Installment #30
Him
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 almost completely nude, 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’d seen his mother turn her full
gaze on him. She had dark sultry eyes. Meg’s were blue.
Mother’s 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 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 everything 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
Parker 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 he found
his release in Meg Parker.
Him
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 almost completely nude, 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’d seen his mother turn her full
gaze on him. She had dark sultry eyes. Meg’s were blue.
Mother’s 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 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 everything 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
Parker 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 he found
his release in Meg Parker.
