I adore my mom, but I'll be the first one to tell you how problematic she is. She was always too focused on being fun, and never on being practical. I was an only child and for much of my life she was a single parent, so I had to be the practical one. I'd cook and clean and organize, and she'd disappear for days to Atlantic City. She'd win money, she'd lose money. I never told a soul. What if they took me away from her? Despite everything, she's still my mom. Not that I've been the best daughter today...
When I was 13, she fell in love with a handsome businessman from the big apple. He fell hard for her and the next thing I knew, we were moving from a crappy New Jersey apartment to a house in the New York suburbs. For awhile my new stepdad, Adam, tamed her. She got a secretarial job and they talked about having another kid. Turns out they couldn't. Adam pulled away and my mom went back to gambling on the weekends--then on weekdays. Before I knew it, everything was the same as before, except now I had a stepdad telling me what to do.
I mostly minded my own business and nothing changed until I was 19. I usually stayed at my university over school breaks, but during the spring break of my Sophomore year, a broken heart sent me home to my mother. Her car wasn't in the driveway when I pulled in late Monday night, but I hoped she was there all the same.
"Trina?" I heard Adam call out for my mom as I walked in the front door.
"No," I called back, disappointed. She wasn't home. "It's Kayla."
I heard footsteps as he came down the hall. He'd probably been working late in his office. "Kayla," he greeted me warmly. I note that he doesn't seem disappointed not to see my mom. Are things really going so poorly between them? "Welcome home. Your mom is, uh... staying with friends right now."
"With friends?" I studied him. He knows better than to spare my feelings. "She's off gambling, isn't she?"
He shakes his head. "Maybe. She hasn't been home in a week. I don't know what to think."
"Oh." My shoulders slump. Adam was an attractive guy with bright eyes, he'd have no problem finding someone else if mom didn't come home. I doubt they'd been in love for awhile. But I'd gotten used to the thought of my mom at home in this house with a safety net she couldn't gamble away for once.
"You're still welcome to stay," he says quickly, reaching for my bag.
I let him take it. I could argue that I can carry it myself, but he'll argue back, and I'm not in the mood. "Thanks."
He carries the bag up to my room and I follow, watching the muscles on his back. "How's your girlfriend?" he asks after some awkward silence.
I swallow. "We broke up," I admit. "Over the weekend."
I hear the frown in his voice. "I'm sorry, kiddo."
I shake my head. "I broke up with her. It wasn't working."
"Well... it's good that you can recognize that," he sighs. I hear the unspoken words in his voice.
"Are you and my mom separating?" I blurt out. Then I cringe. I probably sound so childish.
"Maybe," he says quietly. I can tell it's raw honesty. I can also tell that he's more tired than sad. My mom's probably put him through a lot. "But listen, Kayla, this is your home. I don't know where your mom is going to end up but I'm not going to change your room at all. It's yours."
"Thanks," I say automatically, too surprised to really absorb what he's said. I don't know where my mom will end up, either. This house feels as safe as any.
"I can let your mom know you're here," he offers. "Maybe she's close by and can come back and you can do whatever girls do after a breakup."
I laugh. "What do you think that is?"
He shrugs as he sets my bags on my bed. "I imagine it involves chocolate and wine. Women seem to love chocolate and wine."
"Sad movies, too," I nod. "And any junk food, not just chocolate. But chocolate is best," I add quickly.
"Tell you what," he starts. "After dinner, I'll go pick up something to drink and some junk food and you'll pick out a movie for us to watch."
"Us," I repeat, surprised. I forgot how supportive he was. He was the one that came to every soccer game in high school and took the team out for pancakes when we won.
"In case your mom can't make it," he nods. "I've got you covered. I like wine and chocolate, anyways."
"Everyone does," I laugh. "Fine. You're on."
I could never have predicted what happened that night, but I'm so glad it did.
Dinner was a simple stuffed chicken breast, and true to his word, Adam left right after to get our movie night goodies. I queued up one of those sad movies where a teenager dies on Netflix and went upstairs to change. Wondering if Adam would put on something more comfortable, I decided on cotton shorts and a baby blue camisole.
I couldn't help but feel cute--my light brown hair tumbling down past my shoulders. I ran my fingers through it and let my eyes fall to my chest. My breasts were perfect for my size--32Cs. My ex girlfriend always said they were very squeezable. I didn't really miss her, but I already missed having someone touch me. I hesitated when I realized that I'd made myself wet, but in the end decided not to change. I was always the practical one. Maybe tonight would be a break from that.
I heard the front door close an hour after Adam left and I headed downstairs. He was in the kitchen, putting a carton of chocolate ice cream in the freezer. Two wine bottles, a red and a white, were sitting on the counter. "Good picks," I told him approvingly, reading the labels. My mom had at least taught me all I needed to know about alcohol.
I turned to see his eyes falling over me. After a moment, he makes eye contact again. "I'll--uh-- I'll just go change," he mumbled before heading upstairs.
I felt a zing between my legs when I thought about his eyes on me, and then suddenly all I could think about is how hot my stepdad was and what it would be like to have him grab me by my hair and kiss me hard. I wondered what his cock looks like; I hadn't had one in months.
Adam came back downstairs while I'm still lost in thought. He was wearing sweatpants, but the tee shirt he was also wearing was pleasantly tight. "Movie?" he reminded me, breaking me out of my daydreams.
"Movie," I agreed hastily. We poured the wine into tall glasses and headed into the living room where the movie is waiting. There was only one sofa, but a disappointing amount of distance between us as Adam hit the play button.
I refilled our wines partway through the movie, and when I sat back down, I was a lot closer to him. I found myself paying more attention to him than the movie. He took his wine with one hand and slung his other arm around me, squeezing my shoulder. My breath caught audibly. I stare at the screen but see him turn enough to look at me, thinking he probably thought that I was strange. He was probably right.
"I'll get your ice cream," he said after a few minutes with his arm around me. I figured he was looking for a hasty retreat. He took our now-empty glasses and disappeared for a few minutes. When he came back, he offered me the pint of ice cream and a spoon.
