Price of Revenge

AN: Okay, let's try this again.

Pulse.

Pain

Another pulse. Fuck... How much did I drink last night? It feels like a giant is gripping my head and squeezing periodically.

I moan in despair.

There's a sound that keeps getting louder as I slowly regain consciousness. It's like a static background droning...

I cover my ears with my hands to block out the noise.

When I release them, the noise gets a little clearer. Is that a person shouting?

"Shut the fuck up..." I say drowsily, not even sure they can hear me.

My eyes open a little and bright light shoots another dose of agony into my brain. My mouth feels drier than the folds of a seventy-year-old celibate nun that hasn't seen action since... never.

Why the hell is it so hot?

I roll around and feel a weight slipping off my chest.

With blurry vision, I make out a pale form...

Oh, I got lucky last night...

Okay. That's a first. Wish I could remember it though.

The noise gets louder and becomes even more difficult to ignore.

I sit up with great difficulty and crack my neck.

"...the fuck! You sick fucking animals! Not even..."

Oh my god, what is this dude on about? I take a deep breath and slowly take stock of my surroundings. I'm in a bedroom... High end bedroom no less. Heavy beige curtains, white painted walls, expensive looking rug...

The form beside me moves.

Bare feet with green painted toe nails... Silky smooth and toned calves connected to curvy thighs... Her thin waist that spread out into a delicious bubbly butt that glistens with sweat...

She turns over and I'm met with a modest pair of tits no larger than grapefruit, perky nipples with dark areolas just begging to be sucked...

The prominent collar bone just oozes femininity... Her lips, the top one slightly puffier, dares you to ravage it... Her silvery almond shaped eyes... So familiar... So beautiful... So wide as they stare into me with shock.

My voice struggles to escape through my dry mouth.

"M-mom?"

"Oh, god..." My mother says, voice still heavy with sleep.

"...fuck is happening? I trusted you! Your own mother?" The incessant voice keeps yelling from the doorway.

My face drains of blood when I realize who it belongs to.

"Dad?"

"Don't you fucking talk to me! Traitor!"

"No, I can explain!"

No, you fucking can't!

My mind screams at me.

"Emma! How could you do this?" His face is red with rage. My mother covers her own with a pillow.

"You know what? Fuck this! I don't need this shit." With that I hear his heavy footfalls stomping down the stairs, followed by the slamming of the front door.

The silence is deafening. My mind is blank. What in the holy hell just happened?

Deep breaths.

In. Out. In. Out...

The timing of my breathing coincides with the pounding in my head.

I'd returned early last night, having failed to impress my date. The parents were home, watching some cheesy horror movie.

My mom had mocked me, and Dad had advised me to drown my sorrows. I'd gotten drunk with my parents—a pretty standard occurrence. My dad eventually invited a few of his buddies over, including Uncle Leo.

I rub my left eye that seems to have joined my brain's painful pulses. This is where things start to get fuzzy...

I remember drinking some more... Throwing up... My dad leaving with everyone... My mother and I alone...

Mom and I...

Oh, God.

I feel like throwing up again. I didn't have sex with...

The mattress moves, and I'm reminded of the other occupant.

Without saying a word or even looking back, I exit my parents' bedroom. No wonder I didn't immediately recognize it. I've only ever been in there a handful of times.

Only when I'm inside my own bedroom, does the panic start to really set in. My breathing increases rapidly. My heartrate skyrockets.

I had sex with my own mother!

No... Maybe you didn't. Maybe it just got really hot and you decided to take off your...

I'm naked.

I stare down at my exposed chest, bare legs, and most importantly...my flaccid cock. In the heat of the moment, with my mother next to me and my father screaming, I didn't even notice I was naked...

It's still not proof of anything.

My mind struggles to piece together a reasonable explanation as to why I'd be naked in bed with my mother.

I'd gotten hot and had taken off my clothes. Maybe my mother had had the same idea. So she's lying naked on her bed, passed out. Our rooms are next to each other, so I'd stumbled into the wrong room... In that inebriated state, I didn't notice my mother next to me and I too passed out...

Flash forward to this morning...

Yes... This is plausible. It could very well have happened that way. No, it

did

happen that way.

My breathing slows considerably.

As my heart settles down, I start to feel better about the whole situation. It's just a simple misunderstanding.

I hear the shower in my parents' bathroom...

That's not a bad idea...

With towel and clothes in hand, I enter the bathroom downstairs. A glance in the mirror confirms I look like crap; bloodshot eyes, and hair that stands in every direction.

I splash water on my face and down a few Advil from the medicine cabinet.

The shower is cold and it washes away the sweat and clamminess on my body that was

obviously

due to the heat and alcohol consumption.

*****

Harry Stanton couldn't contain his laughter as he's parked outside his brother's house. The look of horror on his son's face...

His wife couldn't even look at him...

"You're sick. You know that right?" Leo says, sitting in the passenger's seat.

"Oh but it was totally worth it. You should've been there."

"How are you gonna deal with the fallout? What if they call the rest of the family, and the news spreads before you tell them it's a prank?"

"There's no way they'll even leave the house, much less call people. What would they even say, 'Hi, mom. I just had sex with my son and I don't know what to do.'? Or maybe something like, 'Hi grandpa. I just had sex with your daughter, what should I do now?'"

He breaks out in another fit of laughter. "They're too busy freaking the fuck out right now to do anything else."

"Harry... Are you sure about this?"

"Of course. Have you already forgotten how they got me last year? Even had the police involved... After suffering that humiliation, there's no way I

won't

get even with them."

"But would they even buy it?"

"They already did, man. I just wish I had set up cameras to see how they're handling it..."

"...a son thinking he fucked his own mother... How'd you come up with this shit?"

"Jocelyn's kid. Before I even started working on his laptop, his browser was open. The little pervert had been watching incest porn."

"And your first thought was to use that info on your wife and son..."

"Damn straight."

"There's no way you're not taking damage when this is over."

"Oh I took more than enough damage last year to make up for it."

"You

are

planning on telling them it was a joke right?"

"We'll see."

"Harry."

"Relax. I'll let them stew all day and swing by tonight. Their probably scared shitless right now."

"You sick bastard."

"Hey, easy with the judgement. You helped out remember?

Leo sighs. "I'm sure I'll regret it. But I get that you need to do this."

"Thanks man."

"Just keep me out of it when this blows up in your face."

"It won't. This is just a little bit of fun. We'll laugh about it later, you'll see."

"If you say so."

*****

The headache's gone.

I feel refreshed with the coffee and breakfast in me. It's like it was just a bad dream. When my mother comes down, we'll just laugh about it.

The easiest conclusion was sex...

However, my father freaking out, had thrown me for a loop. Tensions were high, and that led to premature assumptions. From my father's perspective, I guess it was easy to think that we had... sex, based on the fact that we were naked in bed. Given time to cool off, I'm certain he'll arrive at the same conclusion.

I smile at the way the human brain processes trauma. The coping mechanism. Designed to shield us from anything that might damage our psyche.

I'm fully aware that the probability that we had sex is hardly zero, but to preserve my sanity, the only viable option is to accept that nothing happened. Because nothing happened! Nada! Zilch!

The silence starts to get to me as I sit around the kitchen island. I swirl the last trickle of orange juice around the glass and gulp it down.

I hear her before I see her. The slippers slapping on the hardwood floor grow closer as they approach the kitchen and then stop.

My mother stands in the doorway with a haunted look of resignation. Her dark curly hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail. She's wearing a bright red robe that covers her body from neck to ankles.

"Good Morning, Mom!" I say bright and cheerily, forcibly banishing the thoughts of what hides inside that robe.

Her response is to just stare at me blankly. "...So you're already broken. I suppose it's just a matter of time before I follow in your footsteps."

"There'll be no following of any footsteps, dear mother. Come, I've made breakfast."

"...It must be nice to escape from reality. I wish I could do that."

"I'm not—" I sigh, dropping my positive persona. "I'm not escaping reality. It's just that..."

"You're fine with us fucking?"

"Fuck, no! I mean," Deep breaths, "Look, Mom. Nothing happened, okay? We just drank too much, and passed out on the same bed. That's all."

"Naked?"

"Naked."

"I take it you're so confident because you remember what happened last night?"

"Well, no. But—"

"You actually managed to not burn the bacon... Your mother is proud."

"Now who's the one escaping reality?"

"Can you blame me?"

"We didn't fuck, alright?!" I say frantically.

"Is that any way to talk to your mother?" My mom says, nonchalantly eating her meal.

"N-no. I'm sorry Mom. It's just—" I break off. "Actually, yes. I believe the situation warrants an exemption of familial etiquette."

"I agree. Incestuous fornication would indeed warrant that."

"

Alleged!

Being naked in bed together is just circumstantial evidence. It doesn't prove anything."

"Feel free to explain that to your father when he comes home with a shotgun."

"Why the hell are you so...? Do

you

actually remember what happened?"

"My memories are also blank... But wait..."

"You have something?"

"Go empty the waste bin in my bedroom."

"You just really gave up, didn't you? There has—"

"Connor." My mother's silvery eyes pin me down. "Get the fucking waste bin."

I lift my hands in resignation. "Fine."

I reluctantly go back up the stairs and freeze right outside the bedroom door. If my mother has officially 'checked out', that would mean it falls to me to do damage control. No family or police has called. Yet.

So I can assume my father is probably out drinking in some bar. Again, assuming that would be the appropriate response to catching your son in bed with his mother.

I push open the door and the white walls reflect the sunlight, casting a heavenly glow on the rumpled sheet on the bed. There's no lingering smell in the air... It

could've

dispersed through the night, but it's current absence just reinforce my belief that nothing happened.

Smiling, I grab the tiny grey dustbin and head back downstairs.

My mother is staring blankly at the kitchen cupboards.

"Here's the bin, Mom." I say. "Now can we just—"

"Did you look inside it?"

"...No."

"Look inside it."

Every fiber of my being is

begging

me not to look. The coping mechanism is overheating, and I can feel the parts start to unravel. Nuts and bolts start popping off, ricocheting around in my mind, stabbing and cutting the threads of my reality.

Like watching a train wreck in slow motion, my head lowers, a millimeter per second.

Oh, there's four of them...

And only two seems to be filled up... How responsible of you, self! I can't tell you how proud I am that even in your drunken state you remembered to use protection. Such a diligent guy... It's like that time you mowed Aunt Jocelyn's lawn, for free.... You didn't even ask anything in return. Or that time—

"...on. Son. Connor." My mother's voice pulls me back up. She takes one glance at my face that finally mirrors her own. "Ah, yes. That looks about right."

I mechanically pull open the trash compacter and empty the bin inside it. Not bothering to head back upstairs, I place the bin next to the cupboards on the floor.

The low droning of the fridge is the only sound in the house.

"Does Dad own a shotgun?" I ask, sitting beside my mother at the counter.

"No. But he'll probably buy one for this special occasion."

"...What do you think it's like to get shot?"

"Probably painful."

"Maybe it'll be quick..." I say.

"For me, yes. But he'll definitely shoot you in the dick."

Hearing my mother say the word 'dick', stirs something inside me. She makes it a habit to never swear, even in front of Dad. I shake my head.

"You think so?"

"Wouldn't you do the same?"

"I don't know..."

It's difficult to look at her. An uncontrollable part of me has been overwhelmed by...shyness? Is that it? I don't recall feeling this way since my cousin visited with one of her friends. I was still a freshman in high school at the time.

She was so beautiful to my virgin eyes.

If she was just in the same room as me, I'd stumble over my words and avoid eye contact, heck I'd even avoided facing my head in her direction.

This is the same feelings that course through my veins right now. The difference is that it's my mother!

"We really fucked, didn't we?" I choke out, struggling to control my breathing.

"Repeatedly." She says. I can see her turned away from me in my peripheral vision. Good. She won't be able to see my face turning red.

"How...No, what happens now?"

"We patiently await judgement."

"But judgement might involve death."

"Or jail time."

"Right. What if we run?"

"That's really not practical from a realistic standpoint."

"We can't just do nothing!"

"We're not. Since this is probably our final day together, we're going to spend it as best we can."

"By doing what?"

"Well, we already fucked, and I'm certain that broke down all kinds of barriers."

"Meaning what exactly?"

"We have a conversation. Get to know each other better."

"I think we already know all there is to know about each other though..."

"Really? You're not hiding anything, anything at all, from your mother?" She turns to face me, and I look away.

"...Are you blushing?"

I painfully turn my head and meet my mother's eyes.

"Yes, I am." I say quickly.

"...I see."

"And what exactly would be the purpose of this 'conversation', Mom?" I ask to avoid more awkwardness.

"You don't have to do it, but if this is really our last day, I'd like to spend it reconnecting with my son."

"I wasn't aware we needed reconnecting..."

"Oh, please." She laughs softly. "Ever since you started that internship, we've been growing apart. When's the last time we even had fun together?"

"That's easy. It's..." My mind draws a blank. I've been so preoccupied with dating and college that my relationship with my parents had started to deteriorate...

"We went on that cruise last summer..."

"That was two years ago."

"We pulled that shit on Dad last year."

"Emphasis on last year. You see?"

"...I guess. So how do you wanna do this?"

"I'll go first." She takes a deep breath. "I never wanted to buy this fucking house."

My eyes widen. I'd always thought she loved it here, with how much time she'd spent decorating it.

"It's too large and a pain in the ass to maintain. I always wanted to live in a small suburban, with a nice and cozy atmosphere. Your father forced us to buy this shit."

"...Wow." The way she speaks her mind in such a raw unfiltered manner is refreshing.

"Surprised?"

"...I've just never heard you talk like that before."

"Gone with the familial etiquette, remember?" She arcs a delicate brow. "I'm good at pretending to be the prim and proper fucking housewife. Always mind your manners, since I was younger. I want to say '

fuck'

, whenever I want.

"I'm so tired of all these fucking rules... I want to let loose. I want to have one-night-stands without being labeled a slut. I want to punch your father in the fucking face every time he farts in bed." She takes a break to compose herself. "That's enough about me for now. Your next."

"I...Um... Honestly I'm still trying to process what you just told me."

"Don't. Just let it gradually sink in without thinking too much about it."

"O-Okay." I close my eyes for a moment. "I fucking hate this internship."

"What?" My mother seems genuinely surprised. "But it's what you've always wanted..."

"It's what

Dad

always wanted." I say. "I hate banking and business. I wanted to study medicine, but it was just always expected for me to follow in Dad's footsteps..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Don't be."

We spend the next few hours just talking about whatever comes to mind. Any random thought is game.

It becomes comfortable, and all too easy to put last night on the backburner. At least until reality inevitably comes blasting with a 12-gauge double barrel...

The kitchen chairs start hurting our bums and we shift to the couch in the living-room.

*****

Harry sits with his friends in the Bear Grill. A bar he and his buddies regularly frequent.

"And they just left you there?" Tom asks as Harry had been filling him in on last year's event.

"Yep. Someone eventually called the cops, and I had to spend the night in jail."

"...I can see why you went the extra mile."

"I'm a vindictive bastard, sue me."

"So you even added the condoms?"

"Leo's idea."

Leo shakes his head slowly. "If your gonna do it, might as well go all the way."

"So who jerked off into them?"

Harry takes a sip of his drink. "John and I. It was awkward as fuck, but well worth it."

"What do you think their doing now?"

"Probably weighing their options. God, I really wish I'd thought of cameras beforehand."

Leo orders another round of beers. "You can't get everything. At least you know they'll never pull any pranks again."

"It was a nice April fool's tradition, but yeah... After this, it's definitely over."

"How can you be sure they won't realize what day today is and figure it out?"

Harry laughs. "Even if they did, I already got my revenge. I could see the confusion and fear in their eyes this morning. That moment is enough for me."

Tom frowns. "Then why not end it now?"

Leo pats Tom on the back. "Like the man said, he's a vindictive bastard. He's milking this as long as possible."

Harry just grins and pops open another beer.

*****

"Really? A foot fetish?" My mother asks incredulously.

"Yes, really."

"And the women you date are fine with it?"

"Well... It hasn't moved beyond porn."

"Why?"

"Because its fucking embarrassing. I admit it to one girl, she tells all her friends, they tell all their friends, and I become a social pariah..."

"It probably won't be that bad."

"Probably, but why take the chance?"

My eyes fall down automatically to my mother's feet in her slippers. She elegantly pushes them off and lifts the bare beauties onto the couch... The movement shifts her robe open slightly, revealing smooth toned calves.

Saliva gathers in my mouth as her soft looking toes curl up and down. Each movement flashes the naked balls of her feet, and her toes repeatedly point at me. I swallow loudly as I note the glistening soles, damp with a little sweat.

"...and what would you do if you had your hands on a pair women's feet?" A sultry voice enters my ears.