Community Mom
Part Two
Paul’s angry pace slowed as two patrol cars pulled away from the Gillespie home in the gated Briarwood neighborhood.
“Oh, Paul, Jeff is going to be relieved you’re here,” said Judy, giving Paul a long and heartfelt hug.
“Go on, son. He’s in his bedroom,” said John, uncharacteristically home during the workday.
A voice in Paul’s head kept saying, I won’t get to kick his ass. I won’t get to kick his goddamned ass. It’s not fucking fair!
“What the hell, dude?” said Paul, seeing Jeff’s battered face and black eye.
“Chuck knows,” said Jeff, breaking down into tears.
“No shit! He did this?”
“Yes, and, and, he took a bunch of money, saying that’s what I get for stealing his stuff,” said Jeff between deep sobs.
“So the cops are going to arrest him, right?”
“No, I told them I got jumped walking through Lakefront Park. Now, the police said they are going to review the video from the park cameras. I didn’t know the park had cameras. Soon they’ll call us to the station because I lied.”
“Do you know what Chuck’s doing to my mom right now? You got to tell them the truth, dude.”
“Look at me! He said it would be worse if I told on him. Even if I told what are the cops going to do? I’m terrified, Paul,” screamed the small frightened boy.
“Alright, alright, we’ll go talk to Mike.”
Mike became Jeff’s best friend and by extension Paul’s, when in fourth grade he stopped Patrick Turner for beating up Jeff by tossing him into a bush.
Judy couldn’t wait to meet the kid responsible for saving her darling, but her enthusiasm cooled as Mike’s skin was a shade too dark, his hair an inch too long, and he wore a ratty black leather jacket two sizes too big. It was Mike’s mother, Cheryl, who won her over. The freckled redhead showed up at Judy’s door in the best clothes she owned, a dated floral dress.
“I’m a widow. I really don’t have much, just Mike,” she said with an honest smile. “We live in Skidmore.”
The name Skidmore caused Judy’s eyebrows to jump. It’s the name everyone uses to discuss tough neighborhoods in Cleveland.
“But as an employee of the school district, I can send Mike to school in the district where I work instead of the district where I live. I clean toilets so my son can go to your school.”
With that, Judy and Debra unofficially adopted Mike. He went to football games, fishing trips, and summer camp. Pretty much anywhere Jeff and Paul went, Mike got invited. At ten, Mike was already as tall as Cheryl. At eighteen, he stood a foot taller than most men, including Chuck.
Paul borrowed his mom’s car and drove to Skidmore. The Stoners’ trailer looked… lived in. Cheryl felt no shame about it. Paul and Jeff lived in houses, with wall to wall carpet, wide screen TVs, and a never ending supply of pizza rolls. The Stoners had fashioned furniture out of large cable spools and concrete blocks with welcome mats covering the bare patches on the floor.
She didn’t act like she needed an American pedigree or look like Debra and Judy, the original housewives of Lakefront West. But Paul loved Mike’s mother. Cheryl was beautiful in her own knobby kneed way. At home, she wore sunglasses inside the trailer but not her bra, leaving her nipples on display through the thin fabric of her threadbare clothes.
“What you see is what you get,” she would say, drawing the eye down to her five-foot frame, unruly red hair, and the gap between her buck teeth. It matched the gap between her long banana tits that swayed from side to side.
Poor but proud, she kept her trailer clean, and loved telling the boys dirty jokes, sharing smokes and beers. This rough and tumble life aged Mike beyond his years, making him a born leader. Of course, his size didn’t hurt.
“What the hell happened?” said Mike to Paul while looking at Jeff.
“Chuck knows, and what’s worse, Jeff told him the trigger phrases.”
Jeff felt safe, sitting on the bare mattress covered by an Army sleeping bag in the tiny trailer bedroom. Exhausted and emotionally drained, he watched the blue incense smoke twirling from a ceramic skull on the cluttered dresser to the bikini babe poster on the ceiling.
Handing Mike a cold beer, Cheryl took Jeff by the chin, looking at his busted face and swollen eye. She lovingly stroked his hair and said, “Don’t worry, baby. Whatever it is, it’ll be alright. Won’t it Mike?”
“Yeah, maw, I’ve got this.”
“See, Mike’s on it. You don’t have to worry, and don’t forget, we’ve got friends,” she said with a deranged smile, turning her impish features instantly into that of a menacing leprechaun.
“Chuck took enough money to buy the third step, but he’ll have to make some quick cash to buy the fourth. We have some time to find out what he’s up to.”
“What, you’re going to let him use my mom, so you can get the new trigger phrase?”
“No, we’re going to wire the house with cameras and microphones to get evidence.”
“But the damage is already done, right? So there’s no sense in letting a good tragedy go to waste,” said Jeff, coming in from the ether.
Paul frowned at that opportunistic little shit, taking advantage of the situation he caused, leaving his mom to be ravished by strangers when she couldn’t fend for herself. He didn’t believe they should sit and wait. He wanted to beat the piss out of Chuck and toss his lifeless body into the river. After an incensed moment of silence, Paul agreed, thinking there was some wisdom to Mike’s approach, and he was probably too angry, anyway.
“Okay. As you say, the damage is done. Let’s not break up the party too soon,” he said, looking at Jeff.
“Now you’re thinking,” said Mike.
Paul sulked through his first two classes on Friday before he decided cameras be damned. He would be there to save his mother.
During the long walk home, Paul rehearsed his confrontation with Jeff’s uncle, checking his phone twice to make sure he had enough charge to dial 911. He briefly considered meeting Chuck with his old Tee-ball bat. But he decided it’d be too tempting to attack Chuck, and being armed when the police showed up would give Chuck the chance to play the victim.
Paul’s strident march slowed to a weak stagger. Ahead, vehicles of all types surrounded his house. Strangers sat on the front porch, laughing and drinking beer from the inside. More cars pulled in and in the center of the yard, Chuck had parked his rusty yellow van.
“What did I tell ya?” said Chuck to a sweaty construction worker.
“Worth twice the price!” said the toothless man, handing Chuck a fistful of money.
“Is this for real? Debra Thompson’s turning tricks,” asked some man, wearing his golfing outfit.
“If you got the money?” said Chuck.
“Hey Chuck! You son of a bitch! I just called the cops. Let’s see how you like that shit!” yelled Paul, waving his phone.
“Motherfucker! I’m gonna kill your punk ass!” screamed Chuck, running for Paul as the squad car stopped across the street.
“Raid! Everybody out!” said Chuck, diving into his van and driving off through the neighbor’s yard.
The squad car followed Chuck, gunning it down the alley, and everyone else ran out before Paul got to the house. Inside, the chemical smell of jism assaulted Paul’s nose. Dirty shoe prints covered the carpeting, over turned soda cans and paper plates littered the house. Dozens of discarded condoms appeared in random and unsavory places. In the middle of it all, a disheveled and topless Debra Thompson smiled at her son with ‘dumb slut’ written backwards across her forehead.
“Hi honey. You’re home early.”
“I came home to keep Chuck away, but I got here too late.”
“Do you wanna fuck? We’ve got time before your dad comes home, but you’ll want to wipe me out first.”
Dad? In all his planning, Paul never once stopped to think how this would play out with his father. The police had been called, and obviously things didn’t look the way they did when his father left for work.
“You’ve got to get cleaned up, now,” said Paul, pushing his mom toward the master bath.
He came to a complete stop when he saw the disaster that was his parent’s bedroom.
“Oh my god, mom… just get in the shower.”
When she turned her back, Paul could read the vulgar writings and hash marks someone had penned on her skin with a permanent marker.
“Fuck, let me help.”
“Paul, I can take a shower all by myself.”
“Yeah, but you can’t wash your back.”
“You naughty boy, and I thought you didn’t wanna fuck,” she said, rubbing the bulge in Paul’s pants.
Paul thought to himself. If this marker washes off, if I get the house picked up, and if that nasty odor gets aired out, and then if by some miracle the police leave without staying late, how am I going to stop mom from acting like a bimbo?
“What the hell happened?” said Mike.
“What do you fucking think happened? We didn’t want to stop the party too soon! Remember?” said Paul with as much hate and rage as he had ever had for another living soul.
“Whoa, bro.”
“Whoa? How the fuck would you feel to come home and find your mom covered in cum, getting passed around from man to man?”
Then it hit him. Mike gave Paul the silent look only real friends share. The ‘you’ve just gone too far’ look, and instantly Paul realized Mike had watched Cheryl go from man to man, probably more than once.
“Oh, dude, I’m sorry,” said Paul, before Mike stormed out of the house.
“Where’s he going?” said Jeff in a happy little chirp, returning with the video gear and tape recorders. “Oh Jesus Christ,” he said, looking up to see Paul trying to clean the ink off of Debra.
“Alcohol is the only thing that works. I helped at the pool last summer, and we used permanent ink to show that someone had paid.”
“Alright, you can clean the ink off mom, and get her into the shower. I’ll clean up the front room.”
“Wanna fuck?” said a dopey, incoherent Debra.
Paul’s furious glare kept Jeff in line.
“Not at the moment, Debbie. You’ve been busy, and we need to get you washed up.”
Paul had just got back to work when Jeff came out to help him.
“What?”
“She snapped out of it and made me leave.”
“Start by vacuuming the carpet and be careful of these,” said Paul, throwing another squishy clump of used condoms into the garbage with a gloved hand. “I’ll go check on mom.”
“I want to know what happened, young man,” said Debra the moment Paul stepped into her ransacked bedroom.
“You don’t remember?”
“I think I’d remember something like this! So start talking!”
“Maybe we should just show her,” said Jeff, grinning from the doorway.
The house still smelled like cum, but it looked more or less normal when Jeff led the Thompsons to the wide screen TV.
“This better be good,” was all she said, before the video from the hidden camera showed a room full of men watching her get spit roasted between two of them. She raised her empty hands to her face, an involuntary reaction to the horror she witnessed.
“You little shit! You did this!” she said, jumping at Jeff.
“No, no, no, I, I, it was my Uncle Chuck,” he said, scampering away.
“But you brought that chemical here to make me do this. Paul told me all about that odd smelling cologne.”
“I stole it off my uncle. Honestly, I didn’t think it would work. Would you? We’re just goofing around and the next thing we knew… it was too late,” said Jeff, looking way too happy to be sincere.
Both Jeff and Paul could see the storm brewing behind Debra’s brown eyes. Soon lightning would flash and they’d be running for their lives.
“Hey Debbie, show me your tits,” said Paul.
“Okay,” she said, pulling down her bathrobe so he could look at her boobs.
“I love looking at your tits, mom,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“Now let’s finish watching you make porn.”
They turned back to see a grimy construction worker dump his load into Debra’s waiting mouth.
“Oh, that’s Mr. Peck from the T/D Construction Company, and that’s Mr. Hartman from the school board fucking my ass. Where are they going?” she said as all the men ran out of the room.
“That’s when the police came.”
“The police?”
“You can put your top on, mom. Jeff’s uncle pimped you out to our friends and neighbors, and I called the cops to make him stop.”
“Oh, my god!”
“I’m sorry, mom. I didn’t know what else to do.”
“Steven is going to be so heartbroken. I’ve lost my marriage and my home.”
“Maybe not, if we can get the police out of here before dad comes home. He’ll never know.”
“But I’ll know! I did it with other men in the bed where my husband and I sleep. How am I going to face Steven? I can’t sleep there anymore, or go to the store or walk down the street? How am I going to live with myself?”
“I’m sorry, Debra. This is my fault,” said Jeff, realizing for the first time the damage his obsession with Paul’s mother had caused.
Paul’s jaw clenched in rage at Jeff’s pathetic pleas of guilt. He was as much a monster as his drunken uncle. Coldly, Paul played nice.
“Chuck did this, and I’m going to make Chuck pay.”
“How are you going to do that?” asked Debra.
“I don’t know, but I’ll think of something. Right now, watch the video and get the names of all the men that were here today. I am going to tell them Chuck drugged you, and we have them on video. They can keep quiet or face rape charges.”
Just then, a knock sounded on the door.
“That’s the police,” said Paul.
“Hello son, is your dad available?”
“No sir, I made the call to 911.”
“Okay, is your mother home?”
“And I’m eighteen.”
“I’ll talk to you, but I’m still going to talk to your parents, unless you are also the home owner. But for now, can you tell me what happened?”
“The man in the yellow van is Chuck Meyers. You saw him parked in our front yard, screaming threats at me. If you hadn’t pulled up when you did, I think he would have attacked me. Now that he’s gone, I don’t really want to press charges.”
“So you filed a complaint just to waste my time?”
“No sir, I called 911 because a man was threatening me, and now he knows I’ve turned him in. Am I safer with a police report or without it?”
“Your best bet for protection is to file a restraining order, but they’re not perfect. They add criminal liability to the person named on the order, but it’s not protection like in the movies. If this Meyers fella is that dangerous, file the restraining order and get some security cameras. If he comes around again, make a new report immediately. I can add today’s incident to the new report, and it’ll help move your case along,” said the officer, handing Paul his card.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
“You know, I would’ve gotten back much sooner, but some guy must have been late for a golf game. He made a big mess running a red light,” said the patrolman, getting into his car.
Debra sucked on Jeff’s boyish penis while rubbing his sack, causing the young man to shoot his load in record time, filling her hungry mouth with his cum.
“What the hell are you doing? I was talking to the cops. What if he wanted to come in and question mom?” said Paul, in infuriated disbelief, with the veins in his forehead throbbing.
“I waited until he left in his car.”
“What? You waited until he… You mean, you mean you cum in the time it took me to walk from the curb to the front door?”
“I’ve been watching these videos, you know?”
“Do you want to get your dick sucked too, son?” said Debra.
“What? Do you think I’m some irresponsible, selfish little shit like Jeff?”
“Dude don’t even. Mike’s right, you’re as turned on by your mom as everyone else. So don’t even try to go there,” said Jeff, pointing at Paul’s erection.
“Stop looking at my dick!”
Debra rolled her eyes toward her son’s crotch, letting Jeff’s limp dick slip from between her lips. Without a request or trigger phrase, she crawled to Paul, looking up with lust in her eyes. While her forehead no longer read dumb slut, it was easy for Paul to imagine. He didn’t stop her as he felt his zipper open to a waft of cool air.
“Hey Debbie, show me your tits,” said Paul in a low whisper.
He saw the wickedness twinkle in her dark eyes beneath her arched eyebrows. She slowly, seductively pulled her top down.
“Oh my god, mom you’re such a slut.”
Putting her hands on his thighs, she sucked down her son’s hard-on, drinking in his thickness, until his body rested firmly against her nose and chin. She quickly backed off, allowing his entire cock to pop free of her mouth, trailing a copious tentacle of saliva. She caught her breath, jacking his slimy shaft and listening to him make delightfully rude comments.
“Yeah, that’s it, suck it like a whore.”
Paul heard himself say it, but couldn’t believe it. He’d never felt so hard, so horny, or so bad. She was all he could think about, and he wanted to do all the nasty shit with her she’d done with everyone else. He grabbed his mother’s head and fucked her mouth, hitting the back of her throat, until he forced himself past her gag-reflex, cumming hard, and filling her throat.
“Are we friends again?” asked Jeff.
Paul looked down at his beautiful mother. Her face was a mess and her eyes watering. He let go of her ears with a jolt, but she kept still. Devilishly looking at her son, she raised one eyebrow, slowly sliding her tongue out of her mouth to tickle his scrotum, before pulling out his length like a sword swallower at the fair.
“Yeah, we’re good.”
“Where’s the big kid?” said Steve, walking through the house on his way to the den.
“I don’t know, dear. Do you want me to call him and see if he can come over?”
“Debra, comedy is not your strong suit. This place reeks. Try not to use so much bleach next time.”
“Yes, dear.”
“No dinner? I’m starved.”
“Sorry Steve, would you like some horse-cock?”
“What did you say?”
“Polish sausage, dear, we’ve got a sausage in the refrigerator, and it won’t take long to fix.”
“Sure, I don’t really care. What’s all this equipment connected to the television?”
“Oh! That’s me,” said Jeff. “Paul and I filmed ourselves at the skate park.”
“What the hell happened to your face?”
“We were at the skate park, duh?” said Jeff, holding up his hands.
“Wonderful, are you okay to unhook your, whatever this is, please? Sports Link is about to come on. Debra, this chair arm is sticky.”
“One of the boys spilled a soda.”
“What? Now look, when I get home, I only want three things. My dinner, my Sports Link, and to be left alone, and sticky on my chair arm because one of these Gen Zs failed to understand that soda doesn’t belong in the front room doesn’t cut it.” said Steve, stomping into the kitchen. “Jesus fucking Christ! Where’s your bra? You can’t run around the house like that. Our son is right here.”
“Do you want me to find a bra or fix your sausage?”
“Can’t you do both?”
“Well, up to the point that I’m wiping off your chair so you can watch Sports Link.”
“Okay, I get it. It is going to be one of those days where I come home and immediately go to work fixing things for you. What do you need done today, Debra?” said Steve, throwing up his hands and marching into the dining room. “What’s that on the table, applesauce?”
Immediately, Debra, Jeff, and Paul looked up to see a dripping condom tossed onto the dining room chandelier, while Steve looked down to solve the mystery of the gooey mess on the table.
“Mouse!” screamed Debra, hopping up on a chair.
“Where?”
“There! It ran underneath the cabinet!” yelled Debra, stomping her feet.
The boys watched her tits bounce as she quickly shoved the dirty rubber into her mouth.
“Debra, I don’t see any mouse. Goddamn it, I’ll be back. I’ve got some traps in the garage.”
“Please get Mike, before Chuck comes back,” Debra whispered to Paul, wiping the table with a dishtowel.
Paul reluctantly took his mom’s car to the Skidmore while Jeff tagged along.
“Hi, boys, Mike’s in his room,” said Cheryl.
“Dude! Chuck cheated on step 3!” said Jeff, bubbling over with excitement. “He convinced her she was anything he wrote on her body. That way, he could pimp her out without revealing the trigger phrase to his customers. She did some crazy-ass sex, three-ways, four-ways, even a five-way. We’ve got blowjobs and…”
“I get the picture,” said Mike, holding up his hand. He nodded his head toward Paul, who sat on the corner of the bed with his head in his hands.
“Um, so, yeah, maybe he doesn’t want to buy step 4,” said Jeff.
“He will, if for nothing else, to get back at me. I called the cops on his fucking ass and ran off his business,” Paul said, looking away from his friends.
Mike watched the video of Debra turning tricks on Jeff’s phone. He looked over at Paul. There really wasn’t an “I’m sorry your mom got turned into a whore,” Hallmark Card.
“How did Chuck even know about the second step?” said Mike.
“Are you kidding? He hit me,” said Jeff, pointing to his face.
“When it was just the two of them, Chuck’s phone was on the table,” said Paul. “I should have snagged it when I had the chance.”
“We can steal his phone tonight.”
“And then what? He’s already turned mom into a whore.”
“There are some midnight hackers that can sync his phone in no time flat. We’ll take maw’s car. I’ll get the keys and follow you guys out.”
“That’s how I get in, but it’s loud. I only break in when he’s not home,” said Jeff, pointing to the loose panel in the garage door.
“Well, now’s your chance,” Mike said to Jeff, ignoring the hurt in Paul’s expression.
“Then what?”
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe try the windows and doors to see which one would be the quietest to sneak out of?”
The rest of the night looked like a bad cop show.
“What are you doing now?” asked Paul.
“I’m jacking off in the mayo. I got some on my dick. It really feels good.”
Jeff’s voice on the speakerphone filled Cheryl’s antique Mercury Capri.
“Paul’s right, you’re a goddamn greasy pervert. You know the problem about getting mayo on your dick? Now you’re gonna get athlete’s foot on your cock, or worse, a yeast infection. Say, how did your cock get bent? I bet you used to tie weights to it.”
“Shut up, Mike.”
“Hey get down, Chuck’s back.”
“Aw shit, I’ve got mayonnaise all over me.”
“Hurry the fuck up, or get caught.”
“Hey, in the trash are the deposit receipts from where Chuck stole my trip money!”
“Well, grab them and hide, dumbass!”
For three hours, the boys waited for Chuck to go to sleep. Fortunately, he did a fair amount of drinking, making it easier for Jeff to get the phone and slip out unnoticed. Part B of the plan took a lot longer than Mike had imagined, and the sun was already coming up over the Cuyahoga, before the boys made their way back to Chuck’s.
In a scene fit for a movie, Jeff, the smallest guy in the crew, slipped inside his uncle’s house, placing the phone back on the kitchen table and sliding back out unnoticed while Chuck took his shower.
“Well, it looks like he texted 689689 twice,” said Paul, taking notes on a scrap of paper.
“That would have been the notepad command,” said Jeff.
“Here we go! An incoming text from an unknown number and the message is just 699699,” said Mike.
“Thanks guys,” said Paul.
“We’re all in this together,” said Jeff.
“Not this time. This is between me and mom. I’m doing this my way. Doing it your way cost me big.”
“What about my money? I was supposed to go to Europe on that!”
“FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU!!! You can always get more money. Fuck you Jeff!”
“Dude chill,” said Mike.
“No! That’s my mom, and he’s not getting anywhere near her!”
“Okay, don’t get your panties in a knot. Go take care of your mom, but I don’t want you around for what comes next,” said Mike.
“Why?”
“Because Chuck knows you’re no real threat to him. You’re the kind of guy that calls the cops. I’m the kind of guy that calls in favors,” said Mike, lighting his cigarette. “Besides, this mess is my fault, and I’m going to make it right.”