Chapter 11
Sonja was still furiously straightening up the house when she heard Charlene's car brake to a stop out front.
"The place is still a shambles. Thank God the cleaning lady comes tomorrow," she muttered aloud.
No sooner had Charlene entered the house than Sonja sprang like a tigress. "So! You finally decided to come home! I've never been so humiliated in my life!"
Charlene leaned back against the front door with exhaustion. "If I had the strength, I should be the one screaming, Mother."
"You ungrateful brat! That party was in your honor. And you walked out."
"I'm sure I was never missed, Mother! Everyone was so loaded they hardly noticed me when I came in. On top of that, I talked to nearly everyone before I left. Can't you understand that I have a large part in an important picture and I can't party all night long and then do my job properly the next day?"
"Stop pampering yourself. One night doesn't hurt. You're young and strong."
Charlene, wanting very much to drop the subject, shifted tactics and asked, "Where's Jon?"
"He's playing tennis."
Charlene flared up. "Oh, I see. The two of you sleep most of the day away, and then Jon's got enough energy to go tennis-playing in the middle of the night. But I was supposed to stay up helping to entertain a bunch of lushes and then go to work this morning!"
"You wouldn't even have the Goddamned part if it wasn't for me!" Sonja screamed.
"Oh, really?" Charlene questioned with quiet iciness. "Just exactly how did you come to that farfetched conclusion?"
"Who the hell got you started? Who planned your career? Who taught you tricks of the trade? ME! Me! Your mother!" Sonja's voice was now screeching. Charlene closed her eyes a moment. Then she said, "Tell me, Mother dear, do you think I would have gotten anywhere if I hadn't been good?"
"We're not talking about that. We're talking about getting you started. And I got you started."
"And now it's up to me to keep on going. That's the hard part. That's where the work comes in, Mother. I'm sorry you're angry about last night. To tell you the truth, so was I. I couldn't figure out how anybody could be so selfish as to have a drunken brawl on a work night. Christ, I wasn't even able to get into my bathroom without pulling out a passed-out broad first, or my own bed without bumping into a fuck scene. It was more important for you to show me off than to let me get my much needed rest. I don't call that helping."
"You don't have to act like a little shit!" Sonja spat.
"And you don't always have to resort to name-calling," Charlene snapped back. "Now you sound superior, just like your fucking father!"
Charlene swept past her mother and on up to her bedroom, but Sonja was on her heels. Randomly Charlene threw clean clothes into a suitcase.
"And just where the hell do you think you're going?" Sonja demanded.
"Well, Mother dear, I'm not going to stay around and listen to this. I know you when you get wound up. I'm tired and I'm hungry." She crashed the lid down on the luggage and snapped the clasp. Then she pounded down the stairs, heading for the front door.
"You can't leave. You're a minor."
But Charlene was already out the door. "That's the funniest remark you've ever made, Mother," she shot back as she slipped into her car.
Charlene was already in motion when Sonja screamed, "Come back! Charlene. I demand that you come back! Do you hear me? Come back!"
Sonja, stark realization finally setting in, sank against the door jamb. "Oh, God, what have I done?" she gasped to herself between sobs. She remained in her stricken state for long minutes, and then made her way back into the house where she sank to the floor.
Sonja had just regained her composure and was in the process of pulling herself together when the doorbell rang.
She jumped to answer hoping, praying, it might be Charlene.
"Hello, Mrs. uh Sonja." Young Tom quickly remembered that Charlene's mother always wanted her friends to call her by her first name. "Is Charlene here?"
Sonja pulled Tom into the house and fell against his lanky frame in a new torrent of sobs.
"Oh, Tom," she cried. "I just had a terrible fight with Charlene. It was my fault, I should've been more understanding. She's so young and has so much responsibility all of a sudden."
Tom stood bewildered with this usually strong woman, now broken, clinging to him.
"What happened?" he managed.
But her sobs still overpowered her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck. Tom could feel her firm full breasts pressed against him and the heaves in her chest as the sobs continued.
Tom felt awkward. He took her by the waist and tried to guide her. "Let's go sit down in the living room. Try to tell me all about it."
Sonja allowed herself to be led to the couch, where she sank down on a green velvet cushion.
"There you are," he soothed. "Try to calm down. Can I fix you a drink? Maybe that'll help."
Sonja took a deep breath and in between gasps she nodded.
Tom went to the portable bar. "What'll you have?"
"I've been drinking martinis. But maybe that's the trouble. There's some brandy down there. A shot of brandy in a snifter glass that should help." Tom accommodated her.
As he handed her the glass, Sonja seemed to recover somewhat. "Oh, Tom, fix something for yourself, too. Forgive me for being such a bad hostess."
"Don't worry about me. I don't drink much. Just a beer now and then." Sonja jumped up. "I'll get you one from the fridge."
"Oh, don't bother." But she was already out of the room.
When she returned quite a few minutes later her hair was combed and her mascara no longer streaked. She was a different person tall, poised, her own mistress once more.
Tom blinked. "You feel better?"
"Much. Here." She handed him the beer. "I'm sorry I lost control, Tom."
"Gosh, don't think anything of it. Happens to us all sometimes."
She sat down on the couch close to him. "You're a nice boy, Tom," she said stroking him on the cheek. "I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't come along to comfort me." He blushed. "Gee, Sonja, I haven't done anything."
"Just having you here, you're a nice, big, strong boy, is very comforting." She leaned her head against his chest.
He awkwardly put his arm around her and patted her on the shoulder.
"Oh, Tom, I don't know what I would have done without you," she cried. "Here, let me thank you in my own special way." With that, Sonja threw both arms around his neck and planted a passionate kiss on his mouth.
He was surprised, but not too surprised to respond to her warm, full lips.
She let her hand move from his waist on down to his jeans, where she casually brushed by the fatness at his crotch. When she found what he had there, she went back for a firmer touch. He flinched in embarrassment. "I made a mistake," she said softly, still caressing the bursting jeans. Tom gulped. "What d'you mean?"
"You're not a boy. You're a man."
This time Sonja allowed her hand to linger a bit more, though she knew better than to scare the young man away with too overt a move. Rather, she permitted her light fingers to trickle up and down the underside of his turgid penis, which was lying on his belly, pointed upward.
"Oh, Mrs. I mean, Sonja. You shouldn't be doing that."
"I know, Tom, I know. But it feels so big and nice, I can hardly help myself. You don't really mind, do you?"
"But if anyone ever found out... "
"Like who?"
"Well, Charlene. She'd never talk to me again."
"Don't mention her to me just now, Tom. I'm still furious with her. Besides, I'd have to be nuts to tell my own daughter that I fondled your prick for you."
"What!"
"Prick is what I said, Tom. Does that surprise you?"
"Well, I guess not, now that I think about it... but I've never heard a woman say that before." Even as he uttered this last, Tom was relaxing his frame, allowing his body to slide down farther into the sofa. It was an involuntary act, and Tom's other reactions indicated he was still very apprehensive about the whole situation, though his apprehension was fast giving way to another response. His balls were beginning to feel liquidly hot and a trembling shudder shook his body.
Sonja sensed that the time was correct for her next play.
"Tom," she began, "is it all right if I ask you a personal question?"
"I... suppose so," he stammered.
"Well, this might seem like an odd thing to ask, since you're such a good-looking boy and since so many females must have already put the make on you, but, tell me, have you ever fucked a grown woman with this thing?"
Tom didn't answer immediately, so Sonja went on, "Well, if that's too personal a question, let me ask this has it ever been sucked real good?"
Again, Tom just looked at her, only half aware of the conversation his trembling penis on the verge of geysering.
"No... " he replied, almost meekly.
"Are you trying to tell me that you've never had the exquisite experience of shooting a good hot load into someone's mouth?"
"Jesus... "
"No girl, no woman... no man?"
Again the boy could do nothing but stare, still very aware of the soft, tendrilly probes of Sonja's fingers.
"Well, we'll have to do something about that right now, Tom," Sonja added, and without further toying reached down and unzipped the waiting fly.
She gazed in awe at the large, firm protrusion. "I think it's wonderful the way you young men never wear underwear under your jeans." She began caressing the bare young manhood as she spoke. "Just nature's children ready for the natural act... "
"Oh, Sonja," Tom gasped out in short breaths, "if you keep doing that... "
"Oh, I'm going to do much more than that, dear Tom." She began tugging at his jeans until she got them down below his knees, then started to lean over to take his swelling into her mouth. She stopped short and looked up at him. "You're going to love this, Tom. I just hope I don't ruin you for others."
Tom's eyes closed and he moaned deeply as Sonja's tongue flicked and licked and then swallowed up his entire penis.
Neither of them heard the front door open. Charlene, after munching on a hamburger at a local drive-in, had begun to feel guilty about her peremptory behavior toward her mother. She knew that Sonja, once the rage was out of her system, would forget the whole incident and that life would then go on as before. Charlene had come back to make amends, but now she stood looking at her young boy friend entwined with her mother. She could not stifle an involuntary gasp.
Tom and Sonja both looked up.
"Baby... " Sonja started, obviously taken by surprise.
"Don't you baby me!" Charlene snapped. "I came back because I felt so bad about leaving you all upset.
Upset! Ha!"
With that she stamped to the door.
"Charlene, let me explain," Tom said, standing up. But he forgot his jeans were around his ankles and he tripped and fell when he tried to move toward her. The door slammed and they were alone again.
"Don't worry about her. She'll get over it," Sonja said smoothly, by now recovered. She knelt on the floor beside Tom and took his penis in her hand, pumping it back and forth. "Youth is wonderful you hardly lost any firmness." Then, without further ceremony, she lifted her long hostess skirt and straddled the young boy who was still strapped on the floor, jeans constricting his ankles.
"You're my prisoner until I choose to let you free," she cooed sexily in his ear.
But she was wrong. She had momentarily forgotten that young men sometimes experience lack of control. So after she had pistoned up and down on his turgid manhood a few times, he suddenly gushed into her as if his penis were a giant syringe.
But Sonja wasn't really very concerned, for he was young, and so was the evening.
"How could she be so crass?" Charlene asked. She and Sid Morris were sitting in his private study, sipping liqueur. His wife had gone to bed earlier with a headache, so they knew they wouldn't be disturbed.
"Now, don't be too harsh with your mother, Charlene. Remember, she's been sharing her boy friend with you, so she probably feels that turnabout's fair play."
"It isn't that so much as how easily she's consoled. She was sobbing, almost hysterical then suddenly somebody puts a cock in her mouth and she's as happy as a baby with a pacifier."
"Well, I guess that's about the size of it. But that's Sonja and you must learn to accept her as she is. However, it's going to be even more difficult for her to realize that you're a separate person too, and not just a carbon copy of her. She is going to have to learn and understand that her ambitions are not necessarily your ambitions. That's why she was so unhappy and ashamed about your leaving the party she had realized her ambition through you and then when you didn't allow her to bask in the limelight with you, she felt cheated."
"Everything is so clear when you explain it to me, Daddy M.," Charlene said. "Maybe you ought to talk to Mom for me."
"No. Sonja is more instinctive than mental. She'll realize these things and come to terms with herself better if we just let her work them out for herself."
"Do you know what Mom's last brainstorm was two days before the picture started? She said my thirty-five-hundred-dollar sports car wouldn't be good enough for a successful star. I must turn it in as soon as possible for a super-German model with super-American payments. Honest to God, Daddy M., I'm sick of it. I'm not quite seventeen and already I'm working my ass off to meet payments. I panic to think what will happen if my contract isn't picked up, what with my present car and mink payments. I know what the next thing would be if I let her talk me into the car. Can you guess?"
Mr. M. simply shook his head as he lit a cigar. He puffed and leaned back, listening.
"I've already gotten hints of it. 'This isn't much of a house for a movie star,' she's said a million times.
That's the soft sell."
"Charlene, try to understand. Possessions the newer and more expensive the better are important to Sonja. She just wants you to have early what she had to wait for."
"What I'd like is a little peace of mind. I love that house. I like my little car, and the way things turned out, I can afford it. But I need that full-length mink like I need another head. I do like up-to-date clothes of which I have plenty right now but that's not much of an extravagance. But what I'm getting at is this: is it all worth it? Accepting all the Hersheys and worse yet, the Rotheimers in order to have material possessions? It's such a vicious circle."
"I've tried to tell you, baby, that you would have made it in any event. I tried to tell you that last night. It might have taken a little longer, but you'd have made it."
"You mean, from now on I should tell Rotheimer to go f... no, suck himself off?"
"Absolutely. I wouldn't put it quite like that, though." He put his cigar down in the large ashtray. "Come sit on my lap, baby."
She smiled and did as he asked, but it was not really the same act as it would have been with the movie mogul. It was of her own free will that she sat on his lap. She even squirmed cooperatively as he put his hand up underneath her short skirt. Soon his finger found its way into her slippery slit. "Oh, Daddy M., that feels so good."
"It sure does. Does baby want me to take her upstairs and tuck her in so she can tell Daddy a bedtime story?"
"Oh, yes, let's go."
"Tell me the one about the first time you sucked old Rotheimer off under the desk and the secretary came in for dictation," he said, as he led her up the stairs.