Control Freak ✔️

08 enter state

From the moment he had gotten to his father's house, all he could think of was plummeting into bed. All of the lights were still on in the house, not just his. On the kitchen counter, he spotted the empty bottle of wine on the kitchen counter, but no sight of any leftover dinner.

"Dad? Crystal?" he called. No one answered. He explored the downstairs, turning off the lights as he traveled, until finally he made his way back up the stairs. A curious scent hit his nostrils: a floral aroma mixed with the smell of standing water. From the upstairs hallway, he saw the flickering orange emanating from the master bedroom. The door was open.

"Dad?" he called again. "Crystal?" He hesitated to poke his head into his father's bedroom. He called once more.

"Dad? Is everyone okay?" He heard a minor splash. A gurgle.

"Hey!" He bolted into the bathroom. The candles lining the bathtub were all dwindling and the bubbles had all melted into the milky bathwater. At the head of it, there brewed a gurgling, like a pot beginning to boil.

"Crystal!" he exclaimed as he plunged his hands in the water to lift her up.

She let out a few meager coughs as she began to come to. He leaned over her until he was close enough to feel her heat, with her long, dark hair tied up in a ball exposing her neck, and her huge, stiff silicone mounds suspended in place with the edge of one brown nipple just barely visible. She lay against the edge, miraculously still with her wine glass teetering in her fingers. Caleb delicately plucked it from her grasp.

"Crystal," he whispered. "What are you doing?"

"Mm, you're finally home, baby. I was waiting for you," she moaned in her sleep.

Caleb groaned. She had no doubt drank herself to sleep again waiting for his dad. "I'm not Dad. Come on. We gotta get you to bed."

She didn't respond. Instead, she twisted away from him and started snoring.

"Crystal, come on." He took her by the hand and rolled her back over. Caleb immediately let her go. He swung his head around, half-anticipating that his father would at the moment come stumbling through the door and assume the worst. He stood there frozen solid for what felt like an eternity of listening to his own rapid heartbeat and the sound of her even breaths. But nothing happened. Her naked body lay exposed to him. Those enormous fake tits he had dreamed of for years were now exposed completely to him.

Caleb turned away to hide that his face had gone totally red. "This is ridiculous. Stop falling asleep in the tub. What if I wasn't here to save you?"

"But you are here," she murmured, barely opening her eyes. Caleb froze in his tracks.

"It's you." she groaned, with all the disgust and opprobrium in her tone and a frozen, dispassionate expression of hers when she looked at him as if he was nothing more than an ant on the wall she didn't bother with enough to even care to scream at the sight of him; or the instinctive desire to smash him. Nothing. "I thought it was your father. But it's you. You pervert."

"Just shut up and come on, okay?" he hissed through his teeth as he struggled to pull her up by her underarms.

As he continued to pull, she parted her knees. She opened her legs to him. "Well? Isn't this what you wanted?"

He grit his teeth, cursing his dad for marrying such a woman. Technically, she wasn't his mom. He slowly let his hand begin to slide. Every heave of her breasts looked more erotic than the last. Every sleepy moan teased him, challenged his manhood. In the candlelit water, each tiny splash against her body showered her like golden fragments bursting from the sea. Her long wet hair reached the small of her back. Her eyes of frosty-eyed glare had warmed and glazed over; she looked sad, almost pleading in her moment of weakness. For that, he hated her, desired her. He met her flashing eyes, and her soft pink lips, parting into a tiny smile, a delicate, pitifully sexy wriggle in the corners of her mouth she could so naturally employ. Those lips, and the small glimpse of those pretty white teeth that beckoned him inside, and the golden oblivion of her eyes, encouraged him to come to her.

"You're just like your father, aren't you? Or... are you not like him? You look so much like him now, it's scary. I wonder if you'll end up like him. Find a woman and vow all your love and affection only to her forever and ever, only to discard her like trash...and then move onto the next one while she waits and waits for you at night. I wonder if that's what it was like when he left his first wife— your mother— because at least in my case, it wasn't even that difficult to get him begging and begging to get inside me. Does your mother know?"

"Crystal, you're drunk, okay? Just drain the water and go to bed—"

"Oh no, wait. You can't be like your father. You can't even keep a girlfriend. Do you even like girls? Well? Prove it, you freak."

"I'm not, Crystal," he declared with his chin pointed skyward. "Whatever it is you want, I'm not gonna do it."

"C'mon, you little pervert. C'mon. Don't you want me? It's still good. I know it's still good!"

"Just shut up and come on!" He lifted her out of the tub and fell swiftly backwards, causing them both to crash to the floor. The haughtiness in her tone disintegrated to feeble whining as she lay with her face planted in a puddle. "Why doesn't anybody want me anymore?" she whimpered with a mixture of spit and bathwater bubbling from her lips.

Caleb stumbled to his feet and bolted out of the bathroom and then out of the house. He ran to the end of the block before collapsing over and grabbing his knees. Once he caught his wind, he straightened up and jammed his hands in his pockets as he paced along the sidewalk, counting the streetlamps down the hill.

The harbor sky bled from a hundred of skinny black needles piercing into it, and from which a thousand tangled threads spilled out and belonged to the birds, a congregation of seagulls high above on the tips of the masts and the ropes attached to the sails. His dull brown eyes had gone listlessly wandering out at sea, tossing along the waves of the crystal black water as it twinkled with little fragments of starlight. He stopped walking at the center of a bridge that stretched to the other side of the city. He leaned over the railing, counting the wandering ships, and watching his breath fade into the ether in little wisps of condensation.

"If you're gonna jump," he heard a voice call. "You could pick a worse night. It's beautiful out this evening."

"Oh, don't worry, I'm not trying to kill myself, I—" he politely stammered with a weathered smile, genuine in its warmth and pain. But as he turned to the girl, it was as if he had seen a ghost.

"—vy."

And the girl smiled back.