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Kiss It Better



By Alice B. Handcock



(c) Alice B. Handcock

This 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 consent.


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I hated it when my boy got upset.

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 be ok.

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 Century America.


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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 us together.

Literally.

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!


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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 forgotten.

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 bust. Again!

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 my senses.

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.


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