Mom's Missing Heel (ext. Edition)

Writer's Note:

This is a rewritten and recontextualized version of my original story. This is part of an effort to update my early work.

Originally Published: May 2019

Republished: October 2021

Enjoy!

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Spencer Gatlin loved computers, and not just because he could watch sexy women fuck online. Computers provided a way for his curious mind to solve real problems.

By the age of sixteen, Spencer had taught himself how to defeat spear-fishing viruses, once saving his history teacher's laptop. By seventeen, he was head of his high school's computer science club. By eighteen, he was working for his dad's law firm, shielding client financial records.

That same year, he stumbled onto a small overseas hacking operation and reported it to the FBI. His college résumé was a proverbial panty dropper. It was enough to win him a scholarship to the University of Southern California, in nearby Los Angeles. While money was no issue for his family, Spencer was proud to earn his own way.

But that was his childhood. The past.

Home for the summer after his freshman year, Spencer was readjusting to life at home. Santa Ana was only an hour from campus, so the scenery was mostly the same — palm trees, hot sun, congested highways.

Many of his old high school friends were interning for the summer, but Spencer was doing freelance cybersecurity work. He had few clients, but at $60 an hour, he was doing well for a nineteen-year-old. Just as importantly, he was still free to go out at night.

In his affluent hometown, a spoiled kid was always throwing an unsupervised house party somewhere. Most of the parties were wild and drunken shitshows, and Spencer made a point of attending them once or twice a week.

In one way, the parties were better now that he had a year of college under his belt. He was more sociable, he handled his liquor better, and he was more impressive.

Living in a generation where nerdom was cool, an outgoing tech and sci-fi junkie like Spencer made friends easily. And his recent physical growth, seen in his broadened chest and modern, but maturely parted, walnut hair made him a frequent target for scantily dressed young women looking for a man to help her finish her red cup and take her somewhere alone.

But the parties were also sadder. College had broadened Spencer's worldview, matured him, and challenged him. Getting high and shitfaced at two in the morning slowly lost its appeal. As did his high school friends.

Ironically, at home was where Spencer was at his happiest. His parents were actually treating him like an adult. If he left the house, they didn't ask where was going or when he'd be back. They trusted him. They were relaxed around him. They seemed younger than they did before he left. Spencer jokingly wondered how much of a toll his "smartass" phase had taken on them.

But those were the early days of summer. The past.

*****1

In a sunlit living room, Spencer sat hunched over an ottoman as he pounded away on his laptop. Writing a client report was not his preferred way to spend a Saturday afternoon, but being a freelancer meant meeting deadlines by himself.

"Hey, Spence, how's it going?"

"Hmm?"

"How's work going? Do you have plans to go out, or are you gonna sit there all day?"

Slowly, a pair of skeptical, blue eyes nudged Spencer out of his digital trance. "Wait, what?"

"Haha! Do you have plans to go out? C'mon, I'm trying to do my job and be nosey. You're not helping."

Spencer chuckled with his mom. After being away, he realized how much of a curiosity she was. She had the crisp, blonde hair, the elegant, balletic figure, and the sculpted, triangular face of a refined daughter from money. And yet, she was one of the most disarming and down-to-earth people Spencer knew.

Maybe it was the fact she didn't care about the darker strands lurking beneath her long hair, or maybe it was her walking around the house in rumpled designer clothes and bare feet, or maybe it was her lack of interest in personal drama, but Spencer had always viewed his mom as a hippyish figure.

He had seen, at fancy dinner events, how his mom's breasts in an expensive dress led to leering men getting death stares from their wives. But it was her in casual clothes, like mom jeans and her workout tights, that made Spencer a target for his friends' teasing. In short, his mom Breanna was the exact wife you would expect a handsome and successful lawyer to find amidst a haze of pot smoke at an undergrad party at Stanford while going back to get his MBA.

"Umm..." He switched gears and remembered his mom's question. "No, not yet. I don't think I'm going out tonight. We went pretty hard last night. Zach said he's still hungover in bed, hah!"

"Oh... Maybe you should go to his house tonight and hang with him then since he's not feeling well."

Spencer was impressed with his parents for making it to July before questioning his plan; though, it was odd for his mom to be recommending plans to him. She was usually the "chill" parent, the one joking around and encouraging him not to stress about school and work. Also, her outfit was odd. She was in sporty leggings and an athletic top, dressed for the gym. On Saturday. Her job was doing PR for his dad's law firm, which meant she was often bored at home. Still, she usually relaxed on weekends.

"I guess I can text Zach. Maybe he'll wanna hang," Spencer mused, and turned back to his work.

"You 'guess' you could...?" His mom voiced. "C'mon, hun, you're nineteen. You shouldn't be spending Saturday home alone."

"I go out all the time!" Spencer popped up, defensively. If anything he had been partying too often. "And, wait, why would I be alone? Are you and dad headed somewhere?"

Breanna opened her lip and tapped on the kitchen island. "Uh, yes, we are actually. Do you remember Mr. Commons? From your dad's firm?"

"Woah! Did he die?"

"Wha- Why- No! He's not even that old!" Breanna held her cracking face. "He invited us to a cocktail party, and we're going."

"Oh. Wait... Dad actually talks to him again? And I thought he moved to Florida?"

"Eh... They talk a little," she winced. "Mr. Commons splits his time between here and Florida now, and he's here for the summer. I've been encouraging your father to play nice."

Suddenly, the other times Spencer had seen his parents getting dressed in fancy formal wear this summer made sense. He never asked them where they were going, not wanting them to start returning the favor. "Ah. That's sweet they're talking again, though. I always thought what happened was pretty stupid."

"Yeah, me too." Breanna thought for a moment. "I think they were both tired of fighting. After your dad dropped his countersuit, I think Malcolm started inviting us over as a way to extend an olive branch. I mean, sometimes I have to drag your father there for his own good, but I think he enjoys seeing him once he's there."

"They're probably just hoping for the other to do something stupid at the parties so they can sue again." His mom immediately erupted in laughter, shaking her head. He imagined the same thought had crossed her mind before.

Riding the high of nailing the punchline, Spencer returned to his work. But his mom interrupted again, "So, yeah, you should see what Zach's up to tonight. I'm sure he'd like the company."

Turning back with a huff, Spencer saw his mom taking a swig of water. A droplet fell from her metal bottle onto her boob and ran into her cleavage behind her blue compression top. Blinking, Spencer nodded at her. "Alright, I'll see what he's up to."

*****2

As the shadows in the living room grew longer, Spencer moved into the study, where he heard a knock on the door. "Hey, Spence..." It was his dad. "Your mom told me you're going to Zach's tonight?"

Why the hell is he asking now? Spencer wondered. He recognized the tone as the same dry, half-hearted one his dad used whenever speaking to him at his mom's request.

"Well, I was gonna. Then he had to go to the movies with Jen and her parents. It's fine, I don't feel like going out anyway."

"Ah. That's a bummer. Well, if that's the case, are you free to go to Fast Market to pick up some orange juice? We polished it off at breakfast, and your mom and I won't have time to get there before it closes."

"Umm..."

"It would be a big help."

He bemoaned the chore, but his parents asked very little of him. "Yeah, no problem. I'll head there later."

"Thanks. I believe they close at eight-thirty on weekends, so don't wait too long."

There's no fucking way... Spencer muttered, bringing up Fast Market's website on his laptop. There were no hours listed, and the site looked like it had last been updated in preparation for Y2K. "Dad, I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I've been there after midnight on Saturdays."

His dad lectured through the door, with his patented lawyer-dad lingo, "Pretty sure isn't sure..."

It was pointless to argue. Spencer opened the door and strode past his dad. "Thank you," he heard, making him sigh.

----

Minutes later, Spencer pulled into the parking lot of Fast Market. The first thing he did was read the hours on the door. "Eight-thirty, my ass!" With a roll of his eyes, he entered the twenty-four-seven convenience store.

Considering this was the first and only time he'd be out of the house for the day, Spencer performed his due diligence selecting the orange juice. He picked the pulp level he imagined would least likely draw a passive comment from his dad during breakfast.

"Have you seen the new one yet?"

Spencer tilted his chin at the cashier, and then realized he was excited about his shirt. "Oh! No, man, I haven't." Spencer hadn't yet seen the new season of Green Arrow, a DC Comics show. "My buddy Zach is up-to-date but I'm still a season back. I'll catch up soon, though!"

----

Humming along to R&B music, Spencer drove home under an orange and dark blue sky. As he turned onto his street, he could see his parents' tiny silhouettes in the driveway.

They appeared to be running late, and Spencer's headlights flashed against his dad just as he ducked into his sports car. The engine purred instantly, and the brake lights glowed red. His mom popped up from behind the passenger side, and she stared into his oncoming windshield like a deer in headlights.

She was wearing a tan trench coat over her dress — in the summer. And her blonde hair was tied up behind her. She never wears it like that, Spencer thought.

As he reached the driveway, his mom swung the passenger door open and stumbled. Fortunately, she landed in the car instead of on the brick. Spencer looked through his dad's window and saw that his mom was still leaning out of her open door while they backed out of the driveway.

He whipped his head around to see if she'd shut the door before it hit a stone lighting pillar. She did, just barely. Then they drove off in the opposite direction.

What the hell was that...? Did they misread the invitation? Were they supposed to show up with a dish at a certain time?

Parked in front of his house, in the again quiet dusk, Spencer's gut felt queasy. Low-acidity juice in hand, he stepped out into the warm breeze. He racked his brain for an explanation.

Deep in thought, he nearly missed the object sparkling on the patterned brick. He walked across the driveway and squatted down, and picked up the shoe.

The teenage son inspected the brown heel, rotating it in his hands. With its criss-cross, golden straps, it looked like what an ancient Roman gladiator would wear on a fashion runway. It was a mesh between a step-in sandal and a designer heel.

While it explained his mom's stumble, it didn't explain why she didn't just tell his dad to stop the damn car. How late can you be where you'd rather show up in one high heel?

This was no coincidence. All of his parents' odd behavior had to be related... somehow. They had rushed out of the driveway to avoid talking to him, and Spencer had a nagging suspicion that his mom was behind it.

The thought of being left in the dark hurt worse after the trust his parents had shown him this summer.

"Hmm..." Every instinct and fiber of his nature told him to investigate. Spencer chewed his pink lip as he stared at his car. "Fuck it."

He jumped back into his silver sedan, threw the OJ and strappy heel into the passenger seat, and buckled up. He quickly found three addresses for a Malcolm Commons in the county. For all knew, his mom had lied about where they were going, but this was all he had.

"That's not too bad. An hour at most." He tapped on the first address and it opened in his GPS. Then he was off.

----

The first house was the most isolated and took twenty-five minutes to reach. Like most homes in the area, it was large, prominent, and had a terracotta roof. An old woman was listening to a radio on the porch. It was not the right Commons residence.

The failure only motivated Spencer more. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, and his toes wiggled in his sneakers. He stepped on the accelerator.

The final two homes were within blocks of each other. He glanced at the gold and bronze heel in the passenger seat, trying to picture his mom wearing it. But it didn't fit.

Down another dark, quiet, lamp-lit street, Spencer cruised with his head on a swivel. He squinted through his rolled-down windows as the sweet aroma of gardens and manicured grass were carried by the salty breeze.

When his GPS announced he had arrived at his destination, Spencer was let down again, this time by a For Sale sign in front of a lifeless house. Doubt started to creep in.

His mom had bent the truth before, but always for an innocent reason. She did it to surprise him or to spare his feelings, but always with remarkable ease. The only way Spencer may ever know if she was lying tonight was to see it for himself.

He followed the route to the final address. And as he turned down into the cul-de-sac, he was greeted by a line of parked cars on each side of the street. Five stately homes were spaced evenly down the long inlet, with only the one at the end emitting light from all of its windows.

Having been dragged to soirées before when he was little, Spencer recognized his mom had told the truth. Still, his pulse quickened. The nagging voice in the back of his head was still unsatisfied. Why was his mom so off today?

Spencer parallel parked at the back of a line, and he estimated there were twenty cars between him and the house. Quietly, he opened his door and put his sneakers on the asphalt. There was nothing illegal about walking down the street, but he could hear his heartbeat in his ears as he crept behind the cover of the parked cars.

"There it is," he mumbled. Across the street, he spotted his dad's unmistakable pearl-white sports car.

On the day Spencer had accepted his scholarship offer to USC, his dad glowed with pride and announced that he was going to use some of his college savings to buy his dream car. Spencer never forgot watching his dad buy the Porsche 911, only to then put on a clever "dad look" and drive him to the Chevy dealership to buy him a new sedan.

It was one of those life lessons Spencer didn't fully understand yet.

After scurrying across the road, Spencer cupped his hands above his eyes and peered inside the car. As always, it was religiously clean. In the footwell of the passenger seat, however, there was one strappy, golden heel.

Why does she have these?

The young son didn't need to be an expert in women's fashion to realize they were cheaply made. And they were an odd pairing for a cocktail dress.

Flicking his eyes at the dead-end, and the illuminated driveway branching off of it, Spencer realized he couldn't simply walk up the Spanish Colonial estate and ring the doorbell. Mr. Commons certainly had security cameras and... Wait... What's my plan here? Think.

Walking to the edge of the large property, Spencer eyed the front windows. They were all yellow, but the curtains were closed, which was to be expected at night. The breeze seemed to carry voices from the rear of the house, but it was difficult to tell.

Suddenly, Spencer realized he was moving toward the side yard, aiming for the tall shrubbery lining the perimeter. A gravitational pull sucked him into the yard, and his legs no longer felt like his. He had rarely broken the rules as a child, but when he did, this was always how it felt.

He was smart enough to tug his t-shirt over his nose and ears to conceal his identity. Deeper he ventured into the property along the hedges. Across the side yard, there was a pair of tall, thin windows that arched at the top. Neither had blinds or curtains. And dark silhouettes passed through them briefly.

After scanning the yard, Spencer dashed across the green expanse until his back hit the white stucco and his ass was on the grass. He sucked wind and tried to calm his heart rate. If anyone had seen him, they would have surely called the police.

As his nerves settled, he began to feel steady vibrations against his back. He began to hear music, the same music he listened to at house parties. Carefully, he rose to a squat and peeked inside.

"What the fuck?"

It was a cocktail party, but not one where rich people pretended to taste the difference between fine alcohols under the spell of classical symphonies.

Every adult was costumed. Many were in the same costumes they likely wore to take their children trick-or-treating. Others were in more fun costumes, no different than the ones Spencer saw on campus at Halloween parties.

In the vast living room, Spencer spotted a Mickey and Minnie Mouse chatting with a Pharaoh and an Egyptian Goddess. Another couple in matching costumes was sitting on the couch, where a man dressed as Fred Flintstone was strumming a guitar over the music. The more Spencer watched, the funnier it became. Here were adults, all at least in their thirties, behaving just like Spencer and his college friends did at their parties.

But unlike at Spencer's parties, a few of the well-to-do women in attendance were bonafide MILFs.

From what he could tell, there was more movement in the next room over. The crowd seemed larger and louder. So, Spencer dropped out of view and crawled against the house to the other window. He could already feel the stronger bass and hear the words of a pop song.

The darker window meant he would be harder to see, and it gave him the confidence to look inside. His eyes went wide.

It might as well have been a college party. There was twirling, flirting, bumping, and grinding in a sea of colorful strobe lights. The rhythmic music came from an unattended DJ booth, which was just a classic iPod sitting on a table next to big speakers.

An escaped convict was twirling around a cop. Two pirates were snickering and taking sips of the other's drink. The Simpsons, a chubby Homer with a blue-wigged Marge, were swaying with their chests and heads affectionately together. A Black Widow ran her leather butt down an Incredible Hulk's crotch.

Spencer's cock swelled into the solid stucco. He felt the pressure as he watched the few couples making a sexy scene. But, admittedly, he was simply relieved. It wasn't a swingers' party.

There were a handful of slutty costumes and hot dances, but nothing over the top. It was just a function for couples and parents who wanted a night out of the house for some silly fun and to socialize.

His mom's cheap heel now made sense. Spencer studied the gold and bronze sandal in his fingers and then remembered why he was there.

Dude, they're definitely in there. What are they wearing though? he wondered.

Questions arose about whether he owed his parents their privacy. This appeared to be a getaway for them, and he was intruding. He also recognized the possibility of his mom being in a more adult costume... and Spencer preferred not to run the risk of being scarred for life. But, naturally, he was curious.