She Wonders Ch. 04

There was a loaded question. But John had more to tell. 'Monday afternoon I crept into the house after she told me she was going to get her hair and nails done, amongst other things. That bitch already milks me dry. A divorce would wreck me, mum,' he pleaded, suddenly looking at her.

'I came home and heard them upstairs...'

'Christ, why didn't you do something, John?' Eric asked, growing all the more frustrated.

'I'd have killed them, Eric,' John bitterly spat, and then; 'That's not me! I don't want to suffer them any more than I already have to.'

'What'll happen?' Sandra asked her mum, her eyes searching desperately. 'What are you going to do?'

Sara wondered, and then Sara shrugged. That was it?

'I gave him my answer,' she finally said, and it shocked her children to the core to hear it. But there was a bitterness she couldn't hide. She had given him her answer, alright - against all common sense and for the sake of the family that he had destroyed in the end.

Or maybe there was still a way of saving it. 'You can't be serious,' Sandra implored. 'You just can't!'

'Sandra!' This time, against odds, it was Eric speaking up, and his reasoning all but came to the rescue. When he had her attention, he suggested; 'Maybe it's John's choice first and foremost what he wants to do?'

Sandra immediately looked to her mother and then to John, and then she settled down. 'What do you want to do?'

'I want out,' he choked. 'But I have kids. She'll take me to the cleaners...'

'Not if it's her fault for the divorce, surely,' Sandra reasoned.

'The law is almost always on the mother's side,' Eric said. 'She might have failed as a wife but if she gets the court on her side as a mother, she gets the kids and the "maintenance".'

'And she stay home and looks after the kids anyway, while I work twelve hour days to afford them. They practically eat out of her hands,' John considered the facts grimly. Then looking to his mother; 'What if I wanted a divorce anyway?' he asked. 'What could I do?'

8

Jim's last sandwich in his marital home consisted of boiled ham, mature cheddar cheese, and piccalilli on white medium sliced bread. On the same plate he piled on a packet of ready salted crisps, and hobnobs, which he slowly devoured in front of the television; watching an old Robert Mitchum war movie.

He heard the voices at the window before he heard the key slide into the lock. Just as he suspected, his ever-distant wife and her brat Eric. It was going to be entertaining to say the least, hearing her explain where she'd been the past two days.

But then as he lowered the TV volume to eavesdrop, a chill ran down his spine, leaving him with a sense of unease. Those weren't the only voices.

'Alright then,' Sandra said beneath her breath.

Exhaling heavily, John supposed; 'Now or never!'

Neither of them would forget the image of their father sitting there in his pigsty, eyeing them inquisitively from his seat the moment they walked into the room. Especially the way John and his mother glared at him, Eric and Sandra could easily imagine that their dad knew the score.

The gig was over. They all knew!

'What are you two doing back?' he asked.

'We never left...' John was careful not to add the term of endearment on the end that he was so used to using all his life - Dad!

'Just like you never went to Scotland,' Sara said coldly. Until the later words - "I think I will take that divorce now" - that would be all she said.

'Yup,' John nodded. 'Never went to work yesterday either,' he added.

Jim didn't know where to look. Worse than having to face the truth was the fact that he was forced to face it from his corner - his most vulnerable spot in the house once that armchair of his now that his children no longer saw it as his throne - and with no escape.

There would be no hearing it from an untouchable place, from a safe distance, and his face said that he knew it.

'Busy getting your dick into my wife,' John added, nodding furiously, and again the dam burst and he was in tears. 'I expected she was a fucking backstabbing bitch, but you of all people?'

Horrified, Jim had nowhere to look but the television. Now more than ever he wanted to reach for the controls - how he loved being in control - and turn up the volume again, drown out reality and not have to look into either of their faces.

And just like his father had done to him on numerous occasions, Eric took the remote, turned off the TV, and threw it back down onto the table for the piece of shit that it was. Yes he was like his father in ways, and he had his own crimes to atone for, but now would not be the time.

Now was the time to do right by those who deserved it!

'Are you listening?' he wanted to ask, but he didn't. Just like his mother, whose side he returned to, Eric held his silence and let John say what needed to be said.

'I want her out of my life,' John struggled to conclude beyond the flood of tears now blurring his vision and strangling his words; 'But you don't always get what you want, do you? You always told me that. In the near future I'll get to see my kids maybe two days a week? I'll still have to look at that cunt and remember how she fucked up my life...

'But you,' he struggled on; 'You I'll remember as the piece of shit she was fucking on the side while she messed with my head. And you I won't have to look at for as long as I live, "dad"!'

'John, whatever she told you,' Jim began to say, his hands stretched out defensively, and his words were slow and deliberate.

'Shut up,' Sandra murmured, unable to look her father in the eye. 'You don't get to explain yourself unless he wants an explanation. Admit that you're caught...'

'You can go to hell for all I care, you fucking bastard,' John spat. 'I might fucking kill myself rather than have to live with how you've fucking betrayed me.'

Sara, Sandra, and Eric, would never have allowed it. For a long time they would draw together as a family like never before to make sure it would never come to that, but for now nobody believed it quite like John, who was bordering on hysterical.

Now was the time, Eric reckoned, to give their mother five minutes alone with the old man. And so he asked Sandra to help John to their old room. Once there, alone with them, he saw something between them unexpected.

Maybe it was that he was the outsider of the three, the third wheel might have been a better phrase, but as John sank into his old unmade bed, Sandra instinctually curled up behind him and began to whisper inaudibly into his ear.

The way she kissed his earlobe too - maybe he could see what he had never seen before because of the relationship that had grown between he and his mother - Eric saw a closeness they had never shown anywhere else.

But they had always been closer than most siblings. He had only grown used to it over the years, which was why he joked about them getting married.

'Can you leave me alone with him a bit?' Sandra asked quietly. Eric nodded and left for his own room to wallow in the utter surrealism of it all. Meanwhile he remained at great unease of the silence downstairs. Were they even talking?

Of course they were, like two cats on the garden wall at night, preparing to battle for the sake of territory and with no love lost. But finally he heard his mother's words and they really did just come down to that one sentence:

'I think I will take that divorce after all!'

9

The house looked different. Just over a year passed now, and Sara looked at her lot in life, at least what remained, and was blessed to discover that she could be happy with it. It only took for her family to pull together for each other - Jim now gone and most often forgotten - and with John on the mend.

Eric spent so much time at the house now that she sometimes joked he was paying rent to the wrong landlord. John often joked that he was sick at the sight of Eric, but he didn't mean it. He was occasionally quite verbal about how much he appreciated his little brother being there when it mattered the most.

With Sandra too, it mattered a lot. Sandra's own marriage seemed to be put on hold a couple times after that night of nights. But Kevin seemed to understand. He was there too with the kids when they and John's kids weren't turning Sara's house into the Wacky Warehouse.

On a fine summer's day everybody was there - at least everybody that mattered. Marie had resorted to having her niece drop off the kids, knowing that everybody would be there.

They had a party and a barbecue in the garden, plus special guest. John had invited a girl he met at a work employee's night out recently, and he seemed quite taken by her. Notably Karen also had a good head on her shoulders, Sara saw.

She was a working girl, a carer by vocation rather than career, not that either was a plus or negative really. What was evident to her, even before John seemed to realise, was that Karen could be a keeper.

Even before they had started dating, she was thinking about how empty the house would be once he was back on his feet. But she would always have him, Sandra, and Eric, and the grandkids - never too far away by one means or the other.

It didn't take forever for Sara to realise that, yes, the chances of marrying again and growing old with somebody would be slim to nil. But she wasn't alone and she could be happier this way than to have bitten her tongue and to watch her family self-destruct while hoping to keep up appearances.

They had all been guilty of something and they had all suffered, but was that not their atonement? It was time to move on the best way they could, and that was happening in good time.

10

One cool evening the doorbell rang out. Eric stood waiting, spinning the keys to his car on one finger, perusing the flowers in his mother's garden. The door opened and he heard the words; 'Oh not you again?'

'You dressed for a funeral?' Eric asked his brother, who was fixing the tie of his suit. His black leather oxford shoes were polished almost religiously, and nearly sparkled.

'I got a date, you cheeky sod,' John responded, looking down on him with a hopeless grin. 'Last I heard so do you,' he added, taking note of Eric's usual shabby attire. 'Where are you taking mum, Taco Bell?'

'Hahahahaaaa,' Eric laughed sardonically. 'Look at you, growing a sense of humour.'

'No I appreciate you doing that for her,' John dialled it in. 'I know I owe her more than I've done for her.'

Together they walked into the living room, where Eric put his brother at ease. 'No the deal is that you get your life together, and that's all she's asking for. You let me take care of mum.'

'You always have,' John said appreciatively.

'Don't you forget it,' Eric responded cheekily. 'Where is she?'

'She's been in the bathroom the past hour.'

'Women,' Eric exclaimed and his brother chuckled dryly. Five minutes later his brother surprised him with a hug. He had grown used to this new side of John by now, but still it surprised him that things had changed this much.

His breakdown had worked wonders for his character. It had also worked well in court, coupled with the social media and phone evidence of that dumb moose Marie trying everything from threats of violence and blackmail, to suggestions that he should in fact just kill himself.

Everything was coming up roses for John, and Eric was happy for him.

'I'm off now,' John said as he was leaving the house.

'That what the smell was?' Eric called out. No answer - he was gone already.

11

Eric climbed the stairs slowly, and even from the bottom he could sense the intermingled scents of steam, soap, moisturiser, and perfume. As giddy as it made him, it was the smell of home and he couldn't have felt more relaxed at that point.

Lightly he knocked on the bathroom door and announced his arrival. The lock on the door clicked, and with a waft of brightly lit steam, the door opened, and there was Sara stood wrapped in her fluffy white bath towel, her damp hair glittering like brushed gold, and with a sweet smile on her lips.

'Hi,' she greeted.

'You're always in the shower when I arrive,' Eric noted, and then; 'I'm starting to think you're a bit of an exhibitionist.'

Sara laughed shamelessly, holding her towel so that it wouldn't "accidentally" fall to the floor and leave her exposed to him. Brushing past, she assured him that she was nearly ready, before slinking off to her bedroom.

These days her bedroom was john and Sandra's old room. They'd completely redecorated the house, threw out the old beds and replaced them, and her old room was now temporarily John's.

Eric followed, and as she sat at her dress mirror, now blow-drying her hair into a long and feathery golden mane, he sat on the edge of the bed and regarded the sensuality of her smooth and slightly bronzed shoulders.

In the mirror Sara watched and was aware of his roaming eyes. Her hair done, she switched off the dryer and settled it on the makeup table, regarding her own appearance for a moment. 'What do you think?' she demanded his opinion. 'Little bit of makeup?'

'Gorgeous either way,' Eric answered in all honesty.

'You're biased,' she chided with a pouting smile.

'Favouritism,' was all he said after that, which made it hard for her to control the smile broadening on her lips.

'Good, but that doesn't answer my question,' Sara pushed.

'Would it make you feel prettier for me?' he asked.

The smooth bastard! Sara said nothing and began to apply a little eyebrow pencil, a little eye-shadow, blusher, and lip gloss. He did like the lip gloss, more so than the regular lipstick. And against all odds it worked for her, despite her deceitful age.

'Beautiful,' Eric whispered, and how he'd done it without her noticing - Sara must have gotten too engrossed in her handiwork - he was whispering right into her ear, his big warm hands settling on the bare skin of her shoulders.

Delicious tingles began to run down her spine, like a bonfire night sparkler fizzling hot and cold at the same time. She baited her breath at the sensation of his breath against her neck and stared deep into his eyes through the mirror's reflection.

'You really think so?' Sara asked, turning to putty in his hands - more malleable the warmer his touch became. Eric nodded quietly, and then lowered his head to kiss one exposed shoulder. That time she clearly shivered.

'What shall I wear tonight?' Sara asked. 'What do you think?'

'Where would you like to go?' he asked in return.

She swallowed dryly, and couldn't believe that after all they'd been through, that she still had to summon the courage to just go with her feelings. Those three times they'd been together in secret had happened over a year ago now.

That year and a few months seemed a lifetime though. Everybody had changed to some extent. She never thought she would go back to feeling the way she had when everything was falling apart.

But now everything was on the up, and everybody was moving on with their lives, and once she started to think of her youngest son again that way, her feelings warming towards him again that way quickly became a certainty.

He was just yet to know about it. And so where would she like to go that night?

Sara hitched a thumb in his direction, and over one broad shoulder to the opposite wall, where he had been sitting on the bed, watching her.

'About six steps back in the direction you came from,' Sara said, and turned her head to gauge his reaction. Slowly but surely, realisation dawned on Eric, and his lips too began to hitch up into a smile.

Their eyes meeting, full of wonder and amazement, for a moment they just gazed and smiled hopelessly. She really meant what she meant. When that truth hit home, his lips met his mother's in a tender kiss, which she immediately reciprocated with a now familiar language of their own.

'What do you think then?' she asked one more time.

Eric showed her what he thought, with one hand gently unwrapping the towel to reveal her nakedness for the first time in what felt like forever - too long!

'Oh well I think we should dress down,' he flirted, and kissed her again and again. And soon he had her breasts and shoulders heaving with heavy breaths as their lips together worked their magic.

Before they could even move from her seat at the mirror, he had her turn around and he was on his knees, one nipple sucked into his mouth and then soon the other.

'Oh,' she gasped each time he sucked and licked at her tits, tickling her with his tongue and drawing the shallowing breaths from her narrowing throat.

John would not be home until sometime the next day. They had the house to themselves all night long and the night was young, like him, and the way he made her feel. Sara forgot how young he made her feel when he had ravished her those three times. Now it all came flooding back, like the juices now collecting deep in the pit that once brought him life.

'This'd be easier lying down,' she suggested with a wicked smirk.

'There's no rush,' Eric assured her, nursing from each breast like that was all his mouth was for. Again he flicked his tongue over a nipple before planting a dozen soft wet kisses on it, and soon her pussy was electrified with the power of thousands of receptive nerve endings.

'Then in that case I wouldn't mind getting on my knees for you,' she hinted. Eric didn't need that spelling out.

12

It'd been a long time since Sara had willingly gotten down on her knees. She hadn't forgotten the thrill of it, having a man's hard cock in her mouth, having such power and control over body and mind and with only the use of her lips and tongue.

In the most feminine way it was a reversal of the roles. Eric's expression said it all, looking down on her as she glided back and forth, widening her jaw a little at a time to try to fit in one girthy inch after the other.

She was screwing him, and so very intensely, deliberately so unpredictable in rhythm, tempo, and intensity, that the poor boy didn't know whether he was coming or going. All the while she looked up to him with wide searching eyes, reading his tense expression, his body language and his loudening groans.

From where Eric was standing, the birds-eye view of his mother perched before him, wetly plunging her mouth back and forth on the end of his rock hard boner, was driving him wild with arousal. Her pinup girl posture, the way she seemed to offer up her tits to him, arse curving outward around behind, it wouldn't be long before he would want her in that bed as she had suggested.

With a wet pop, Sara pulled off and licked her lips, gushing, 'I've missed the taste of you,' before gripping the thick base of his erection and guiding him back in.

'You feel so fucking good I swear I don't even...'

Pop!

'You don't what?' Sara asked with an innocent smile. She might have suited a halo, but it'd have been propped up on two horns the way she was behaving now. She knew what she wanted, she knew how to get it, and she knew that to give was to receive and that she was well and truly going to.

'I don't have the words,' Eric panted as she went back to rolling her smooth tongue around the head of his cock, tasting and swallowing eagerly the preview of things to come.

'Feel free to show me,' she suggested, then ran her tongue underneath his entire length. His manhood was large, bigger than she could recall, and maybe because she had measured him with her mouth, her hand, and her pussy before, but this was a first - kneeling before him with his balls resting against her chin, while his hardness rested heavy from her lips to the top of her forehead.

Ripping off his t-shirt, Eric proposed that he did have something to show her. Excitement overrode her body then, as she looked up to his almost godly strongman physique. Her roaming hands quickly went to explore his hard abs and his ruddy hips and loins.