The Family BBC - Chapter 8 - Sex Stories

The Family BBC - Chapter 8

... fixed a salad for lunch during my shift. When it was over, I took a bath and rested. Ridley found me in my houserobe lying in bed. I had left the door open, because being alone in a closed room was beginning to make me anxious.

"Hey, Mom." He poked his head in.

"Hey."

"Are you sick?"

"No, Honey. I had a stressful day."

"I could give you a massage."

"That's very kind of you, but that's your father's job."

"We don't have to tell him."

I suddenly felt like I was in a story trope. "Now you're just being silly."

He giggled. "Peg would flip if she saw me rubbing your back."

"So that's what you're up to." I figured his motives didn't center on me.

"She started it, trying to accuse you of doing something bad with Mr. Jones."

"I forgive her. She's has her own problems which I can only do so much to help her with."

"That's what makes her mean?"

"What makes you want to be mean to her?"

"I don't know. She's so unfair all the time."

"What did you think of Mr. Jones?" I skipped a beat in our conversation.

"Huh?" His head tilted. "Uh..." He thought for a bit. "...I guess he's okay. I didn't like that he was mean to Dad." He said "Dad" instead of "Daddy."

"Mr. Jones was very tired, and his upset stomach got the best of him. Can you forgive him?"

"I guess." My son took a gamble in telling me, "I kinda liked being called Rider."

"Even when your sister made fun of that?"

"She's just jealous that I got something cool from him even ...

... better than condoms."

"You think your sister cares about an old, black man?"

"You're being racist, Mom."

"I suppose you're right, but how would you react if you found Mr. Jones doing something bad to me?"

"I'd beat him up Mom. He's just an old guy. Would he really do something bad to you?"

"No, Sweetheart. I'm just trying to understand how you feel about him."

"Huh."

"Do you have homework?"

"Yeah." He shuffled away to his room.

I imagined Ridley smashing a baseball bat into Leland's spine, after discovering him belting me. I wish I could report masturbating to that comforting image of being saved by my son. I just sighed and dressed for the evening.

A text arrived on my phone, from an unknown number. "I finally bought a new phone, Leen! Give me a call." I considered Leland was playing a trick on me, but I had entered the black man's new number in my contact info, so his calls would bypass filters against unknown callers. I texted back. "What did the garage mechanic ask me?"

"I'm not sure I should text that without encryption."

Close enough. I called him. "Congratulations, George, you're live in the real world again."

"It's a strange, real world."

"You're telling me." I wished I hadn't said that.

"That tells me you aren't forgiving yourself enough, Leen."

"How are you doing on that 'work?'"

"Poorly, but I'm feeling less sorry for myself."

"Why don't we celebrate spending a bunch of money for your phone, by going out for ...