Dakota
Pulling into the driveway at home, I drop my head back and close my eyes. I love my job at Red Bean Coffee. My co-workers are great, and so are our customers. Plus, being a trained barista has its benefits because when my own caffeine cravings hit, it’s easy enough to pull a shot. But today was a long day, and I didn’t have a chance to take a lunch so I’m starving and grateful to be home. I’m just thankful that our last customer got their latte and left without lingering around the shop.
Opening my eyes, I take in the mansion I live in with my mother and shake my head before heading inside. After my parents divorced, Denise, as my mother prefers to be called in front of others, became a realtor. It wasn’t long after when she bought this house. The place is over the top with its seven bedrooms and six baths, but she insists that good realtors have to live in extravagant homes if they want their clients to trust them. Of course, in her opinion a house is either palatial, or it’s a dump; there’s no in-between. I guess it doesn’t matter that these digs have her overextended with a massive mortgage she can barely cover.
But hopefully, I’ll be able to move out soon. Living with my mom has never been easy, but now that I’m in community college, it seems like her bitchy attitude has taken on new strength. Particularly when it comes to my weight. Denise is as thin as a whip, and in her opinion, skinny is the only acceptable weight for all women. She keeps her figure paper-thin through a steady diet of nothing at all. I swear, she lives on water and punishing workouts. I’ve seen her suck the flavor out of an almond here and there, but I’m certain she’s never been bold enough to actually swallow one. Calories are a girl’s number one enemy, after all.
By contrast, skinny and I do not belong in the same sentence. I am, and have always been, a curvy girl, much to my mother’s dismay. No matter how many diets I’ve tried, or how much I exercise, I cannot make the number go down on the scale. In my mom’s opinion, that means I’m not trying hard enough, a.k.a., I haven’t thrown myself into the diet where I starve myself completely while working out more hours a day than I sleep. I just can’t do it. I like food, and I absolutely detest being hungry.
But at least Denise isn’t home right now, so I can cook in peace. Putting a pan on the stove, I pour in light olive oil, and put the heat on medium. Then, I grab a chicken breast from the fridge and season it with garlic and rosemary, as well as a dash of salt and pepper. Even though I can’t lose weight, I still appreciate eating delicious, mouthwatering meals, and enjoy preparing food too. After all, life is short and eating is one of the great blessings of being human.
Suddenly, a loud thumping sound distracts me right as I’m about to add the chicken to the hot oil. I groan to myself. We had raccoons in our attic last year, and it was awful. They’re probably back again, and my heart sinks because getting rid of rodents when your mother refuses to pay a professional exterminator is a huge pain. I’m not looking forward to confronting the varmints all over again, but what choice do I have?
Sighing, I turn off the stove to be safe and stick the plate with my still uncooked chicken breast on it back in the fridge before heading upstairs to look for the raccoons. Hopefully, they’re friendly this year.
I trudge to the main landing upstairs, but surprisingly, the sounds aren’t coming from above my head. Last year, I could definitely hear the raccoons scurrying about on the roof, and it was awful. It’s hard to fall asleep when the scuttle of small rodent feet keeps scratching relentlessly. But today, the noises are coming from down the hall this time. Really? Did the raccoons find some way to get into the walls? God help me, but I hope they’re not indoors. I would absolutely scream.
Tentatively, I creep down the hallway. I don’t want to confront the rodents, but I know I have to because Denise certainly won’t, that’s for sure. Some things don’t bother my mom at all. She likes her life to look nice on the outside, so our house always has a perfectly manicured lawn and an immaculately swept driveway. But on the inside, things could be falling apart and she wouldn’t care. We could live in a dump, as long as people don’t see.
Slowly, I stalk closer to the master suite in the back. By now, the scratching sounds have turned into odd thumps, and I pause. The raccoons must have gotten a rock, and they’re banging it against the carpeted floor. But why would they do that? Creeping closer, I lean forward and peer into the master suite. I half expect to see rodents riding around on tricycles, but a gasp escapes me instead because it’s not raccoons at all. It’s my mom and my boyfriend Eddie humping like rabbits!
“Unnnh,” Denise moans in a low voice as Eddie drills her from behind. She’s on her hands and knees, trying to muffle her moans in a pillow, but my boyfriend grabs her hair then, and jerks her face up.
“You like it, don’t you, you naughty MILF?” he rasps in a low voice. “Who knew you were such a slut?”
Denise can’t respond, but her expression is one of pure ecstasy.
“Mmmm!” she cries again. Then, Eddie pounds especially hard, and I realize what the thumping noise was – the bed frame, knocking against the wall. At that, I let out a shrill scream as the blood runs cold in my veins.
“Mom? Eddie? Oh my god! What are you doing?”
It’s a stupid question because I can see clear as day what they’re doing, and the sight is absolutely horrific. How can this be happening? After all, Eddie is my boyfriend, not hers. My boyfriend, whom I hardly ever have sex with because he has a problem getting his dick to stay hard.
But they keep going, so I scream again. “Mom! Eddie! Stop, STOP!”
Another millennium passes and they don’t even look up. They’re going at it like wild beasts, their flesh slapping together as the headboard bangs. Finally, Eddie grips my mom’s narrow hips and lets out a huge groan.
“Unnnh!” he bellows. “Fuck!”
Clearly, my boyfriend’s just come, and something’s happened to my mom too because Denise shudders violently as her pussy pulses. She lets out a small mewling noise, her tiny frame trembling, and then they pull apart and collapse on the bed, sweaty and naked. Only then, do they see me standing there, my mouth gaping open.
“Mom?” I whisper in horror. “Eddie? What’s going on?”
At that, Denise reaches around, pulling a blanket over herself as she sits up against the headboard, looking a bit embarrassed. But of course, it’s too late. I’ve seen more of her than any child ever wants to see of their parent.
Meanwhile, Eddie isn’t as modest and scrambles up next to my mom in all his naked glory. He’s got your typical high school jock good looks with blue eyes and blonde hair, and a decent six-pack of abs. But none of that matters because he was just diddling my mom! Who does that? Denise has got to be at least twenty years older than him.
Unfortunately, Eddie doesn’t even appear embarrassed. The arrogance in his stare as he tosses an arm around Denise’s shoulders makes me want to slap him and scream while crying at the same time.
“What the hell are you guys doing?” I shriek again. “Mom, why? You’re old enough to be his mother!”
The skinny woman immediately sits straighter, clutching the sheet to her breasts.
“Watch your tone, young lady. I am not old. Are you implying that I’m old?”
I roll my eyes through the tears. “Yes, because you are old! You’re two decades older than him!”
Meanwhile, Eddie squeezes closer to her on the mattress.
“Ignore your daughter, Denise. Dakota’s just pissed because you’re hotter than her.” He runs his eyes up and down my body with a look of disgust and grabs his crotch in a vulgar manner. “No matter how much I tried, my dick couldn’t get hard looking at her fat ass. It was that bad. None of this is your fault, sweetie.” Leaning over, he kisses my mom’s cheek, and I nearly puke when she blushes. “Guess my anatomy knows quality when it sees it.”
I swipe at the tears streaming down my face because this is absolutely unbelievable. Can this really be happening? Did my boyfriend just bang my mom and blame it on me?
“What is wrong with both of you?” I scream again. “This isn’t how a mother treats her child!” Then, I narrow my eyes at Eddie. “And you have erectile dysfunction! I don’t know how you got it up this time, but it was probably using drugs! Tell me, was it a blue pill? Cialis? Viagra? Something illegal from Mexico? Don’t you dare blame me because we both know the real problem is yours. You are nothing but a tiny little boy with a tiny little cock. We are so done!”
Eddie’s face turns red and you can tell I’ve hit a sore spot. He makes to get out of the bed with a threatening expression on his face, but it’s too late because I’m out of here. In a rush, I turn around and take off down the stairs, grabbing my keys from the entry table before dashing out to my car. I don’t care what happens now. The ultimate betrayal has just occurred, and it’s time to escape the scene of the crime.