Keith sat at the kitchen table, angry. It was his 18th birthday, and he spent it alone.
"That bitch." he fumed, "She can't spend one lousy fucking day with her only son."
Keith's mother, Sheila, was at that moment in her bedroom. The words she used with Keith was "entertaining a friend" but he classified it as "being a whore". She spent a lot of time "entertaining" or going out with one of them. Keith was sure that there was "entertainment" going on then, too.
"One day, just one day was all I asked," Keith muttered. "I ought to go kick the door in and bitch her out."
Deep in his mind, however, he knew better. He was never good at confrontation, especially when his mother was involved. The few times that he actually had the nerve to say anything to her, she'd looked at him with those tired, beaten eyes, and his anger immediately melted.
He knew the story well. She'd was only 14 when she gotten pregnant with him by the married next-door neighbor. Her dysfunctional family had kicked her out of the house, the man who impregnated her refused to have anything to do with her. She'd had him and then lived on her wits (Keith translated that as being a whore) for a year before she was noticed by a group of well-to-do men. They'd made an arrangement with her: If she spread her legs exclusively for them, they would pay the rent, grocery bill, clothing bill. There wasn't much in the house, but they never lacked for essentials.
Keith cringed every time she'd reminded him of what she was doing for his future. Her future was dark, bleak, and without much hope. With no skills besides offering her body to men, she knew she couldn't make it on her own. Her one lone hope was that Keith would one day leave the house and make his mark on the world.
Keith refused to interact with the men whenever they came over. He rarely even saw any of them, usually going to his room when the door opened, and coming back out when he heard the door shut as they left. Today, however, he'd come home from school and she was already with some man in her bedroom. Concentrating on his self-pity, he failed to hear the noises stop in her bedroom, or the squeak of her bedroom door opening.
"Hello, Keith," the man who had just gotten done fucking his mother said. He was tall and powerfully built. The lines on his face and the tint of grey in his hair put his age at the late 50's
Keith looked up at him. "Hello yourself," he said nastily. "Now there's the door, why don't you trip your ass out of it?"
"You've grown since the last time I saw you," the man said. moving around behind Keith and putting a meaty hand on his shoulder. "Grown a bit of an attitude, also, I see."
"You got your nut in Mom," Keith snarled. "Now leave."
The man shoved Keith off the chair and onto the floor. "You don't know how good the two of you have it," he growled. "There's much, much worse things that could have happened to you and your mother. I think a little appreciation is in order."
Keith sprang to his feet. "Appreciate that you and your friends use my mom as a cum dumpster? We'd have been better off starving in the streets," he yelled.
The man balled his hand into a fist, and punched Keith in the stomach. Keith doubled over, the wind knocked out of him.
Sheila had appeared in the doorway, wearing a flimsy robe. "Warren, NO!" she said, rushing over to her son.
"Stay out of it, Sheila," Warren growled. "I tried to be nice, but he doesn't want to play nice."
Kneeling by Keith, Sheila looked up at Warren with moist eyes. "Just leave him alone, please?" she begged. "He'll apologize, won't you, Keith?"
"Fuck him," Keith said, wheezing. "I'm not going to apologize to him."
Sheila's gaze went from Warren to Keith. "Please, please, baby," she cried, tears running down her face and ruining her makeup. "Just apologize and everything will be ok."
Keith struggled to his feet. "Fuck no," he replied, anger flashing in his eyes.
Warren's arm flew out and he punched Keith in the stomach a second time. The breath that he'd just recovered whooshed out of his lungs, and he collapsed again.
Sheila jumped up and pummeled Warren's chest with her fists. "LEAVE HIM ALONE!" she screamed, her tears flowing down her cheeks.
Warren barely noticed her. Still looking at Keith, he grabbed her wrists and led her over to the couch in the living room. He pushed her down onto the couch, then raised a finger in warning.
"You sit there. You do nothing. You say nothing. Otherwise, our agreement is null and void," he said. "Do you understand? I mean everything we've promised to you is out the window if you say or do one more thing."
She nodded, sobbing uncontrollably, then covered her eyes with her balled up hands.
Warren walked back over to Keith. Looking down at him gasping for breath, he said, "It just occurred to me that you've been living here under me and my friends' good graces, and yet haven't paid anything for all that."
Warren grabbed Keith by the hair and yanked him to his knees. "I think it's time for you to start paying your share, boy. Since you don't have anything I want, I'll take it out in trade...like I do with your mother."
Still holding Keith by the hair with one hand, he used his other hand to unzip his pants and pull out his dick. "You can start by sucking my dick right now," he said, menacingly.
Keith's eyes flew open. Warren couldn't possibly mean it. It was just a threat, intimidation.
Warren slapped Keith across the face. "Suck it! You've got back rent due, boy, so get your mouth on my dick RIGHT FUCKING NOW!"
"I'm not sucking yours or anybody elses dick," Keith said, defiantly.
Warren yanked Keith's hair, then leaned over him. "If you don't, then BOTH of you are out right now with just the clothes on your back. No money, no house, no food. How long do you think it'll take your mother turning tricks on the street before you can afford to eat? Which john will be the one that beats her up, or kills her? What disease will she die from because you're too fucking proud to pay your share of the rent?"
Keith's face went pale. His defiance was not only affecting him, it was also affecting his mother. He thought that her life was shitty, but suddenly realized that it could be even worse.
Warren loosened the grip on Keith's hair. "Well? he demanded. "What's it going to be? My dick, or the street?"
Keith was deathly afraid now, but not afraid of Warren. He was afraid for his mother and what might happen to her if he didn't comply with Warren's demands. Despite how angry he was at her earlier, the only thing he could think of now was to protect her.
Hesitantly, Keith leaned forward and extended his tongue. It bumped into the head of Warren's dick, and he recoiled.
"Thinking about tripping your ass out the door?" Warren said, mocking Keith with his own words from earlier. "Suck it, or walk out. I'll make damn sure your mother is about two steps behind you."
Screwing his face up in distaste, Keith again leaned forward until Warrens dick was against his lips. Opening his mouth slightly, he let his lips slide over the cockhead.
"That's better," Warren growled.
Keith slowly took Warrens length in his mouth, gagging slightly from the taste and feel of it. He sat there, with Warrens dick in his mouth, not moving.
"Jesus Christ," Warren muttered. "Are you too stupid to figure out how to suck a dick? Need me to get your mother over here to show you how?"
