Chapter 1 - Act 1
Act 1 - The Neglected Mother
It was well past midnight when Nathan, mostly mentally exhausted, found himself standing before his childhood home. The grand Victorian house, with expansive porch and pool at its side, was a testament to the family's prosperity, yet something alien to Nathan. The rain, which had begun as a mere drizzle, now fell in heavy sheets, each droplet striking the cobblestone path like a tiny drumbeat, echoing the disheartening rhythm of Nathan's life.
His parents' home had become his sanctuary, his refuge from the world's unyielding expectations. Yet, with each passing day, he could feel how the world’s expectations were crushing his every hope and dream. Today had been especially brutal. Not only had he fucked up yet another job interview, but he also missed a train, and around half-way walking home rain decided to ruin anything else that was still fine. So, perhaps despite being a freeloader at his parent’s home, he was a little bit happy to escape from this horrible weather.
Slipping inside, Nathan moved like a shadow, his practiced stealth honed by years of late-night arrivals. He shrugged off his wet coat and kicked off his soaked shoes, leaving them in a puddle by the door. He sneaked up the creaking staircase, knowing exactly which board caused noise and which not.
His room, once his childhood sanctuary, now felt like a prison cell. It was a space that seemed to hold its breath, waiting for him to leave, to move on, to become something more than he was, just like when he was a teenager, leaving home for the first time. Nathan stripped off his wet clothes, the fabric clinging to him like a second skin, and pulled on a pair of worn sweatpants and an old t-shirt he had worn for for too long. The fabric, soft from countless washes, hugged him comfortingly, a fleeting moment of solace.
Sitting on his chair, Nathan let out a sigh that was part frustration, part resignation. With a soft touch on his laptop’s touch-pad, its screen flickering to life. The inbox was a parade of red notifications, each one a stark reminder of his rejection. He clicked on the last one he had received today, his eyes scanning the familiar opening lines.
"Mr. Nathan," Nathan said quietly, mockingly. "We regret to inform you…" He stopped, eyes glazing over the rest of the words. He didn't need to read them to know what they said. He closed his email, releasing a long sigh of disappointment. Another rejection. Another closed door. Another step backwards in his seemingly endless march forward. Nothing had been going well for him since ages. It didn’t help that he lived in an luxurious house screaming of success.
Nathan sighed, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the blank screen before him. Porn, his usual solace after a day gone awry, now lay untouched, its thumbnails mocking him with their promises of fleeting pleasure. And yet, he could not even get hard anymore as stress was slowly strangling him. He closed his laptop, giving up on that idea as well.
"Bloody hell," he muttered. His gaze flicked around his room, landing on his towel, neatly folded on his bed. “If everything else fails, there’s always bath,” he muttered, stood up and scooped it up like a soldier preparing for battle.
The house, with its sprawling layout, offered two bathrooms. The master, spacious and rather luxurious, was off-limits, reserved for his parents' use. The other, smaller and very cramped and uncomfortable, was his sanctuary, a place where he could wash away the dirt and grime of the day, both literal and metaphorical. Navigating the darkened house with the stealth of a cat burglar, Nathan made his way to the bathroom. The soft hum of the water heater reached his ears as he backed into the bathroom, closing the door behind him.
Turning around, Nathan found himself in a tight “corridor”, the bathtub to his left, the toilet to his right, and the shower at the end. The room was fully tiled, but quite sloppily, making it obvious that this used to be some other room, till it was forcefully made into a bathroom. The space was cramped, the ceiling low, the air heavy with moisture and the faint scent of soap. However, the moment he had turned around, his gaze lingered on the shower, his heart pounding in his chest as he took in the sight of his mother, Helen, standing under the showerhead, her back towards him.
Helen's long, silvery hair was darkened by the running water against her head, the roots of her natural dark blonde more visible than usual. Her shoulders, narrow and delicate, bore the weight of her long hair, her skin naturally smooth despite her age. She was a bit smaller side and because of trying to please my father who has no longer shown any interest in her, she has been putting extra effort into her looks and weight. Nathan's breath hitched in his throat as he took in the sight of her naked form, his mind supplying him with a mental catalog of her features, committing them to memory like he was doing a last minute learning to an exam that decided his entire future.
The hum of the water heater and shower’s water hitting her mom’s body seemed to fade into the background, replaced by the pounding of his own heart, the rush of blood in his ears. He stood there, rooted to the spot, his mind a whirlwind of inappropriate thoughts, reminding him his fantasies, dreams, he had buried for a long time.
Helen turned, her movements slow and languid, as if underwater. The water, now cascading down her back, caught the light, casting prismatic fragments onto the tiles. Her front was a revelation, a landscape of curves and softness that Nathan had only ever imagined in the darkest recesses of his fantasies. This was no mere figment, no fleeting image. This was tangible, real, and utterly intoxicating.
Her breasts, modest and perky, barely swayed with her movements, yet still managed to capture his attention. They felt perfect to grab into her palm to rub them while holding her nipples between his fingers. Her stomach, rounded from years of bearing children, bore a small, silvered scar, a badge of honor from his ill-fated birth. Her hips, full and generous, flared out into thighs that were neither too thick nor too thin, but just right. And her pubic area, a thatch of blond curls that matched her hair, was a tantalizing hint of what lay beneath.
Nathan's gaze lingered there, his mind filling in the fantasies he’d want to do with her. He could almost see the lips of her sex, the hood of her clit, the entrance to her core. His heart pounded in his chest, his mouth dry, his body tensing with a desire he hadn't felt in weeks.
Helen began to wash, her hands moving slowly, sensuously over her skin. She started with her armpits, the sponge moving in circular motions, the soap suds bubbling and popping. Her movements were hypnotic, a ballet of intimacy that Nathan watched with rapt fascination.
And then Helen's movements suddenly stopped.
Why did you stop? Nathan thought, confused. But as he raised his gaze, he saw Helen's eyes open, looking at him, her eyes wide with surprise. One hand instinctively moved to cover her breasts, the other to shield her nether regions.
"Nathan?" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the water heater.
"Mom, I'm sorry, I just walked in!" Nathan said hurriedly, feigning shock as he continued to blatantly consume her with his look. "What are you doing in there?" he asked, attempting to shift the focus onto her.
"I got home late and your father was already asleep," she explained, her voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't want to wake him with the shower noise."
"Ooooh, I see," Nathan responded, his hand slowly going down, trying to hide his noticeable bulge in his pants. He had never been so painfully hard, so quickly, his desire fueled by his mother's presence and his own twisted needs. His mother's gaze followed his hands, her eyes widening as she took in the sight of his failed attempt to hide his erection tenting his sweatpants.
"Nathan, this is… inappropriate," Helen managed to say, her voice trembling slightly. She was trying her best to maintain her composure, but the sight of her son's erection, coupled with the realization that he could’ve been watching her, had shaken her deeply. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She knew she should cover herself, should tell him to leave, but she felt rooted to the spot, her body refusing to obey her commands. Despite how wrong it was, she felt seen first time in a very long time.
Her words, however, seemed to have the opposite effect on Nathan. They sparked something within him, a darkness he had long kept buried beneath layers of self-denial and repression. It was as if her disapproval had struck a match, igniting the fuse of his suppressed desires, his seal of his bad side. He felt a thrill of shame and excitement course through him, the need to to stop running from his desires, chances that were in front of him.
He decided it was finally time to act, to be the asshole he had hidden away. To give in to the dark fantasies that had plagued him for years, the ones he had kept locked away, hidden even from himself. He felt a sense of liberation, a shedding of the old Nathan, the one who always did the right thing, the one who was always the good boy. This new Nathan, the one who was looking at his mother with unabashed lust, felt… good. He could be denied, pushed away. But he wanted to try, rather than live another day in regret and misery.
