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When I got home, mom was out back wearing a yellow sundress, and hanging laundry to dry. It was almost a bucolic scene. It belied the horror that I had just visited on three men.
“Are you okay?” she asked after I got out of the truck and stood by the back door.
“Yeah I’m fine,” I answered nonchalantly as she passed me with her laundry basket on her way into the house.
“What have you got there?” She said referring to the bag of supplies I had taken from the store.
“Yeah, funny.” She chuckled at my little joke, “Are you hungry?”
“Yeah,” I said and I realized that I was.
“I’ll make you some pancakes, but you’ll have to settle for reheated coffee.”
“Okay,” I said as I threw the grocery bag on the table and sat down.
She busied herself in the kitchen and I watched her sashay around in that sundress. She gave me a cup of coffee and was waiting for the cast-iron pan to heat up, when she started to rustle through the bag.
“What’s this?” She asked holding up the velvet ribbon.
“I don’t know. I just started grabbing things.”
“And this?” she held up the K-Y. I just sat there looking guilty.
“You don’t give up.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” I tried to smile my way out of it.
“I know what this is for,” she said annoyed. “You’re not fucking me in the ass again Eddie.” She held the ribbon up in one hand and the K-Y in the other. “I guess you weren’t even going to ask my permission, were you?”
“Mom, I don’t know. I just grabbed things.”
“I don’t believe you. Being tied up and fucked in the ass might seem like fun to you, but not to me.” She was really getting pissed, but then she stopped. “Is that blood on your hand?”
“A little yeah.”
“You’re bleeding?” Her mood went from anger to concern.
“One of them snuck up on me and hit me while I wasn’t looking.”
“Hit you where?” She came around the table to see.
“On the side.”
“On the side where?”
“I’m okay Mom.” I tried to pull away from her fussing.
“Oh my God Ed. You are bleeding from the head.”
“I’m okay Mom.” I repeated.
“No you’re not. You’re bleeding from the head. Here I am yelling at you, and you almost got killed for me. What did he hit you with?”
“A bat! Oh my God. Let me clean it.”
She ran for a clean cloth and dampened it from the water jug we had by the sink. She came back and stuck her tits in my face as she cleaned the wound. I sat there reveling in her bosom, and I realized that she wasn’t wearing a bra, because I could feel her nipples through the dress.
I started to smell something and then I realized that she left the pan on the stove.
“Mom, I think that you’re burning down the house.”
“Oh shit, the stove,” she said and ran and took the pan off the burner. She then turned around and just looked at me. “You weren’t going to tell me you got hurt.”
“You didn’t ask.”
She walked over to the table and sat on the edge. “Come here,” she commanded. I got up and stood between her legs. I automatically put my hands on her thighs and hiked up her dress.
“Did you get them all?” she asked as she slid her hands inside of my t-shirt.
“Yes.” My dick was getting hard as she withdrew her hands, put them behind her neck, untied the halter top of her dress and let it drop; exposing her girls to me. She then picked up the spool of velvet ribbon off the table, and handed it to me.
“I’ve never been tied up before. How do you do it?”
“Forget it Mom,” I said dismissively.
She looked up at me demurely, and said in her sexiest voice. “Do it Ed. Tie me up.”
I hesitated at first, but then I stripped the ribbon off the spool. “Hold out your hands.” She did as I commanded, and I tied a knot around one of her wrists. I then wrapped the ribbon in a figure eight around both of her wrists a few times, and then tied it off again. The knot around her wrists was firm, but it wasn’t hurting her. I pulled the ribbon over her head, and as she lay down on the table, I walked around it and tied the ribbon to a table leg on the other end.
She was completely splayed out as I came back between her legs. Her breasts were heaving as she started to breathe heavy. I ran my hands back up her thighs, pushing her dress up as I went. When I got to her panties, I flipped her dress up and over. It only took a few seconds to reach in, grab her panties and strip them off; leaving her helpless and exposed.
My eyes went from her pussy lips to her nipples, as they rose and fell with her hard breathing, to her beautiful face, red lips, and then finally to the knot that was binding her wrists.
“You like this?” She said with her hands pulled tight above her head. Her breaths were deep and labored.
“You like that I’m so vulnerable?”
“Yes,” I said as I unbuttoned my shorts and dropped them and my boxers to the floor. She let out a gasp, as I grabbed her by the hips and pulled her closer to the end of the table. It pulled her bursa escort arms even tighter, and she was ripe for the taking.
Life fell into a pattern. Get up, work on the garden, and haul water; whatever needed to be done. Mom was right about the “heirloom” vegetables. They were not as pretty, but they were sturdier, more resistant to pests and weeds.
I was able to save at least half of grandma’s garden, and who knows how long those plants were neglected. I had to admit that I liked working with my hands. Farming was a hell of a lot more satisfying than negotiating some business deal.
Mom found a couple of rabbit nests in the meadow and, before long; we had a pen full of them. I never ate rabbit before, and it was weird at first, but who could complain about free meat? Besides, you didn’t have to kill a whole deer and have it go rancid before you had a chance to eat it all. Lack of refrigeration was definitely a hindrance.
I had a system for hauling water from the pond. I found an old trailer in someone’s garage and I loaded it with anything big that could hold water. I would go down to the pond in the early afternoon, because you don’t mind working in the heat of the day when you are waist deep in cool water.
It still had to be purified first to make it potable. So at night we filtered and then boiled water, until we went to bed. Mom kept complaining that there had to be a way to run the house’s well, but I wasn’t an electrician, so I was clueless.
On rainy days I would forage through all of the abandoned houses in the area, not only for food, but also for tools and anything else that we could possibly use. On those trips I would keep an eye out for any zombies, but I didn’t find any signs.
We were making love at least once a day. Whenever we felt like it, and mom always felt like it. I tried to be as loving and gentle as possible, and mom would let me satisfy my darker appetites once in a while.
It was a bucolic life, and I was actually happy. We even started to barter vegetables to John and Henry for fish. So we now had two sources of protein, but I was still looking for that T-bone.
Late one morning, after the last zombie incident, I was working in the garden and I spotted a motorcycle racing along the road. I squatted down behind some vegetation to hide, but the motorcycle slowed down and turned into our driveway.
The rider halted the bike after he got about a hundred feet up the drive and got off. I couldn’t see the make, but it looked like an American made bike. He took off his jacket and placed it on the bike. He also took something off his hip, which I assumed to be a pistol, and placed it inside of his jacket.
He then started the long walk up the driveway. I heard Al Shaba barking as she came back from wherever she was off to.
I stood up, found the mini, which was slung over a fence post, made my way out of the garden and out to the front of the house. That’s where we, Al Shaba and I, met him.
He was a white man with long light brown hair. He must have been in his forties, and he was ruggedly good handsome.
“Hello,” he said as he got to the top of the drive. Al Shaba didn’t approach him and I heard her growl under her breath.
“Hello,” I answered back.
“You always meet guests armed with a rifle?” He said referring to the Ruger, which I had cradled in my arms.
“When the “guest” is a stranger, who I saw take a gun off his hip, I do.”
“You are observant.”
“That’s debatable,” I said remembering the last two attacks.
“Does your dog bite?” He said referring to Al Shaba.
“I don’t own Al Shaba. She’s more of an accomplice.”
“Well, does your accomplice bite?”
“She hasn’t bitten me yet, but I feed her.”
“Are you always this confrontational?”
“Excuse me, but I have little manners for strangers who come unannounced.”
“Luke didn’t tell you that I was coming?”
“No, but I haven’t been on the radio for a few days.”
“I’m sorry, but I thought he told you I was coming. My name is Cassio. I am a friend of John and Henry.”
I lowered the muzzle of the mini. “John has mentioned you. He says you are a bit of a nomad.”
“That’s me. I never let the grass grow too high under my feet. Luke told me about you. He told me that you killed all of those zombies.”
“Oh yeah? What else has he mentioned?”
“That you live here with an incredibly beautiful woman. That’s why I came. I haven’t seen a young woman in a while, let alone an incredibly beautiful woman,” he repeated the phrase.
“He said that over the radio?”
“The thing about saying something over the air, as opposed to a phone, is that anybody can hear exactly what you are saying.”
A remorseful look came over his face. “You know we are on that thing so much, you tend to forget that it’s not a private conversation.”
“The thing that bothers me is you’re not the only one who has told me that Luke blabbered that over the air.”
We were at an impasse when I heard the front screen door open, and I turned around bursa escort bayan to see mom, dressed in that lovely yellow sundress, standing on the porch.
“Ed, aren’t you going to introduce me?”
Oh fuck, I thought.
“Oh shit!” I heard Cassio proclaim behind me.
I turned around again to see Cassio thunderstruck, as if he had seen the sunset for the first time in his life. Ah shit, I thought to myself.
“My name is Cassio, Miss,” he spouted right off before I could collect my thoughts. “I was told there was a beautiful woman here,” Cassio continued as he approached mom on the porch. “But beautiful does not do justice to the vision I see before me.”
Mom blushed. “You are very kind.” She tossed her hair as she came down the stairs to greet him. She was smitten. They were both smitten. It was as obvious as the fact that mom put that yellow dress on and brushed her hair before she came out the door. She was in jeans and a t-shirt earlier. My heart sank.
“I’m Jocasta; Josie for short.”
“That’s funny, I’m Cassio, but my friends call me Cass.”
“What a coincidence,” mom said as she flashed him a big smile. He was flirting with her, and my slut of a mom was flirting back, right in front of me.
She was laughing at all of his jokes, and I swear, if she flipped her hair one more time I was going to barf.
“I was just going to start lunch,” she tilted her head and looked at him out of the corners of her eyes. “Why don’t you stay?”
“Alas if only I could. I could think of no better company, but I promised some people that I would help them move some stuff.”
“Are you sure?” Mom sounded disappointed.
“Yeah, I’m already late now, maybe some other time.”
“How about tomorrow for dinner?”
“That sounds wonderful. Well it was great to meet you,” he said as he turned to shake my hand. “And it was a pleasure meeting you Josie,” he said as he took her hand and they both smiled at each other. I actually thought that he was going to kiss her hand. He turned and headed down the drive towards his bike.
“He rides a motorcycle too?” Mom said as he approached it.
“Yes, he’s wonderful isn’t he?”
“Yes…” mom said absentmindedly, and then noticing the tone of my voice, she looked at me. “What? He is very nice.”
“You were fawning over him so much it was nauseating.”
“I was not,” she said with a sneer. I didn’t answer. I just turned around and headed back to the garden. “I wasn’t!” She yelled after me, but I just kept walking.
The next day, late in the afternoon, I was coming back from the pond with a trailer full of water buckets, I saw Cassio pull up on his motorcycle. It was a nice day although still hot in the late afternoon.
I backed the trailer up to the back of the house by the door as I usually do, and when I got out of the truck he was pulling a couple of bottles of wine out of his saddle bags. He was wearing jeans and cowboy boots, but he had a collared shirt on.
“Hey,” he yelled to me holding the bottles over his head in triumph. “I hope you people like Merlot?”
“If it has alcohol in it, I like it,” I answered back with the best smile I had.
“I figured, get the one and a half liter bottles. Better to have too much than too little. Especially since they were on sale.”
I had to admit he was very likable, but he had a salesman-like personality that made me think it was all a show. I didn’t trust him and I figured the only reason he was here was to get in my mother’s pants. Unfortunately, I had a feeling that mom wanted to get in his pants also.
We walked into the back door together and mom was busy in the kitchen making a feast. She was dressed in shorts and a t-shirt and her hair was pulled up in a bun.
“You’re here already. Oh my God look at me. I’m not even ready,” she gushed.
“Josie, you look gorgeous,” Cass gushed back.
“Yeah, right.” I had a gleam of hope that maybe she was seeing through his act. “You look very handsome Cass.” But then my hopes were smashed.
“I brought some wine,” Cassio beamed.
“Oh I’d love a glass of wine. Ed, sweetheart, get us a couple of glasses from the cabinet.”
Now I know a “couple” was just an expression, but it grated on me that she would put it that way. Almost like she only wanted two glasses and that I should get lost. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to make a scene, but I had to admit it, I was actually a little jealous.
I got the glasses and a corkscrew and Cass poured all three of us a glass.
“Why don’t you guys go out on the porch and I’ll go upstairs and get ready,” mom said as she quickly finished her glass of wine. “Here,” she handed me a platter full of food. “You can nosh on these.”
“Nosh?” Cassio asked.
“It’s a Jewish term.” Mom answered.
“Lebanese, Greek Orthodox.” Mom said proudly.
“I don’t get it?” Cassio said perplexed.
“We’re from Long Island,” I explained. “On Long Island everyone speaks Jewish,” I exaggerated. “Don’t be a schmuck, have the pastrami.” But Cassio escort bursa still didn’t get it.
I led the way out to the porch and mom went upstairs. I thought I caught out of the corner of my eye Cass watching mom as she walked up the stairs. His lack of discretion annoyed me.
The porch was heaven this time of the day. It was facing east so you were out of the afternoon sun. The light shone from behind you on to the meadows that used to be grandma’s front lawn. Across the roadway was a young forest.
The regular grass only got a couple of feet high, but off to the south was a spring where tall marsh grass and cattails grew. As I put the platter down on a wooden folding table that we had out on the porch, I looked up to see a red winged blackbird perching on a cattail.
“It’s really nice out here,” Cassio said.
“Yeah, I like to sit here after the day is done. I just wish that I had a cold beer.”
“You can still find plenty of beer around,” Cass stated.
“Yeah, but I have no way of getting it cold.”
“You don’t have a refrigerator?”
“You don’t have a generator?”
“That’s silly. I can get you one tomorrow.”
“Yeah, the house I lived in last month, or maybe it was two months ago, had a nice one. I think it is about 6,000 watts. You’d a paid a thousand dollars for it a year ago.”
“It will power the fridge?”
“And some. Let me ask you, is that why you were haulin’ all of that water before, because you don’t have electric to power the well?”
“Yeah, but that’s hard-wired in. It’s not like you can plug that it to an outlet.”
“Oh I think that I can jury rig something. You might want to still haul water for your garden though. It takes a lot of gas to pump that much water. Still, you’ll have enough water for you and Josie. And you can have a cold beer on the porch.”
With that, mom came out of the house. She looked stunning. She was wearing this outfit that I had seen on her last summer. It looked like she was wearing a tan colored strapless bustier over matching shorts, but it was really one piece. It was what women call a romper, and she looked elegant with her dark hair down.
“My God Josie, you look even more gorgeous than before.” Cassio looked stunned.
“You look great Josie,” I said.
“Why thank you guys. What were you talking about while I was upstairs; me?”
“No electricity,” I said amused.
“Electricity?” She asked as she placed her empty wine glass down for refilling. “Can you get us some Cass?”
“Cassio thinks that he can get us a generator,” I answered for him while he filled up mom’s glass.
“And we can have a refrigerator?” She asked.
“And running water.” Cassio stated proudly.
“See Ed?” She turned to lecture me. “I told you it was possible.”
“I was a business lawyer, not an electrician.”
“You were a lawyer, Ed? You don’t look like a lawyer.”
“I’ve been told that before, but most people lived to regret it.”
“I bet they have. You have a certain air about you Ed. I can tell that you are driven. Lord knows your reputation is already huge around here.”
“My reputation for what?”
“Let’s just say that no one would fuck with you.”
“You mean because of the zombies?”
“I was only protecting Josie.”
“Don’t take it wrong. A lot of people are indebted to you. You did what had to be done, and what they couldn’t or wouldn’t do.”
“Let’s have some more wine guys and enjoy this beautiful evening.” Mom changed the subject.
“Right.” Cassio understood and started to pour the wine. “So Josie, you are Lebanese?”
“Yes.” She smiled proud of her heritage.
“And I assume, from your accent, that you were born there.”
“Yes I moved to the States when I was eighteen.”
“It’s amazing how educated you are; how well spoken.” Uh oh, I thought. He is treading on shaky ground.
“What do you mean?” Mom said tersely.
“It’s just that you are an Arab.” And there he did it.
“Why, because the Arabs are a little people, a silly people? Greedy, barbarous and cruel?”
“What?” Cassio said taken aback.
“She’s quoting from her favorite movie.” I said, and Cassio shot me a quizzical look.
“Lawrence of Arabia.” I expanded.
“Did you know Cassio,” mom went on. “In the Arab city of Cordoba, there were two miles of public lighting in the streets, five hundred years before Columbus was born.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to offend you. But isn’t there a law against educating women?”
“I’m not Muslim, Cass.” Mom softened up. “I’m a Christian, and I was sent by my father to attend the American University in Beirut. My father believed in education; even for a woman.”
“Your father was a wise man.”
“My father was a character. He was a student of the Greeks.” Mom laughed and put down her glass for another refill. “He thought because we were Greek Orthodox that somehow we had Greek heritage. That’s where my name Jocasta comes from. It’s Greek.” Cassio filled her glass again and just sat back mesmerized by my mother.
“He taught me, himself, when I was a young girl. I knew more about Greek culture and philosophy at twelve than most men know in a lifetime. And that includes Greek men.”
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