a movie, that's porn!" Marcia's octave dropped but the volume stayed the same.
"I'm an adult. I can watch whatever I want." Ryan's flat monotone voice never wavered under his mother's onslaught, neither retaliatory nor conciliatory.
Marcia didn't know how to react to this non-reaction from her son. He didn't argue like he did when he was a teen, or instantly obey as he had as a younger boy.
"Not in my living room you can't! Marcia's voice dropped half of its volume, but none of her intensity.
"Why not? I live here too. I didn't expect you to be home and I love the big screen." Ryan stared back at his mother's greenish hazel eyes.
Marcia could only stare back blankly at this logical resistance.
"I am an adult, mom. I don't have a girl right now, and I have certain needs that have to be relieved." He paused and gave her an intense look. "As I'm sure you do too."
Why was he not storming off? Or yelling back at her? Or any other normal response that she could react too? And what did he mean when he alluded to her
