Marshall Purcell swirled his drink as he crossed the room to his recliner. He picked up the remote and switched the television to Channel 9 news. He sat the drink on the table beside his chair and went into the bathroom, pulling his tie loose as he walked. He hung the tie over the chair and as he removed his clothing, he hung each item on it’s own hanger. When he was completely nude except for his boxers, he hung the hangers on the hook on the back of the door. The tie was the last item to be placed there and it went around the collar of his shirt. Just like it belonged.
He stood in just his boxer shorts in front of the full length mirror. Slowly he lowered the underwear to the floor and stepped out of it. He gazed at himself in the reflection. He was not a bad looking man, other than the scar on his face. His body was lean and hard. He turned sideways. Well, a little paunch, maybe. Ok, a definite paunch. And maybe lean and hard was not the way to describe his body. He had an office job, for crying out loud. How was he supposed to build muscles setting at a desk all day long? Surely Meg could overlook a little thing like that. He thought of Meg and how she looked jogging in her shorts. She had long legs and moved with a grace few women possessed.
His eyes went to his manhood. It hung helplessly down and showed no signs of life. That was better. Damn thing better remember who was boss around here. He pictured Meg setting on her patio with the dogs at her feet reading a book. He had been in her home and he knew the kind of books she read. Historical novels. Romances. His mother had read True Confessions and Modern Romance. He thought of his mother laying on the couch reading her magazines, her legs extended; one over the back of the couch and the other foot resting on the arm at the end of the couch. He seen his mother turn her full gaze on him. She had dark sultry eyes. Meg’s were blue. Her skin was very white. Meg’s was tanned from the sun. Mother’s hair was black. Meg’s was light brown.
Mother smiled at him and laid her magazine down. “Come here, Marshall. Rub Mother’s shoulders. I am so tight there.” She sat up and turned her back to him. He swallowed a lump in his throat and reached for her shoulders. He began to knead the muscles that attached to her neck.
“Yes, mother, you are tight. I can feel it.” She unbuttoned her shirt and pushed her blouse back so he could work her muscles on her lower neck. Marshall stared at her smooth back. His fingers worked the muscles and he could feel her loosen under his touch. She turned and looked sideways at him as she fluttered her long eyelashes.
“You are such a good son, Marshall. I love you so much. Do you remember when you came in the kitchen and the neighbor man was here?” Marshall could only nod his head yes. The lump in his throat threatened to choke him. “Do you know what we were doing?” This time he nodded no. “Would you like Mother to show you?”
It took every thing in Marshall Purcell’s being to slam the door shut on that memory! That was a door that must never be opened. That was the one memory he must never let out again. He did not need to look down to know what was going on down below. He grabbed his pajama’s and quickly covered himself. Then he went to his recliner and sat down and grabbed his drink. He drained the glass quickly and then pushed himself to the reclining position and closed his eyes tightly.
He pictured Meg Paker jogging. He pictured her alone in the Sheraton. He willed himself to look at her body. Her naked body! She could save him! She must save him from his mother. That had been so wrong. So very evil. He had hated his mother after that day more then ever before. He had hated her, but he had gone back again and again. Like an addict. But now, it was just him and Meg.
Meg would make him forget. Meg was his salvation.
He forced himself to picture Meg as he reached inside his pajama’s and brought out the object that had offended him so many times. If he could get through the next few moments with Meg in his vision and not see mother, he would not need to castrate himself. So he gritted his teeth and pictured only Meg. He pictured her naked and spread before him and he licked his lips as, finally, he found his release in Meg Paker.
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