Alice B. Handcock
(c) Alice B. Handcock
work of fiction is intended for mature audiences only. All
represented characters are consenting adults eighteen years of age or
older – any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is
purely coincidental. All characters engaging in sexual relations are
over the age of consent and are not blood related. This work is the
property of Alice B. Handock – not to be reproduced without
I hated it when my boy
It didn’t happen
often. I remember when he was a young child, he would fall over,
scrape his knee and jump right back up again with a smile on his
face, the bright red blood streaming from his scraped knees. He would
run over, chuckling, while I made ready with the band aids. It seemed
as though all he needed was a hug from his Mom and everything would
Emotional hurt though.
That was way harder to fix.
There was no band aid
that could be put over a breaking heart. No special kiss that I could
give him that would heal the trauma of losing your first love. No
cuddle he could get that would console him over unrequited love.
Or so I thought.
It seemed that my
little boy, my Danny, who had grown up far too quickly into a young
man, could indeed be healed by the love his step-mom could give him.
It made me feel wanted, as much as it comforted him on his journey
through life and love in 21st
The day had started
like any other. I had made him his breakfast, and we had sat at the
breakfast bar, his Dad, him and myself, and gone over the order of
the day. As usual, Steven his father, was off to work in the city. He
had a short drive to the metro station, followed by a dank and sweaty
commute across town to the software house where he worked. He was a
successful man, and I was grateful to the Gods that had first crashed
It was some fifteen
years ago when I had missed the red light and driven my beat up old
Buick into his Mercedes at that road junction. It had put the seal on
an already shitty day. I had been fired from one waitressing job too
many, and sworn that this would be the last one I ever took on. My
eyes were puffy and misted up when I kangaroo hopped into the back of
his automobile. Crying and driving never makes for a good
combination. The anger on his face, the warpaint of disappointment as
he clambered out of his car, pausing to check the damage to his
fender, melted when he saw me, quivering and blubbing in my driver’s
seat. He could see that I was at the very end of my tether, about to
do something maybe even more stupid than ram-raid another motorist.
He broke into a big smile as he bade me wind my window down.
“Hi. My name’s
Steven” he said, in the friendliest of tones. “I guess we have to
swap insurance details. If I say that I backed into you, will you go
for dinner with me?”
It was the smoothest
pick up line I had ever gotten. I melted before him, bursting out in
full-blown tears. Everything flooded out of me. My husband leaving
me. My rent arrears. My lack of job, and life satisfaction. He just
soaked it up as he leaned over into my window, writing out his number
and leaving it on my dash.
Our date, and the
subsequent three month courtship, was like a dream. He was the
perfect man, treating me at all times like the lady I had forgotten I
was. We were married, and I was installed as a loving housewife, and
mother to his four year old son, Peter, all within three months.
Steven muttered his
appreciation for the home-cooked breakfast I had fixed him, as I did
every morning. Although there was no need for me to rise so early, I
always made them both a hearty meal before they went out. In truth,
it was as much for myself as for them. Some days I hardly spoke to
anyone during the day. The girls at the gym pouted, and some of them
smiled at me, but even after fifteen years I didn’t feel like part
of their set. To them, I thought, I would always be white trash.
I turned to Peter.
“So what do you have
going on today honey?”
He looked up from his
pancakes and grinned
“Spending the day
with Josephine Mom” he twinkled. He was spending every day with her
now. He called it ‘revising’. I hoped to hell he was fucking her.
All young men should be doing that.
“Well, you two be
good” said his killjoy Dad. “No fooling around ok? I don’t want
her irate father coming after me because you got her pregnant just
before she goes to college, ok?”
“Dad! Please! Give me
some credit” Peter retorted. He was right. He was a sensible boy.
He would use condoms.
Or go anal!
An hour at the gym and
another at the store, buying groceries for a special meal I was
planning for my two boys, and I was home by 12. The sun shone down on
our perfectly manicured lawn as I pulled up on the driveway in my new
sports coupe. Oh yes, life was certainly much better now, my
previous, hand-to-mouth existence as a waitress almost completely
I kicked the big oak
front door open and rattled the keys on the side table as i made my
way into the house, my high heals clicking proudly on the solid wood
floor as I made into the kitchen. The house, as usual, was
immaculate. Our maid had done a bang-up job, as always, leaving me
with very little to do in terms of tidying or cleaning. It was a good
job, my nails would never stand for manual labor now, and my stomach
was flat and firm from personal training at fifty bucks an hour, not
waiting tables and walking up the stairs because the elevator was
I switched on the
espresso machine and started to put the groceries away, the kitchen
doors sliding open on their air-balanced hinges. Everything in this
house seemed to purr and glide. No banging of cupboards here to worry
There was something
though. A noise I hadn’t heard before. It seemed to be coming from
up in Peter’s bedroom.
Strange. There wasn’t
supposed to be anyone here at all, was there?
I kicked off my high
heels, picking one of them up and holding it by the toe, stiletto
downwards, an offensive weapon if ever there was one! I held it
upright as I walked up the stairs. Any burglar would get quite a
shock, an aggressive and toned MILF coming at him with a thousand
dollar pair of Jimmy Choos! As I made onto the landing I identified
the noise more clearly.