The Matrons of Regal Bay
Chapter 34
Maggie's Tales -- Part 1
Margaret O'Hara arrived home, exhausted as usual, shortly after five-thirty. Since moving to Regal Bay just over two years before, Maggie, as she wanted to be called, had not taken a vacation, nor had she taken any real extended time off. The last two years for the 44-year-old had been stressful, to say the least. With her husband incarcerated in Leavenworth Federal Penitentiary for tax fraud, tax evasion, and a full list of other issues, Maggie had to work hard to put together a fresh start on life for herself and her children.
Maggie Jenkins and Roger O'Hara had been certified public accountants back home in Chicago when they met at a job interview. They both applied for the same position though neither landed it. Instead, they got together and set up their own small shop. In time, they established themselves as a neighborhood tax office. They also fell in love, married, and started a family, though there was more and a decade between their oldest son Patrick and his two siblings, Katy and Arty.
Maggie had given birth to Patrick at 22, but complications following his birth prevented Maggie and Roger from having more children right away. Maggie had to go through multiple treatments before she was physically able to conceive again, though it wasn't until she was in her mid-thirties that Arthur, and then two years later Katherine, were born. By this point, O'Hara Tax Services had already come under the eyes of the IRS and local authorities.
Life had been good and getting better for them, right up until Maggie and Roger had been indicted for tax fraud regarding several accounts maintained by their small company. As it turned out, and unknown to Maggie, Roger had taken on several accounts tied to Chicago-area organized crime. Roger was eventually convicted of several tax-related crimes, thanks in no small part to a local mobster who decided to take everyone with the slightest tie to his organization down with him. Maggie had been cleared of any wrong-doing, though their family business was closed, her license as a CPA in the state of Illinois was revoked, and all their assets, along with their home and two cars, were seized. Even before Roger's sentencing, Maggie had decided to leave Chicago and start anew elsewhere.
Having moved her children back in with her parents for the short term in South Bend, Maggie began a lengthy job search. Learning of an opening through and on-line search engine, Maggie borrowed money from her father to fly out to Eugene, Oregon, where she interviewed with a private accounting firm. It went well and soon she was offered a position in the firm's new Regal Bay office. She would be one of four CPA's working with several business clients around the area, she was told. However, within months of relocating her children to the small bay-side city, Maggie was again out of work when the office was closed. Through an acquaintance, Maggie was introduced to Frank Vaughn, who subsequently hired her on at Bayside Realty. She had been working long hours there since.
It was shortly after six in the evening on a warm Tuesday in mid-June when she got home. Patrick wasn't home, nothing unusual there, even though she knew he had only worked a half day. "Little shit's probably out fucking around with his friends as the beach, again," Maggie muttered to herself as she dropped her purse into the sofa. She kicked off her heels and padded through to the kitchen, where she pulled a cold bottle of beer from the refrigerator. It was one of those expensive regionally brewed craft beers that her son enjoyed. Maggie didn't really care for micro-brews, favoring instead traditional Budweiser, her late father's beer of choice. Still, the Diamond Knot IPAs were all she had in the refrigerator until she made a trip to the store, so she popped the cap, tossed it into the trash as she left the kitchen, and headed for the dining room. Along the way, she sent a text to her sitter, letting Carol know that she was home now and could bring her two youngest children home any time she liked.
The small office desk where they kept the family computer sat at one end of the small room, next to the window that faced the driveway. The afternoon sun was bright across the desk so she rolled the shades down before settling into the creaky, second-hand leather desk chair. Each evening Maggie ritualistically checked her e-mails, though she rarely responded to any that weren't business specific. It was the primary means by which she kept up with her family back in Chicago and Northern Indiana. It was also how her husband's lawyer kept her informed about the on-going investigations, not that she gave a shit anymore. She had been cleared across the board. Her husband had taken the fall and was serving the time, but she was left with having to deal with putting her life back together. She wondered which was worse.
Maggie had gulped back nearly half of the beer as the computer started up. Once ready, she typed in her personal password and then went through her personal e-mails quickly, finding nothing of interest or importance there. She started to head for the Facebook icon, but instead went back to the start-up screen and typed in her son's password. As if Patrick thought she didn't know it, she grinned to herself. Using his beer's name as a password. It had been over a week since she'd checked on his personal files and browser history. Not that she cared, but she was interested in whether he had been in communications with his locked-up father or not.
However, the first thing she noticed when his homepage came up was the several new file folders on the desktop. It wasn't the files themselves that caught her attention, but the notations beneath each.
"What the fuck!" she blurted out. Nearly every single folder had the tags "Mother", "Mother-Son", or "Incest" attached. Maggie highlighted one folder with "Mother-Son" beneath it and found an extensive list of files. They were coded strangely but each had the "Mother-Son", "M-S" or some similar notation attached. She clicked on the top file and a video player popped up in a second window. Maggie moved the curser to it and clicked on the run button. The movie, obviously home-made and amateur, began, and as Maggie watched, she realized that it was a movie of a young man having sex with an older woman. The resemblance between the two, who had to be nearly thirty years in age apart, left no doubt as to what Maggie was watching. It was incest! A son and mother having intercourse. Mother-Son sex.
"You have got to be kidding me!" Maggie gasped. She stopped the video, the son in mid stroke driving his dick up his mother's ass centered in the screen, and clicked on the next listing down. Again, an obvious mother-son video, this one a different couple, lying in a big bed, with her eventually atop him riding his long cock through orgasms. Several minutes later, the video ended and Maggie shamefully realized that she had watched the entire movie, nearly ten minutes in length, and yet it was a blur in her mind. She clicked on the next listing, and then the next. All the movies featured similar themes of older women fucking, or rather getting fucked, by much younger men. It began to dawn on Maggie that her son was a true pervert.
"Is this what Patrick enjoys?" she asked the empty house. "Does he like watching older women fuck young guys, their own kids?" She suddenly realized that Patrick had been looking at her strangely at times over the last few weeks. In fact, she recalled several times when she was sure she had closed her bedroom, or the bathroom door, and yet found them slightly open. "Has Patrick been watching me? Is he hot for me, his own mother?" As she thought about it, Patrick's behavior had been going on for some time. At least since his father had been jailed and they had been forced to live in closer quarters. Even back in South Bend, living with her parents, Maggie recalled several times that her then teen-aged son seemed to always catch her in awkward moments, half-dressed in her bedroom or walking in on her in the bathroom. Had he been doing it on purpose, all of these years, she wondered?
In that moment, Maggie heard the deep growl of Landon Stevens' truck approaching. Landon often gave Patrick rides as the two young men worked together at Stevens' Brothers Lawn and Garden Service, a landscaping company owned by Landon's father and uncle. Maggie started to log off from her son's account, but instead she simply shut down the monitor. She wanted to confront Patrick about his secret world, but wasn't going to do it in front of Landon, should he stick around. To Maggie's relief, however, Landon's truck pulled away a moment after stopping out front, and Patrick entered through the side door.
"Patrick," Maggie called, and her son replied with a simple, "It's me." Maggie left the desk and with the nearly empty beer bottle in hand, she found Patrick in the kitchen, where he was also grabbing a beer upon his arrival. "Get me another, would you?" Maggie asked her son as she tossed the empty into the trash can.
"Hey! I paid for those!" Patrick told her. Still, he pulled a fresh beer, the last, from the refrigerator and handed it to her. He tossed his cap into the trash can and passed her, headed down the hallway towards his bedroom. He stank of sweet and dirt, and Maggie realized that he must have been putting in a few extra hours of work and not goofing around at the beach. She was wrong to assume he had been out screwing around. Was she wrong about him having desires for her as well, she wondered? And yet, as she pulled a deep gulp of her fresh beer, she felt a need that maybe her son could in fact fill for her.
In the twenty-eight months since moving to Regal Bay, Maggie hadn't dated anyone on a regular basis. She was technically still married to Roger, even though he wouldn't be out for anther sixteen years. She hadn't had sex of any kind, she realized, since leaving Chicago behind, and that had been a one-off with a guy she had known from the sandwich shop next door to their office for three years. Kind of a give-in fuck to a guy who'd hit on her and flirted with her non-stop, even as she had to defend herself against the very same charges that had sent her husband to Leavenworth Prison. That one-off had been the last time Maggie had had any kind of sex, and it hadn't been all that great, given the three-year build-up. Wham-bam-thank-you-ma' am. Right in the backseat of the guy's Ford Fusion, in the parking lot behind the building she no longer worked in.
Maggie heard Patrick bang the bathroom door closed, and a moment later the shower started up. Her son was cleaning up, as he always did after work. Except for the new knowledge her nibbing on the computer had uncovered, things around their household were holding to the usual routine. Maggie took another gulp of the beer, feeling it in her head for the first time, and set the bottle on the counter. She headed down the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door.
"What?" Patrick barked from inside the shower.
"I'm going to the store in a while," she told her son. "I need you to watch the kids while I'm out. Carol will be dropping them off any time now. Is there anything you want or need? Anything special for dinner?"
"I'm going out to the movies with Landon," he replied. "We'll eat out. You can restock my beers, though, since you've drank them all."
"I only had the two," she insisted.
"Get a case of Sam Adams, instead," he told her, adding, "The Summer Ale. Landon says they're pretty good."
Maggie started to turn away, but hesitated. She looked at the door knob, and then said, "I've got to pee before I leave."
"Really? Can't I get any privacy in this house?" Patrick moaned.
Maggie opened the door and said, "Until we can afford a better house, we're stuck sharing the same bathroom." She left the door slightly ajar as she moved to the toilet. Just beyond the shower doors, which for the first time she realized were a frosted glass, Maggie could make out her son's tall, lean form. She realized that he was standing there, just a few feet away from her, naked and wet. She paused, watching his figure move in the shower, before reaching under her black skirt to tug her panties down. She settled onto the toilet and began to urinate, and yet all the time she was looking at her son.
"What am I doing?" she muttered to herself. Still she watched, and suddenly, she imagined that the women in the videos might have been in just such a situation as she now found herself in. Did they wonder about their own sons' lusts for them? Did they unconsciously give their sons signals that encouraged them into incest? Was that what Maggie was doing, sitting in the bathroom watching her son shower? She never infringed on his bathroom time before. She always waited until he was finished and the bathroom free before she relieved herself. What was she doing now, sitting bare-assed on the toilet, watching her son shower?
