Of Tuesday Ch. 02

This is a work of fiction, and any resemblance between living people and the characters here portrayed is purely coincidental. I appreciate the great feedback I've received from readers, though I thought I should place this disclaimer to clear up the confusion over the nature of the first story. I'm a twenty something man, and Samantha is a creature of fiction. I apologize for the lull between the first and second entries of this story, and I hope this helps make up for it! Thank you all for reading, and remember, I adore comments and feedback of all types! – Gabriel

Part 2: Recollections of Introspection

Terra and I spent our girls' night together, just as planned, despite the heavy thoughts that so thickly saturated my hyperstimulated mind. With the onset of night my newfound personal willpower and blazing desire to return to my independent roots had flickered like television audience attention at a State of the Union address, and my indiscretion weighed heavily upon mind. Throughout the entire movie I grappled with those mocking words, pervert, sicko, freak, and so forth, to the point that Terra inquired often into the state of my health. I brushed her concerns off with a weak story about a headache, but I knew better than to believe that a girl of her empathetic qualities would believe me. She could sense a bad mood like a shark can sense blood in the water, and, unfortunately for me at the time, it was her instinct to track down and attack at the source.

After the uninspiring drudgery of the movie, Terra and I were off to enjoy a nice, tranquil supper under the low-hanging rafters of a local Italian institution which, out of respect for the owner and his wonderful family, I'll leave anonymous. It was there that I hoped to forget at least a portion of my inexorable troubles, tucked away in some comfy corner of the ostensibly quiet, out of the way establishment.

Through either the machinations of fate or a simple stroke of honest-to-goodness dumb luck, Terra and I were led to our seats by the most delightful, perhaps even delectable, man on the payroll. This dime-a-dozen waiter came across as a kindly fellow, young and handsome, the kind of man that you just want to keep in your pocket so you can pull him out and play with him every once in a while. A faceless, needless John... I hope I that I have no need of informing you that my skirted legs crossed in a hurry.

Terra's eyebrow arched as she caught me looking at him.

"No offense, Mom, but he's probably too young for you," she observed, though giving him an examination of her own as he walked away. "He's probably dumb. Lookit, the way he swings his shoulders. He moves like he thinks he's the biggest, strongest person here." Her dark chocolate eyes glittered with interest, I suppose due to this sparkling opportunity to showcase how learned she had become in the ways of men. "Hunter does the same thing, and... well... he's not exactly brilliant."

I considered this, as it was a most valid point in all respects, well rounded and dignified, just long enough to fire back with my own, somewhat less well-advised, point.

"Honey, he's a boy," I said in a low tone, "he doesn't have to be all that smart to have a nice butt."

Terra giggled.

"Mom, you're warping my mind with that talk." She looked over her shoulder, wisps of fluffy brown hair spilling over her bare shoulders like a rain of delicious dark chocolate. "He does have a nice butt, though. For a guy."

Soon after that brief foray into our playful sides, the subject matter changed between Terra and myself. We spoke of school and grades, of the hopelessly dull movie through which he had endured, of music and politics and pretty much anything else that we could come up with in the semi-darkness of that lovely bistro. Silence descended upon us like a deepening tide as we enjoyed our orders of ziti and manicotti with alfredo sauce, dragging along with it the perverse demons with which my mind had been wrestling all night. I stole a glance at Terra now and again, if only to provide reassurance that my mood hadn't conveyed itself to her as well as I thought it would. I had no desire to speak to my daughter of this particular bit of madness, as I'm sure she had misgivings of explaining herself to me.

In that respect, I was just about as wrong a person can possibly be.

"Mom," her voice rose from across the table, "what's wrong? You looked sort of... reflective."

"Hm?" The utterance escaped my lips before the thought to play dumb had even formulated within my mind. "Oh, it's... nothing, honey. I was just thinking."

"About what?"

"Stuff."

"What stuff?"

"Terra..."

"C'mon, Mom, who am I gonna tell?" Terra scooted her chair around until she sat next to me, giving me a playful nudge in the process. "Hey. You always make me tell you what's wrong."

A short, meaningless sigh was my answer... or rather, the herald to an oncoming answer.

"Terra, what would you say if I... started seeing people again?" I asked the question in a timid voice, certainly not the fiery, determined voice that had rung in my head after my immorally conceived climax earlier. Terra, for her part, simply looked at me as if I had sprouted another head.

"I'd be happy for you, just so long as none of them are freaks or something. You don't have to ask my permission to date, Mom." My daughter's head tilted just a little. "Is that what's been bothering you all night long?"

"Well... no, not exactly," I replied, a half-truth for certain, but not quite a lie.

"Then what is it?"

"I just miss my old life, Terra. But don't misunderstand, I love you and I love the way things have turned out. It's just that... when I was just a little older than you, I felt like I was free. Now I feel..." I couldn't believe what I was saying. But no sooner than I had opened my mouth did those pent-up words come tumbling out, and once the flow had begun it was like a raging torrent of flood-swelled water. "... I feel constrained. And lonely, in a way."

When Terra heard the word 'lonely' it was as if a light bulb had clicked on in her head.

"Oh, I see. And that's why your looking at the waiter earlier." She bit her lip, eyes cast to one side as she mulled over my formerly hidden quandry. "I definitely think you should start dating again. But... you need to wear your hair down instead of in that braid you always wear. I'll tell you what... we're about the same size, right?"

I laughed. It was true that Terra and I were almost exactly the same insubstantial height, but my body could never find a niche in the same class as my daughter's... not to say that I am overweight, but I have a bit of winter insulation, while even the staunchest diet-guru would be hard pressed to locate any excess on Terra's slinky figure. I'll admit to slacking somewhat on my excercises as my job became more time-consuming, but at least part of it can be blamed on not being twenty anymore.

"Terra, honey, you're in much better shape than me," I said, another half-truth, but I was feeling self-conscious. Terra just shook her head.

"No, not really. I'm a few pounds lighter, yeah, but I'm sure I've got some clothes that you can borrow. When we get home, I'll show you what I mean."

The rest of the meal passed in a manner that is neither all that interesting nor particularly relevant to the story. We changed the subject to discuss our dim-witted President and his illustrious panel of lackluster political opponents, and by the time we'd finished with that song and dance the check had come and we felt no particular need to stay. As we walked out I noticed our waiter giving a long, lusty look at Terra's pert little ass, and I couldn't help but feel just the slightest touch of envy. The little bastard could have at least given me a glance.

After a quick stop at Video Six for a rental of the latest game that fails to live up to Pac-Man, we headed home. Despite my daughter's assurances that everything would, in fact, be okay, I found myself grappling with a slight sense of apprehension when I crossed the threshold into my den. Terra was already dragging me to her room, and the truth of the matter is that I feared nothing more than to go in there and start to think about listening in on her and Hunter again.

"Okay, Mom," she spoke softly, as if sensing my trepidation on the matter, "take off that jacket while I find you something blue. I think I've got a top that was a little bit loose on me... somewhere..."

I couldn't help but smile as I slid my unimpressive green jacket from my shoulders. Though Terra possessed a streak of brilliance that could carry her through her classes without the slightest hint of effort, she remained one of the most strikingly disorganized people I'd ever met. It was an endearing trait, in a way. In school she was a lazy autumn breeze wafting from course to course; at home she was a spring tornado with a taste for books and paper.

"Here we go," she announced as her rummaging paid off in the form of a deep cerulean, very casual shirt with those darling three-quarter length sleeves and a modest neck-cut that would, at best, provide a clear glance at the wearer's clavicle. I rubbed the material between my index fingers and thumbs, grinning lightly at the smooth texture of velvet beneath the tips. My Terra certainly had good taste. "Okay, Mami," she grinned, dropping into the use of Spanish pet names for heaven knows what reason, "take off you clothes, and try this on. Hurry up! I need to find the skirt that goes with it."

I hesitated. Somehow, the thought of baring my body before Terra struck me as taboo, after having brought myself off by listening to her swap oral sex with Hunter. I felt... dirty, really. The dark thoughts that had driven and consoled me up until then seemed to be on a lunch break, as I could find no redeeming value in stripping down in front of my Terra... nevermind the fact that I hadn't the slightest shade of panties beneath my skirt. Simply standing near her bed lit a fire in my belly, a fire that had infinite potential to spark off an inferno in my wanton womanhood. What would she think of her mother, then? I felt words sliding up my throat, a denial, surely an excuse for remaining clad and doing some housework instead.

"Sure honey, just a second."

Just a second? I was horrified... that was most certainly not a denial! No longer did I have the option of backing out of this, as I had just given verbal consent to my eldest daughter on the matter. My dignity, even the shadow of parental authority, stood in dire jeopardy! Or perhaps it didn't... but for some reason, those were the ideas that struck me in shortest order. I felt just the slightest, fleeting tingle flowing along the surface of my skin as my hands began to busy themselves with slipping my shirt up and over my head, leaving my hair a fluffy, wispy halo around my eyes. The braid came loose, and somehow the feel of those well-conditioned locks cascading down my back heightened the rising excitement at what I was doing. My notions of decency fled before a colossal flood of self-confidence, fueled in a thousand ways by the thoughts of how I could at last begin to reclaim my love for life, how I would soon rekindle my passion for the things I had left behind. The cool air felt fabulous against my exposed breasts, illiciting almost instantly the delicious sensations of my rosy-colored nipples elongating, growing rigid.

"Mom," I heard the voice as if it was a part of a waking dream, "hey Mom! You're spacing out on me, Mami."

I blinked. "Oh," came the brilliant murmur, "I'm sorry. I was just thinking of..."

"The waiter?" Terra glanced down at my attentive nipples and back up into my eyes, grinning out of the side of her mouth. "That's why we're here. I found the skirt, so hurry up!"

I smiled, giving her a quiet apology. I had come that far, and so I knew there was no reason to continue holding myself back. I reached down and tugged upon my own skirt, wiggling just so that my generous hips could slip free of the suddenly meaningless piece of material. The air that had felt so good against my chest felt positively amazing against my tingling center, and the thought struck me that there was no way I'd be getting to bed without visiting the shower head for a while that night. Another thought followed within a bare instant of the first, the notion of just how wickedly erotic it would be if I sent Terra away for a few hours, locked myself in her room, and fucked myself like a madwoman. To lie upon her bed, enveloped in vivid recollections of lust between Terra and Hunter... fantasy consumed me, and would have done a brilliant job of embarassing me had I not chanced a glance into her closet.

My eyes cleared. Terra and I practically shared a closet, as our separate rooms gave up a great deal of their former size to an expanded den. A sudden flash of memory flooded into my sex-soaked brain, the recollection that those two closets had once been a single unit before the need for space drove our ever-efficient contractors to split that entire room into two seperate bedrooms.

"Here you go," Terra announced, derailing my deviant train of thought as she tossed to me a skirt that looked a good two inches shorter than I those I normally wore. I held the garment up to the light, admiring the swirling pattern of midnight blue lines lazing all around the secretive ebon of the material. I stepped into it without hesitation, admiring the softness of its inner lining for a moment before donnning the shirt as well, and laughing as the velvet stretched to accomodate my winter insulation. Terra examined me from head to toe, noting the lovely coincidence of my casual heels' matching the outfit. I could see a slight sense of admiration glittering in her eyes as she led me to her armoir mirror.

"Look at you, Mom," she directed me without any particular need, "in a suit you look... uptight. With that long skirt you were wearing, not a soul on the planet could tell that you hadn't been wearing underwear," - dammit, she had seen - "but look. This outfit hugs your curves and accentuates them, instead of hiding them. Now, brush out your hair, and you'll be a knockout!"

I smiled, despite myself. I loved how my breasts looked all bundled up in that shirt, but didn't openly display the hardness of my nipples. I looked... maybe not younger, but most certainly more alluring, and I definitely felt younger.

"Thank you, Terra," I laughingly said, "I feel free already." I kissed her cheek and gave her hair a ruffle in the way that she had always hated as a kid. She gave my arm a swat before returning the hug. "Now, I've got some housework I really need to do, hon, so you can play your game, or whatever." Housework - my ass! I was headed straight for my closet to do a bit of reconnaisance.

Terra laughed as if she knew better. She probably did... my daughter is brilliant that way.

I had the next two days, Wednesday and Thursday, off from work. I called in anyway, to make certain that my particular brand of services wouldn't be required, and was informed by Domino (not his real name of course) that I needn't come in, but should keep my cell phone on in case things got sticky. I inquired as to why things 'might get sticky' and was told to my great surprise that my assistant Leah had called in sick to work that day. A hundred potential reasons for it passed through my mind, not one of which suggested any illness on her part, but I put those nightmares to bed in a hurry. I thanked Domino and hung up the house phone at exactly seven-sixteen o'clock in the morning.

The previous night had unlocked within me a patient, analytical, and more than a bit diabolical outlook on preparation. I had meticulously researched each and every aspect of what I planned to do, as well as studying my closet to delightful effect. In order to prevent a costly rebuild of the former large closet, a sheet of thin chipwood paneling had been installed to split it right down the center and form two smaller 'there's no way you're walking in' closets. When the outer doors were shut, one couldn't tell the difference at all, but when those closet doors stood open, I could hear with some clarity the things that went on in my daughter's room next door.

My plan carried along with it the same sort of simplicity, and much of the logic, behind a television cartoon. Terra departed for school every weekday morning at about eight-thirty in the morning, at which time I could generally be found shuffling papers at First and Trust Bank. I waited for her to leave, bidding her an affectionate farewell at the door as was the norm on my off days, and spent the next hour or so enjoying a fresh cup of french roast coffee, stretching, or reading the newspaper at varying intervals. The seconds ticked by like seconds that won't hurry the hell up and tick by, but I retained my composure and held my patience firmly in control. I wanted to give her enough time to be in class before I went about my clandestine agenda, as the last thing - the very last thing - I wanted was for her to decide to ditch class and discover my dark and very secret fetish.

At nine-thirty I headed into the closet with a small bag of tricks at my side. I worked swiftly to drill a silver dollar-sized hole in that flimsy wooden paneling, employing my lackluster carpentry skills at their absolute peak of mediocrity, so that a suitable view could be acquired from one end of Terra's room to the other. Above this hole I pinned a brown sock of tones closely matching the panelling itself, so that it could drape down and obscure the opening when not in use. The closet lacked lighting on either side, and so the sock may well have been moot, but I wasn't taking any chances. I certainly didn't want my daughter to find the last of my modifications and get the wrong impression.

I worked like a woman possessed so that within minutes, I had my video camera rigged perfectly into the closet. The television set in my room I connected by cables to the recorder, and... I'm sure I don't have to go into an excruciating amount of detail about what I'd done and would do with that. I knew very well, having thought over my daughter's behavior over the last several weeks, that she and Hunter had probably had sex more than once in that room, and I was willing to take a chance that they were doing it fairly often... at least enough to placate my newfound tastes. I checked and rechecked to make certain that the video feed functioned the way I had planned, and made several trips into Terra's room on inspection of the new hole in the wall. The camera lens, though slightly visible in direct light, blended well into the caliginous belly of the closet. I was set. All that I had to do was wait, and enjoy the forbidden fruits of my labor. I smiled at my untapped resourcefulness, laughing inwardly at just how forcefully I had embraced the perverted longings of the night before.

Hunter visited our house that evening. Upon learning this I made a point to order a sumptuous banquet of Chinese food, which I knew to be to his and Terra's tastes, and so I spent supper trying to steal glances at him while making the most innocent small talk. He was such a striking fellow... hair like bitter cocoa of the darkest seed, eyes that could consume a person's soul within their deepening, black voids, and a body upon which I could iron a shirt. He spoke little of his wrestling, being the modest type, although I asked quite a bit on the subject when Terra excused herself to the bathroom. If that young man knew just why I was so interested in his deltoids and gludes, he might have been more inclined to talk.

He and Terra retired to her room about ten seconds after I took to cleaning up our mess of greasy white and red boxes. I waited for a few minutes before going into my own room and locking the door, desiring no excuse for their suspicions. Butterflies churned in my stomach as I set the equipment to run and stretched out on my settee, eyes fixed upon the screen.