For Her Family

Alex Jones was not prepared for the phone call at midnight. She had been in bed for an hour, comfortably sleeping, and dreaming of the coming winter vacation only two months away. She patted around on her nightstand in search of the device emanating the intrusive noise and habitually hit the power button as her head collapsed into the pillow.

"Hello. Who is this," she asked into the darkness.

"Mom. Mom. It's me. It's Annabel. I'm coming home. I did something Mom. Please. Meet me downstairs," the sobbing voice on the other line replied.

Alex didn't need any more information. She knew the voice, the sob, the sound of the crying. As a mother, these sounds are as unique and individual as a fingerprint, and they startled her. Annabel was not the type to cry; much less sob and the fact that she had not explained it over the phone left Alex with a terrible knot in her stomach. She launched from the bed, throwing on a bathrobe, darting down to the front door. One hand clutched the terry cloth robe shut, hiding her nude body. Alex and her husband had made love earlier in the evening and she had not bothered dressing afterwards. Within moments her panicked eyes caught sight of the headlights of the Ford Explorer that Annabel drove.

The moment the SUV turned into the driveway, Alex was out the door and running to the driver's side. Annabel burst from the car and met her mother beside the front wheel well. For a few moments she huddled there, her sobs gradually fading until she spoke up.

"I hit someone Mom. I wasn't paying attention, and I was looking down for my iPod, and then I heard a sound and then a bump. I stopped the car, but it was too late. I killed her, I killed her, Mom." Once again the sobbing filled the air and Annabel's head collapsed back into her mother's shoulder.

Alex was stunned. She did not know what to say. She could smell the strong odor of alcohol on her daughter's clothes and her stomach twisted painfully within her. While Annabel sobbed, Alex's eyes raced over the body of the vehicle. It was not until she looked down beside where they stood that she noticed the signs of the accident. The plastic body piece beneath the bumper was hanging loose and dark liquid spots covered the lighter paint. Alex did not ask what they were. The instinctual response of a mother came to life.

"Go inside. I will make sure we get this taken care of. Nothing will happen to you. Put your clothes in the wash room and get to bed. We will talk about this in the morning. Go. Sleep."

Once Annabel was through the door, Alex turned back towards the vehicle. Her mind raced through all the crime shows she had seen in her mid-evening TV watching. She ran back inside quickly pouring a cap of bleach into a bucket and added water. Then back out the front door, robe flapping behind her. She scrubbed for an hour at the bumper, the tire, the undercarriage, the step, the rim. After she was sure she had covered the whole side of the vehicle she pulled it far up alongside the garage, ensuring that the car was not immediately visible from the road and that it would not impede her husband's departure for work.

Mentally exhausted she returned to the controlled warmth of her suburban home. She abandoned the robe in the hamper, and padded naked up the stairs. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom and peaked into her daughter's room. As Alex expected, Annabel was still up, curled against the far corner of her bed. She stared blankly out into the dark grey night sky. She slipped in to her side and pulled her nineteen year old daughter closer. Over and over again for the next two hours she would whisper that everything would be okay. She did not stop even when her daughter's breathing slowed and her body relaxed in her arms. The phrase was meant to reassure her as much as it was for her Annabel.

She would wake up there the next morning; her daughter still slumped into the recess beneath her arm. Her towel had fallen to her lap and her skin was covered in gooseflesh. Alex quietly refastened the towel and shook her daughter awake. In the quiet of the morning, the two women would discuss exactly what had happened and what they could do. Alex then readied for work and went about her routine as normal. Her husband was waking up just as she was heading out the door. She gave him a quick kiss goodbye and rushed to work.

The hours would drag by slowly for Alex. She had a hard time concentrating on the lessons she was supposed to be teaching. Her students sensed the absence of their teacher's usually alert attention, and took full advantage. By three o'clock, she was ready to bolt for her car. She hastily drove to the nearby gym where she worked off the long stress of the day and the prior night. Her workout was more intense then normal and by the time she was finished, she was barely able to walk. Alex would break down crying under the hot flow of the shower. She managed to contain the heaving of her shoulders and chest as she fought to regain the composure upon which she depended. After fifteen minutes, she dried, dressed, and returned to the car. The ride home was short. In her distracted state she had a tendency to speed and it shaved five minutes off the drive.

The normal duties became torturous as Alex and Annabel shared furtive glances and knowing looks every few minutes. Alex's other child, eighteen-year old David, and her husband, Mike, seemed oblivious to the sharp edge that laced the women's conversation and actions. After dinner, Annabel and Alex cleaned up together, allowing the two men to wander off to do their own thing. The mother and daughter discussed their plans. First, they would never broach the topic again. Secondly, on Saturday, Alex would drive the SUV out of the county to a small auto body shop operated from a man's home. She would pay in cash and return home. The repairs were minor so the work would be done in one day. As of yet, there had been no news reports on the hit and run accident and whom the victim might be. Thirdly, Annabel would return to school with the SUV and stay on campus for the remainder of the quarter except for a holiday visit on Thanksgiving. Alex did not want Annabel driving down the same road where the accident had occurred more than necessary. She feared both for her daughter's mental well being, but also for any connection a nearby resident might make.

Once the cleaning was done, the four family members reconvened in front of the TV. During Mike's habitual channel flipping a local news station caught their attention on a commercial break. The photograph of an attractive middle-aged woman was framed by the phrase "Hit and Run". An anchor was standing beside a smaller two lane road with a patch of trees behind it. In the background, yellow crime tape waved, and the ruby and royal flashes of police lights bounced off the trees.

"....was believed to be walking home after having car trouble. She lived only a mile from the place where she was killed. Police are not releasing many details or information regarding suspects, but they do have several leads. The body was found a dozen feet into this copse of trees behind me. She apparently attempted to crawl to safety, but likely was incapable of communicating or calling for help. It was not until this afternoon, when a runner's dog located the body, that she was discovered. We will be following this story for the rest of the night. As more details become available we will relay them to you. I'm Mary Ann Saliss for KMOV 9."

Mike and David flipped back to their regularly scheduled programming, as if nothing had happened. Annabel and Alex were both frozen in their chairs, incapable of responding to any outside sensation. Both women felt deep pangs of guilt and regret as they heard that the woman had briefly survived the accident. But Alex would not lose her daughter. It was bad enough that one woman had already died, and Alex knew that losing her daughter would likely kill her. Her hand closed tightly over Annabel's and for the rest of the night, they stared into the flickering electronic light of the television, their only source of hope buried deep within.

The next three days flew by for Alex. Annabel returned to school the moment the Explorer was fixed. She called her mother on a regular basis and kept her informed about the daily routines which she pursued with newfound zealousness. Alex went back to work the following Monday feeling much better about the secret she carried. The police had released some information about the vehicle which had struck and killed the woman, but it was vague and barely narrowed down the field of suspects. They knew it was a Ford truck or SUV. They knew that the driver had been heading west on the road. They knew that the driver had not even braked. But they had no witnesses and no more physical evidence then a small bit of tread pattern following the point of contact. Alex felt bad about the feeling of freedom this news brought, but her daughter and family were more important than any person on earth.

All the feelings of relaxation, freedom, and joy disappeared the moment she flipped open the final book report of her class. She had already graded the student down for the apparent lack of effort. There had been no title page, no bibliography, just an 8" by 11" manila envelope. The pictures immediately drew her eye. The first was of an Explorer parked beside a house. Her Explorer, beside her house. The following pictures were taken at night, but detailed the damage to the left front end of the SUV and its bumper. They would have had to have been taken within two nights of the accident. The next pictures were even more disturbing. They were photographs of her and her daughter clinging to each other in the darkness of the night of the accident. The pictures ranged from farther away, to close up. There was no mistaking who it was in the shots. There were pictures of her cleaning the vehicle rapidly in the night. But the most worrisome of the photos was the one of the SUV as it sped away from a slumped form lying in the middle of the road. The color was difficult to tell, but the picture allowed the license plate to be read. Alex slumped back into her chair, some of the pictures dropping to the sterile tiles of the schoolroom floor. Her eyes began to water as her hands shakily withdrew a letter from the envelope. It was written in clear and precise strokes. There was self-assurance in each letter and in the simple message.

"I know... I know... I know... You know... Your daughter knows.... And now we will play a little game. I will be the mean little child, and you my toy. For your daughter's sake, if not your own, I hope you will play along. My demands will be simple. Disobedience will result in punishment. You know how this works. You will receive my first request shortly."

Alex's pent up emotions exploded into a burst of fear and anger and confusion. She shredded the note and the pictures until she could tear no more. Then she attacked them with scissors, with the lighter she had confiscated from one of the boys, with everything at hand, until there was little left. She swept the surviving fragments into her trash can and stormed from her room. She headed straight for her car, ignoring the concerned stares of the coworkers she passed in the hallway. Her anger would give way to fear the moment she saw the manila envelope resting on her windshield.

Alex grabbed the envelope and slid slowly into the driver's seat, her hand nervously prying apart the folds which carried her fate. Another note and the first demand.

"I want your panties. The ones you have on right now. Take them off, put them back in the envelope and throw them in the trashcan by the north entrance to the school. Then leave. Don't look for me, or the police will be looking for you. Remember......."

Alex's breathing was nearing a hyperventilating rate as her eyes scanned the parking lot for the blackmailer. She knew she would see nothing, but the lack of people, allowed her to perform the task. She pulled her waist forward from the back of the seat and hiked her skirt as high as possible. Alex watched as her hands fished the black hip hugging panties downward. It all seemed so surreal. Only one week ago, life had been perfect. Two wonderful children, a husband with a successful pediatrics practice, and a great job doing what she loved. Now she was bending to the whims of some pervert who was taking advantage of her love for Annabel. She slipped the black panties into the manila envelope, took a deep breath, and left her car. Alex suddenly felt quite naked and exposed, despite the fact that nothing of her outward appearance had changed. She strode quickly to the garbage can, took one last glance around then threw the package in. Her long strides flooded her now naked crotch with cool air, making her move even more quickly back to the safety of her car's interior.

Finding herself stressed and nervous, Alex decided to head for her gym. She pulled her tote from the back seat and went in doors. The receptionist looked up as she approached and politely handed her a message. It simply said, "Well done."

Alex questioned the receptionist about who had left the message, but it had only been relayed ten minutes before her arrival by phone. Alex still did not want to go home and it took every ounce of self-discipline to force her to stay. She changed quietly in the back corner of the locker room, hoping to disguise the fact that she was no longer wearing underwear. Several mothers from the PTA and others who knew their family worked out around the same time she did. Alex did not want to risk any further embarrassment and wasted no time pulling her shorts on over her long fit legs.

Her work out was once again full of intensity and anger. She ran farther, faster than she normally would. Her weight training dealt little with toning and focused on strength building. Once again she found herself exhausted and on the verge of a physical collapse. In the showers she did not cry. She simply stood numbly beneath the downspout of water as it flowed down her naked form. Other women came and went, but Alex found herself afraid to leave the safety of the shower's warm embrace. It was not until she recognized on of her husband's nurses entering the shower that she bolted. She was in no mood for conversation with one of his employees. Alex hastily dressed, hoping to disguise once again her panty-less ensemble.

Alex was relieved to find no notes on her windshield and drove home, feeling more and more unburdened with each mile marker. She pulled into her spot in the driveway and parked her Volkswagen. After gathering her belongings she went straight for her bedroom. All of the bags dropped to the floor when she opened the door to her and her husband's room. There, lying on her pillow was another manila envelope. Once again her impulses screamed for her to ignore it, to go on living without the threat of the blackmailer, but she knew she had little choice in the matter. This note was more cryptic than the last few had been.

"Leave the blinds open and the lights on. Make it a great show."

Alex had no idea what was meant by the message. She examined all of the possible entrances to the house, but found everything locked and latched. Exhausted from the taunting of the mystery writer she returned to her room. She shoved the note beneath the mattress when she heard the sounds of her husband coming up the stairs. Alex pulled her hair back into a ponytail and quickly looped it off, hoping to look as normal as possible.

She was surprised by her husband's actions however. He sauntered up behind her, a coy look on his face. One of his hands steadily pushed her in the upper back until she was bent over the footboard, his other hand groping into her still naked crotch. She managed to let a partially phrased "Wha..." escape her lips before she felt the heat of his breath on the area of skin, her skirt had only until recently covered. When his lips made contact with the backside of her upper thigh, any questions evaporated. Her husband had an affinity and appreciation for cunnilingus which she had learned to appreciate. His hands slid up beneath her skirt and caressed her bottom while pulling her thighs farther apart. Alex buried her face in the smooth downy comforter and forgot her troubles. The skillful tongue of her husband raced up and over the long stretch of skin on her inner thigh before darting down the other side. Never did it make contact with the needy center of their apex. He knew that the foreplay would only bring a stronger reaction and he continued his taunting for another minute until he could smell her desire.

In a bright flash of pleasure the flexible oral muscle pressed onto her lips and ran over and back and over and back again. Alex thrust back on the tongue, hoping to increase the pressure of the tiny taste buds on her slit. The skillful tongue darted away, not giving her the extra touch she desired. This was her husband's game and she was his toy. Again the tongue reconnected with her pussy, her lips by now well wetted with the lubricants her body had to offer. The salty sweet taste of her juices dared him deeper and his face pressed farther into her backside as the tongue sought deeper prey. Alex was soon grinding on the fucking tongue, her skirt hiked up and over her waist, held by the edge of the footboard. Within minutes the heat produced, from the subtle twists and turns of the muscle within her, was driving her into a near orgasmic frenzy. Sensing the impending explosion her husband pulled his tongue free and lashed it repeatedly over the proud little nub of flesh which stood over the entrance to her vagina. Only a few slathering licks and Alex's voice cried hoarsely into the sheets. Her husband continued to explore her folds with his tongue until he was satisfied that she was well satiated.

Then he rose behind her and Alex heard the urgent zip of his trousers as he freed his cock from his slacks. Alex grinned as she heard him groan as she pressed the deep red head of his dick into her pussy. Despite two children, she had managed to maintain some tightness down below and her regular exercise gave her a fantastic appearance for a mother and teacher. It took only a second for Mike to eagerly thrust fully into her passage. Just before he pulled back to begin his regular stroke he dropped a note by her head.

"I never expected anything like this, darling. I was so hard for the rest of the day."

Alex turned to the note puzzled as she felt his hands grip her thighs and his cock begin to fuck in and out of her doubled form. Her eyes widened, not from excitement but from surprise. There were her panties, with a small typed note sticking from them.

"If you have these, then I don't. I'll be waiting for you at home. – Alex"

Her fingers dug into the bed half from frustration and half from the excitement the steady thrust of her husband's cock produced. Her mind wandered away from the sex as it traced the meaning of the earlier message. The blinds were open, and the lights were on. But there was no place that the blackmailer could spy on them from. Meanwhile, her husband's pace was increasing as the clenching grip of her responsive pussy answered the length of his cock. His hands were painfully clenched on her hips as he leaned over her body, hammering his rod in and out of her spread pink cunt.

Alex was caught off guard by her orgasm, having been wondering where the blackmailer could be hiding. But the sudden spasming and clenching of her crotch's muscles knocked any other thought processes out. Her hips hunched back on her husband's girth and ground over his crotch. As she leaned back into the bed a long glistening trail of her juices sparkled over the pale skin of his dick. It did not take much more for him to join her as he stared down at her heart shaped ass and the scene of his dick pulling and thrusting into her spread pussy lips. Alex lay, bent over the bed for a few minutes longer, gathering her thoughts and energy. Once her husband withdrew from her, she headed for the bathroom.