Cleaning House

"Sounds good, Mom," he said as he placed his lunch plate in the sink and his empty soda can in the trash. He contemptuously eyed his father, who was already sitting at the table. James eyed him just the same. "What?" Jim asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question."

Jim walked to his mother. "Do you need help with anything?"

"Thank you for asking, but no. I'm fine."

"So, what? Since I didn't ask that makes me a bad person?" James spat.

"Nobody said anything to you," Jim countered as he turned to face his father.

James continued to eye his son, but he didn't say anything more.

Jim turned back, then said, "Here. At least allow me to set the table for you."

"God-damned kiss-ass pussy-ass son of a bitch!" James yelled, then got up and went to the living room. He fell into his recliner and turned on the TV.

"Well," Sharon said. "That's one less problem to worry about."

Sharon visited Jim at midnight. He was still awake, which saddened her in a small way because she wanted to awaken him by softly sucking his cock. He was awake, though, and that's all that mattered. Without a word, she turned off the light and undressed even as he placed his text books on the floor and removed his T-shirt and underwear. She climbed atop him and softly impaled herself onto his already hard cock. She squealed the tiniest of bits as he entered her, then her lips found his. They made love in silence, the only sound to be heard brought on by their tender kisses.

Sharon had an orgasm, then another. Fifteen minutes later, Jim told her he was about to cum. "It's okay to cum in me," she told him. He pulled her lips close again as he did, and she did as well. She continued to stay atop him. "I love you," she whispered.

"I love you, too. So much that it hurts."

There was silence, about fifteen minutes worth as she continued to lay atop her son, her head

resting on his strong chest. Finally, she said, "I just want to assure you that even if this intervention leads to your father drying out, I am no longer his. My heart belongs to you now."

"Oh, Mom," Jim said as he enveloped her in his arms. His cock easily found its way back inside her, and they made love yet again.

Later that day, Jim took his last two finals. He knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he had aced them, so he was looking at another semester of making the Dean's list. He arrived home to find his mother waving good-bye to Mr. Walton and a man wearing a cleric's uniform. He gave her a light peck on the lips as he made to walk past her and into the house, but, "Jim! You can't do that in public."

"Do what?" he asked innocently.

"Kiss me on the lips," she said as she closed the door behind them.

"No, I didn't," he said with a small laugh.

"Jim, you literally just kissed me on the mouth before walking through the door. Are you telling me that you don't even recall doing that?"

He thought about it. "Mom. I did. I'm so sorry. I just ..."

"What?"

"I guess it's just the idea of me coming home to you ..." he offered.

Sharon stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I'll make a deal with you. If you can wait until you get inside, then I'll have one of these waiting for you." She drew him close and kissed him tenderly for all of a minute. When she drew back,

"Wow!"

Sharon slid a hand between his legs to find he was hard. "Am I the reason for that?" Without awaiting a reply, she dropped to her knees and pulled his shorts and underwear down, then she took him into her mouth.

"Oh, shit," Jim said as his legs buckled.

Sharon spent all of two minutes on him, removing her panties as she did so, then she turned and got on all fours. She lifted her skirt as she said, "Fuck me, Jim. Right here. Fuck me good."

As Jim removed his shirt and stepped out of his shorts and undies, he remembered Friday when she told him to fuck her, and he remembered Saturday and last night when they made sweet love. He knew the difference, and she wanted to be fucked again, like before. He dropped to his knees and drove his turgid cock deep inside her.

"Oh, my fucking god!" Sharon growled. She felt every hard thrust of her son's cock into her

vagina, heard every slap as their skin met, and reveled in the squishy noises brought on by Jim's dick as it slid in and out of her cum-soaked pussy. Oh, shit!" she yelled as she came again.

Jim was unrelenting. He fucked his mother for everything he was worth. Even when she came, he continued to pound her pussy as hard and fast as he could. He gave little care to him coming. He knew he could stay hard and fuck her till his dad came home.

"Fuck. Here's another one," Sharon yelped, and Jim could feel her pussy clamp around his cock, but he kept on thrusting just the same. He lay her on her side, but he stayed upright as he continued to fuck her. He felt himself go another inch into her. "Oh shit, baby. Just like that. Just like that. You're going to make my pussy cum all over your dick." He hit it as hard and fast and deep as he could. Sweat was pouring off him. He didn't give a shit. All that mattered at the moment was his cock and his mother's pussy. "Oh, my God!!!!!" It was the highest pitched squeal he had ever heard come from her, and it drove him on. "Fuckme-fuckme-fuckme-fuckme-fuckme. Oh, baby. Fuck me. Fuck me till you cum inside my pussy. Fuck my pussy with your fucking fucked up dick till you come deep inside me."

"OH SHIT!!!" Jim screamed, then "UNH! UNH! UNH! UNH! UNH!" One for each time he spurted inside her. He collapsed, sweaty and out of breath. She had fallen over as well.

The mail slot opened and varying sized envelopes came pouring through. Ten seconds later, it opened again, and a small note fluttered to the floor. Jim snatched it up and read, "Best thing that's happened to me all month. Thanks." He and Sharon laughed.

When James arrived home later that evening, he was taken aback by the small group of people in his living room. There was Sharon and Jim, Mr. Walton, his priest Rev. DeAngelo, and the good reverend's wife, also named Sharon. "What the hell is this?" he asked as he made his way to the fridge. He returned with a beer in his hand.

"James ... May I call you James?" Rev. DeAngelo asked.

"Whatever," James said as he reached for the remote.

"James, we're all gathered here today because your family is concerned about your drinking. Mr. Walton is concerned as well, considering what happened to the shrubbery."

James put the remote down and looked at the priest. "And why are you here?"

"I can offer you some help in dealing with your alcoholism," Rev DeAngelo said. "Our church has partnered with many organizations that assist people with alcoholism. Together, we can help you battle this demon and put you onto the path of righteousness. All you have to do is admit you have a problem and ask God into your heart."

James looked at him. "You'd really do that for me?"

"All it takes is that first step, James. Will you take it? I promise you won't be alone."

James looked at the bottle of beer in his hand, then at Rev. DeAngelo, then at his wife and son. He guzzled down half the contents of the beer, then said, as he pointed to each person in the room, "Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you and your god, and even though I don't know who the fuck you are, fuck you." That last one was directed at the good reverend's wife. "Now get the fuck out of my house. All of you. You, too," he said as he pointed at Sharon and Jim. "Nerve of y'all, trying to tag-team me like that."

They left en masse. Once outside, Sharon apologized for her husband's behavior. "Not much can be done about it," Rev DeAngelo said. "He has to come to it willingly."

They talked a little longer, then the three guests left. Sharon and Jim decided that this would be a good night to out for pizza. Since Sharon's purse was in the house, and Jim had his wallet and keys on him, they took his vehicle and it was his treat.

Things went as well as they could over the next couple of weeks. For the most part, James was an apparition who gained physical form only when it was time to eat. Other than that, neither Sharon nor Jim paid him any attention.

One particular night James went on a bender. He brought home another fifth of booze and decided that was all he needed for dinner. As he watched a soft porn movie on Skinamax, he pointed to one of the women and said to Sharon, who happened to be passing by, "If you looked that hot, I'd fuck you every single day."

"Who are you kidding?" she asked with a snort. "You couldn't bring that limp thing back to life even if Jesus Christ Himself was there to resurrect it from the dead."

Jim was in his room. He had just finished his shower and pulled up his shorts when he heard his mother scream out. He raced down the stairs and saw her on the floor, a hand against the side of her face. He looked at his father, then tackled him. He hit him with every ounce of strength he had. The first one knocked him out, but Jim continued. He punched his dad until he heard a bone break, and he honestly didn't know if it was his dad's jaw or his own hand.

"Jim, please," Sharon called through tears as she tried to pull her son from her husband. "Stop. You're going to kill him."

Jim looked at her, at the red, swollen patch on the side of her face. "What happened?" She told him. He suddenly became aware of the sharp pain in his hand. It was swollen. Yep. He broke it. He looked down at his dad, whose face was swollen as well. "Mom, I think we need to get to the emergency room."

Jim's hand was placed in a cast. James was kept overnight for observation due to the concussion he had suffered. The cop filling out the incident report told Sharon that someone had to go to jail over this, and she readily offered up her husband once he had been medically cleared. "I just

hope he can now get the help he needs."

Upon arriving home, Sharon paid Mr. Walton a visit. She told him what had happened and asked if Rev. DeAngelo could attempt to speak with James again before he went to jail. Mr. Walton assured her that they would do everything they could do to help.

James spent two days in the hospital, then a night at the city lock-up. Rev. DeAngelo assured James that he had spoken to his employer, who had granted James time off to deal with his alcoholism. He further agreed to bail James out if he agreed to go into rehab. Reluctantly, he did.

James was gone for a full two weeks. Rev. DeAngelo called Sharon and asked if James could be allowed back in the house. He assured her that James had been sober these past two weeks and he was working on becoming a better man. Sharon agreed with the proviso that no ill feelings between James and Jim exist.

James and Rev. DeAngelo arrived in time for dinner. Sharon had to admit that her husband looked good. Well, better. Years of abuse had already taken their toll. They gathered around the table and James prayed. It was quite the unique happening, but Sharon and Jim said nothing while Rev. DeAngelo praised James for such great supplications to the Most High and Almighty.

The first couple of minutes of the meal were eaten in silence, then James said, "Jim, I want you to know that I am sorry for letting you down. That day at the shed? You were right. I stopped being a father to you a long time ago. Not only did I give up on myself, but I gave up on being the one thing you needed most, and I deeply apologize for that."

Jim slowly looked up at James, raised a curious eyebrow, gave a small, sarcastic laugh, then returned to his meal.

James turned to Rev. DeAngelo, who said, "I understand that it is difficult to simply put the past behind you, Jim, and your father isn't asking that of you. He simply wants the opportunity to show you he has changed and to hopefully become a guiding influence in your life once again."

Jim raised his cast-covered hand in the air and made a cross, then returned to his meal.

More silence, then James said to his wife, "Sharon, I failed you as a husband. I ..." He looked at Rev. DeAngelo, who said,

"It's okay, James. Tell her."

James looked back at his estranged wife and began to weep as he said, "I cheated on you, Sharon. I was so wracked with guilt and pain that I began drinking to mask it. My impotence was never due to the alcohol, but to the fact that I couldn't live with myself knowing that I had thrown away all the trust you had placed in me. I've treated you poorly, I've berated you, I've belittled you, and God forgive me, I put my hands on you. I know a simple apology will not make all that go away, but I just want you to know that I truly am sorry, and I hope that one day you can find it in your heart to forgive me."

Sharon had stopped eating when James first spoke. She had given him her full attention. She had

listened to everything he had to say, analyzed it, and retorted with, "These last fourteen years with you have been hell, James. I have tolerated you not out of love, but devotion to the notion of 'Till death do us part.' You will never know how many times I cried myself to sleep simply because you were already drunk and passed out. I forgive you for cheating on me, and I forgive you for every wrong you have ever committed against me. This does not exonerate you, though. It has taken us fourteen years to reach this point. I'm not saying it will take fourteen years to move past it, but you need to understand that it's not something that's going to happen overnight. You've stopped drinking. I applaud you for that. You've found religion. If it's working for you, then I support you in it." She took a deep breath, then finished with, "You're welcome to move back in, but I'm not ready to be your wife again. As you said, you abused my trust, and I simply do not know what you can do or how long it will take to earn it back."

"Thank you," James said, then he returned to his meal.

"I think we all can agree that this was an uncomfortable but necessary first step on the road to recovery," Rev. DeAngelo said. "While we're here, is there anything anyone would like to add?"

"Are you serving in the role of a mediator?" Sharon asked.

"More that of a facilitator," he replied. "I hope to make James's transition back home as worry-free as possible, and if I can help you or James, Jr. with—"

"Jim."

"Excuse me?" the reverend said.

"I go by Jim, not James, Jr."

"Of course. My apologies. Now, as I was saying, if I can help everyone here with this, then I will avail myself to do so."

"There are ground rules to you moving back in, James," Sharon said. "First, you will take up residence in the guest bedroom. Second, you will take all meals here at the table. Third, there will be no more animosity between you and Jim. Fourth, I will be going back to college in the fall. Finally, if I find out that you have started back drinking, I'm not going to call Rev. DeAngelo, I'm simply going to put you out. If you can agree to these terms, then you are welcome to move back in."

"I understand completely," James said. "I agree, and I promise that I will not let you down, Sharon. You either, Jim."

This occurred in late May. By early August, James had proven to be a man of his word, and he was slowly earning back both Sharon and Jim's trust. This did not deter the two from making love every chance they got. In fact, they were meeting for one tryst or another on a daily basis. They had to cut out any physical contact on weekends, though. With James now sober, they couldn't rely on him sleeping long enough during the day to afford them any time together. They did have Sundays while James was at church, though, and that helped soothe their lusty appetites for each other.

Fall Semester had begun, and Sharon couldn't be happier now that she was back in college. She had acquired her CNA early in her marriage, and now she was going for her LPN, fully knowing that RN was not out of the question.

Sharon and Jim would meet for lunch every day—they had picked their classes carefully to ensure this—and what started out as a joke soon became something more. One day, when asked who she was, Sharon said, "Swanson. I'm Jim's wife." From there, they took it to heart.

One day, while eating lunch, someone from Jim's past approached his and Sharon's table. "Jim? Jim Swanson?"

"Well, lookie here," James said upon recognizing her. "Marcie Brown."

"Do I get a hug?" Marcie asked.

"Nah, I don't think so."

"Jim," Sharon said. "Show some manners."

"This is Marcie Brown," Jim told his mother. "We dated for a few weeks in high school."

"Oh, that Marcie Brown," Sharon said as recollection of the name came to her. "The one who broke up with you the day after prom." She smiled, then kissed Jim flush on the mouth. "You should have held onto this one, Marcie. He's something else."

She just stood there, paralyzed in an uncomfortable silence. She finally said, "Oh. Um, well, nice to see you again," then she turned to leave.

"Well, hold on," Jim said. "You went to Vanderbilt. What happened?"

She sighed heavily. "I partied too much. I was put on academic probation twice, and finally I lost my scholarship."

"Wow. Sorry to hear that, Marcie," Jim said.

"It's my own fault," she replied. "I have to deal with the consequences." More silence, then, "I'm sorry I dumped you like I did, Jim. That was wrong of me. You were a decent guy back then when all the other guys were jerks. I know that now. I'm glad you found someone else. I wish you nothing but the very best." With that, she turned and walked away.

At home, Sharon and Jim were surprised at the progress James was making. To their knowledge, he had not had a drink since returning, he was attending AA twice a week, and he was at church every Sunday and Wednesday. He was a kinder, gentler person who tried to give selflessly to his family. The only problem was that he wanted his wife and son to experience the glory and majesty of the one true god, and their constant refusals tested his resolve like nothing else.

It was October. James was outside on a Saturday raking leaves. Jim, who was continuously impressed by his father's new outlook, decided to grab the spare rake and help him. James smiled and told his son that he appreciated him. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, this sparked something within Jim's chest.

Once the piles had been transferred to the front for pick-up, James sat on the front porch and asked his son to join him. "I know I still have a long way to go, son, especially with your mother. I really would like to be the husband to her that I was before my downfall. Do you think you could speak with her on my behalf? Maybe ask her to see it in her heart to allow me to take her out on an honest to goodness date?"

"A date?" Jim asked. He wanted to laugh. Instead, he said, "I'll talk to her for you, Dad."

"A date?" Sharon asked when Jim told her of his conversation with his father.

"That's what he said."

"Should I?" she asked. "You know, just for the sake of appearances?"

"If it's just for the sake of appearances, I guess so," Jim said.

"Then I guess I'll do it."

Jim reported this back to his father, who then took it upon himself to speak with Sharon. They decided on Friday night, a whole week away.

Jim understood the reason his mother felt this date was important, but that didn't mean he liked it any. He was a bit jealous and actually felt somewhat betrayed. He waited up for his parents to return, and when they came in after midnight, the laughter he heard them share was the last thing he ever thought he'd hear. As much as he wanted to go downstairs and ask how things went, he decided he'd wait and let his mother come to him and tell him herself. That never happened.

The next morning, Jim was up early. He was frustrated about last night and decided to work it off by completely reorganizing the tool shed. It was scarcely twilight, seven a.m., and it was a bit chilly out, but he donned a tank top and shorts and got to work. As he passed the shrub nubs that separated the Swanson home from Mr. Walton's, he was pleased to see they had begun to fill in.