When I was 19 my parents divorced. I wasn’t sure why exactly. All I know is that one day everything seemed fine and the next my father called me at university to tell me the news. I had just returned to school from summer break. I was shocked and asked my dad what was going on. “Things were good when I was home, weren’t they?”
“I thought they were, son, but then your mother…” He stopped himself. “Son,” he said, “it doesn’t matter why.”
“Can I speak to mom?”
It took my father a moment to respond. “She’s…she’s not here.”
“When will she be back?”
“Michael, I don’t really know. I am sorry. She packed a bag and took off.”
My parents had always seemed good to me. They were both successful. My dad was a lawyer and my mother a psychologist. They were healthy and both were incredibly good looking, which had been a plus for me genetically speaking. I had the chiseled cheekbones and chin of my father and the soft, unblemished skin of my mother. And if the size of my cock was any sign, my father had to be well-endowed, which I assumed pleased my mother.
My mother, Grace, had long brown hair and deep green eyes. She was slender but big on top, so big she often complained about her breasts. I knew she turned heads, especially the heads of my friends, but I had never had an impure thought about my mother. Okay, that’s not entirely true, but beyond the common curiosity a son often has about his mother and her sexuality, I never masturbated or anything close to that thinking of her.
“I am sure she will be back soon,” I said.
“I don’t really know, son. I hope so, too.”
As it turned out, my mother didn’t come back. She never returned to the house, never contacted my father or me for that matter. She just vanished. That was difficult for everyone, including her sister and her friends. My father even called the police and they did investigate but I don’t think all that much, if I am honest. Despite her abandonment of all of us, my father always spoke well of her to everyone, especially me. “I know she loves you, Jack, I am sure she does.”
I had felt that all my life. In fact, the only thing my mother ever did to cause me to question her love for me was her disappearance. I worried, as did my father, that she had fallen prey to some serial killer or had literally fallen off a cliff or somesuch.
Our lives went on, but it took us quite a while to stop thinking about her every day. Eventually my father started dating again and shortly after I graduated from university he moved in with Sally Henderson, a school teacher he had represented in her divorce.
I asked him why he didn’t marry Sally and he hung his head and said sadly, “Because to do that, Jack, I would have had to get her declared dead and I just couldn’t face doing that. I think she is alive somewhere.”
“I do, too, Dad.” We hugged each other and did our best to hide our tears.
After university, I took a job for a marketing firm in another city a few hours away from where Sally and my father lived. It wasn’t my dream job, but I figured it was a good start on my dream of owning my own business. Besides, the pay was far more than I ever imagined I would make just out of university.
I had studied my ass off in university and never experienced the wild side of student living that my friends did, but once I was on my own and making some money, I decided to cut loose a bit. I wasn’t ready a relationship and after experiencing a few Tinder and Plenty O’Fish disasters I switched my attention on line dating to frequenting strips clubs and the occasional massage parlor.
There were plenty of both in the suburbs and I did appreciate having some distance between my city life and my desire for titillation and hand jobs from strangers, mostly Asian women in the forties. I must admit I always left the clubs and the parlors feeling a bit dirty and guilty. I had brought up to be respectful of women and there I was ogling women’s pussies on stage and paying women to make me cum with their hands. Sometimes I would ask for more and sometimes I got more, but then the feelings of guilt just escalated.
I was also worried about getting caught, being seen by someone who I did not want to know of my other life. Sure, I had to drive 45 minutes to fulfill my sexual needs, but I worried nonetheless. There were street cameras and once in a while I read about a massage parlor being raided and the men arrested.
So, I stopped cold turkey one day and for the next 10 years I stuck to masturbating and the occasional fling with a secretary at work or a married woman seeking a way to get some attention and affection. By now I had given up on ever seeing my mother again. I finally faced the probability that she was dead.
I was now running my own marketing firm and travelled frequently to other cities. My favorite city was Toronto. I loved the night life there and the long walks I took on Young Street, which was as culturally diverse as it was home to drug dealers, gentleman’s clubs, and massage parlors. Even canlı bahis şirketleri though I was in a different city in a different country, I still abstained from the extra curricular activities of my early days as a copy writer at my first marketing firm.
That’s not to say the urges were not still there. I still masturbated thinking of bimbo blond grinding on my cock in the back room of a strip club or a tiny Asian girl stroking my cock while she told me, “you so big, me want you cum.”
One day on a stroll down Young Street, I noticed a new place called the Lingerie Club. It had a small sign hanging in the window flashing “Lingerie Models.” I walked back and forth in front of the club until I overcame my resistance to enter. When I walked in, the door hit a small bell and a minute or two later a woman walked out of a door into the waiting area.
She was the darkest black woman I had ever seen – African I assumed – but quite lovely to look at. Slender with small, perky breasts, she had hips that she knew how to sway back and forth. She was dressed in a black teddy, garters and nylons, and high heels.
“Hi honey,” she said. Her voice was pleasant. She held out her hand and I placed mine in hers and she led me down a hallway past three or four closed doors into a vacant room. The room was well lit. At the opposite end of the doorway were two racks of lingerie on either side of a Chinese-themed room divider. There was an oversized arm chair about 10 feet from the door facing the racks of intimate wear.
“My name is Alice, ‘hon.” She pointed to the chair and said, “You can sit here.” There was an end table next to the chair that held a bottle of massage oil and a box of Kleenex. After I sat down she stood in front of me. “Do you know how this works?”
“No, not really.”
“It’s 200 for an hour, 120 for 30 minutes,” she said. “You tell me the kind of thing you want me to wear and I model it for you.”
“You’re not supposed to touch me, but you can…” She pointed to the Kleenex. “You know.”
This was different, but it seemed to be something worthy of a test run. “Okay.”
She stood there until I clued in.
“I like sheer white teddies.”
“With panties or not?”
I smiled. “No panties, please.”
Alice walked over to the rack, found what I was wanting and disappeared behind the room divider. Minutes later she was back, standing in front of me in a see-through teddy that revealed everything: her breasts and her pussy which was shaved. Her nipples were hard and she saw me looking at them. “Tell me what you want, baby.”
That’s when I noticed the plush Persian carpet that she was standing on. She was barefoot and was curling her toes into the thick wool. All I said was, “Show me everything.”
Alice walked over to a boom box on the floor and hit play. The music was slow and hypnotic. She returned to her place in front of me and started moving her hips and then began rubbing her hands across her breasts and down between her legs. When she turned around she bent over and wiggled her ass at me. She turned her head, “You gonna show me your big cock, Mister?”
When I stood up to unbuckle, she knelt and positioned her mouth by my zipper. “Come on baby, take it out for Alice.”
I reached inside and pulled out my half hard cock and waved it at her. Her mouth was an inch away but she made no attempt to lick or suck me. In fact, she seemed to enjoy dodging my cock while encouraging me. “Go on baby, start stroking it. I want see how hard I make you.”
I was full erect now and was actually enjoying myself. Alice stood up and moved me out of the way and sat down in my chair and rested her legs on the arms. “Go ahead, baby, get a good look at my fuck hole.”
For such a slender woman, she had a big pussy with about a week’s growth of hair. Her labia were oversized and she grabbed on to each one and stretched them wide apart. “Can you see the pink, baby?”
Her eyes were on my cock. “That’s a nice cock you got.” She reached out and put her hand underneath my balls and let me bounce on her palm while I stroked. “I bet you want to cream my black face, don’t you baby?”
I moved closer to her face and this time my head brushed against her mouth. “Oh baby, yes,” she said, but added, “Why don’t you get down there and get a good look at what you want to fuck.”
I dropped to my knees and she grabbed my face in each hand and pulled me to within an inch of her wet hole. “Can you smell that cunt, baby? Do you want to put it in?”
“I can and I do,” I whispered.
Alice laughed. “I bet you do, but remember the rules, white boy. You aren’t supposed to touch me.” Then she slid two fingers in her pussy and started jamming them in and out. “Can you hear those juices slosh around, baby. I am wet for your big, thick cock.”
Her fingers were soaked and cream was dripping out of her cunt. “Alice,” I said. “Will you suck me?”
Alice removed her fingers and shook her juices onto my cock. She went back for more and did canlı kaçak iddaa it again. I could feel the drops hitting my shaft and balls. “Oh baby, I want to suck your cock and drink that cum.” She moved toward my cock, her mouth open, but at the last second, she turned away. “I want to so badly baby, but I can’t. I just can’t.”
I was stroking like a crazy man now. Her teasing was delicious torment and she knew it. She went back to finger fucking herself. “Oh darling, I wish I could feel your cum pulse into my wet hole. Hell, I am so horny I would give you my black ass.”
Her dirty talk and perhaps the visuals of my cock being hammered by my hand finally got to her and she started cumming, squirting all over my legs. “Oh, fuck me, baby. Fuck Alice’s big cunt.”
And then it happened. Yankee Doodle Dandy started playing. I stopped stroking and looked around.
Alice closed her legs and walked over toward the noise and picked up her phone and tapped on the screen. She grabbed a towel and wiped off her legs and her pussy. “Oh, baby, your time is up.” She began walking towards the rack of lingerie.
I couldn’t believe it. “Your kidding, right?”
“No, baby, you got your time. Not my fault if you can’t make it cum.” She slipped out of the teddy and rehung it on the rack and put on a terry cloth robe and tied it tightly around her waist. She looked at me and chuckled. “Well, it’s a lot smaller now, baby. Maybe come back tomorrow and we can try again.” She walked over to me and picked up my pants and handed them to me. “It’s 2 bills baby.”
By now I was resigned to leaving with blue balls, but she could tell I was still upset. “Maybe tomorrow, Alice will break the rules for her white boy and kiss his cock a little bit.”
“Yeh, I muttered. “When pigs fly.” I handed her the money and quickly got dressed while she checked messages on her phone. A few minutes later I was back out on Young Street. I tried to convince myself that it had still been a hot experience, but I wasn’t having much luck. “Fuck,” I groaned.
An older couple were walking by as I said that. The man frowned at me, but the woman smiled. “There’s always tomorrow, son.”
“Fuck,” I said, louder this time and walked away. It was a cool summer night and after a couple of blocks I settled down. How foolish I was to think that Alice would actually care if I came or not. Come to think of it, she was probably relieved not to have to watch a man spray his cum all over the floor or on her body.
I was hungry and thirsty so I stepped into Bud’s Bar and Grill and took a table by the window. The waitress brought over a menu. “Coffee, Sir?” She had the pot with her.
“Sure,” I shoved my cup toward her and she filled it up and walked away. “Be back in a bit, ‘hon.”
I was still studying the menu when she returned. “Should I come back?”
“No, no,” I said, still trying to decide. I finally landed on the steak sandwich. I turned toward and looked at her for the first time. As I opened my mouth, she took a step back. Her face went pale. It seemed odd to me, but I ordered anyway. “Steak sandwich,” I said. “Salad not fries.”
She picked up my menu and then set it back down. “Christ,” she whispered. “Is it really you?”
I lifted my eyes up again and noticed her chest rising and falling. I could hear her breathing.
“Are you okay, Ma’am?” I noticed something shiny on her cheek. “Are you crying?”
“Mikey, it’s me.”
Shivers ran down my spine. No one called me that, except for my… “Mother?”
“Yes, Mikey, it’s me.”
For years I had dreamt of running into my mother, but eventually I stopped doing that. I ran out of hope and putting her out of my mind seemed to be the healthiest thing I could do. Now, here she was waitressing at Bud’s Bar and Grill in Toronto. I was in shock and I am sure I looked like it.
“Oh, dear,” she said. “I am so sorry. I should have kept quiet.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s dark in here. I couldn’t really make you out.” I noticed her name tag then. “Joan?”
My mother sighed and quickly slipped into the booth across from me. Now the light was better. It was her! It had been 13 years or and she looked older but she still had her perfect skin. She tried to smile, but there was a sadness to her expression. “You don’t know how many times I have longed to see you.”
I pressed my lips together.
She knew why. “I know I hurt you so much, Mikey.”
“Why?” It’s the only word I could utter.
“I will tell you everything, but not here. I have to get back to the tables. Will you wait? I am off in an hour.”
“Well I guess I will at least eat my sandwich,” I said, coldly.
A man’s voice blurted over the patron noise. “Joan, order up!”
“That’s Bud. I gotta scoot.”
The next hour crawled by. I was angry and hurt and happy all at once. My mother was alive and that was a relief but I couldn’t fathom why she just disappeared and then was silent for these years. What could have possibly caused her to abandon her family?
I picked canlı kaçak bahis up my phone several times to phone my father, but each time I set it back down. Better to find out more information, I figured, before I put him through this, over the phone no less.
I watched my mother work. She moved gracefully, even when carrying a stack of plates steaming with food. People’s coffee and soft drinks were kept full, and her demeanour was pleasant and friendly. She obviously knew a few of the patrons, calling them by name and asking about their kids or their jobs. Her body was still slender and despite being encased in an ugly powder blue uniform, her breasts still stood up and out. It crossed my mind that a woman as striking as her shouldn’t be waiting tables, but then I quickly muttered “asshole” under my breath for thinking waitresses should be homely and undesirable. What the fuck was wrong with me?
The hour was about over and my mother poured me another coffee. “I am off in five, Mikey and will come by after I change into my street clothes.”
“Mom?” God, it sounded strange to say those words.
“Can you lose the ‘Mikey’ please. I am all grown up.” I smiled and thought that was the first time I smiled since I walked in.
She laughed. “Oh, yes, of course. I am so sorry, Michael.”
I was checking emails on my phone when the booth shook. My mother was sitting across from me with her hair down. She had put on some make up and lipstick – not too much though. From what I could tell she was wearing a white cotton summer dress with a scoop neck over which hung a black sweater. She was holding the sweater together with one hand to block my view of her cleavage. Her neckline was quite low.
“Interesting street clothes,” I said. Then I added, “You look lovely, mother.”
I couldn’t tell for sure, but I think some pink filled her cheeks. “Oh, Michael, I usually get into a pair of jeans and a sweat shirt, but I have plans. Oh, I mean had plans.”
Part of me wanted to jump right into her story of abandonment but another part wanted to just soak up what was happening. After all the years of feeling abandoned, I guess hearing all the reasons why were not really what I wanted to talk about. Trouble was I had no idea what else to talk about; so, I said, “Did you have a date?”
“God no, Michael.” She let loose a small smile. “I mean, I do date now and again, but tonight…” She paused and ran her finger along the edge of a Formica crack in the table. “It’s not important. You being here, that’s important.”
Without thinking, I reached over and placed my hand on hers. “Mom, go ahead. I want to know what you do.”
“Oh, my,” she sighed. “Well, promise not to think badly of me?”
Sure, I thought. Run off and never contact your son for 13 years and…I took a deep breath. “No, of course not, mom.”
“Sandra – she’s a friend – is, um, performing tonight and she asked me to come watch, but she will be fine without me.”
“Is she a singer?”
“Magician?” I chuckled.
Mother shook her head. “More like…a…dancer, Michael.”
I could feel my eyebrows raise. “Dancer?”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake,” mother said. “It’s amateur night at Pinky’s and there are cash prizes for the best…” She swallowed hard. “She’s trying her hand at stripping, Michael. There, I said it.”
My memories of Alice teasing me shot into my head and then right out again. “Well, is she any good at it?”
“She is pretty good, I think.”
I lifted my empty cup to my mouth and set it down.
“You want more?”
“No, it’s fine. I am buzzed already.”
My mother had forgotten about her cleavage and had folded her hands on the table, which drew her arms together around her breasts and squeezed them together. After waiting forever to see her again, I was acutely aware of staring at her breasts. Clearly mother didn’t just want to watch the strippers. She wanted to be seen as well.
“Do you do that, too?”
“What’s that, Michael?”
“You know, strip.”
Her hands tightened around each other. “Michael, do you think your mother would strip for strangers?”
“Honestly, I have no idea anymore about who you are or what you would do.”
“Fair enough,” she said, loosening her grip. “So, is my son the kind of man who frequents a gentleman’s club?”
I nodded. “I have once or twice.” I smiled.
Mother released a relaxed laugh. “I am sure you have, Michael.”
Now I was curious. Alice walked back into my thoughts. Should I tell her what I was doing just before I walked in to her establishment? No, you shouldn’t. Back and forth my mind went.
I looked up.
“A penny for your thoughts.”
“Oh,” I said. “I passed by some place called the Lingerie Club and wondered what that was about.”
“Not sure but I imagine there’s a bit more than stripping going on there. Some of the girls come in here after shift for a burger. A heavy-set girl, Millie. Some blond I don’t really know and this black girl, Allie or Alice or something.”
I couldn’t help myself. “It’s Alice, mom.”
My mother retrieved her lipstick from her handbag and put some one, all the while looking at me. “So, you did more than pass on by, did you?”