Odd Socks and a Crack Pipe
All characters in sexual situations are over 18.
“Odd Socks and a Crack Pipe.”
The crack pipe was carefully wrapped inside a dirty sock at the bottom of Rebecca’s sports bag.
Rebecca is a kid, she isn’t my kid, she’s just a teenager completing her final year at school. ‘Bec looks nothing like her Dad, she’s a skinny version of her mum. I work for her mum, I clean up her mess. Actually, I clean up all the family’s mess. Often I cook for them as well, not all the meals, just enough so there’s something in the fridge and something homemade for the kids’ school lunches. I’m the houseboy, the gardener, the ‘parent’, and the cleaner.
The Oakshotts are a fairly typical middle class, suburban family. Katie, the mum, and Terence, the dad, both work. They have lots of money but not much time for the family. Their kids are great, very independent, I guess they have to be. The girls look like their mother. Katie’s cute, with reddish blonde hair, a few freckles, a bit on the chubby side. But don’t let Katie’s looks fool you, she’s smart and confident. Katie’s a CEO, she manages a publically listed company. Terence is pretty cool for a dad, he has an art gallery specialising in Aboriginal paintings. Terence also spends a fair bit of time away from home, he’s not a family man.
I love this family. I love their house, their garden, their pool. I love how they are so comfortable. This family wants for nothing.
Being the houseboy for the Oakshott’s is good, I’m happy because I’m busy. But it’s not my real job. I like to think that my real job is building ‘high end’ parquetry tables, they start around $25,000. This is why I work for the Oakshott’s, I don’t sell that many tables. Once upon a time I had a proper job, I sold insurance and personal income protection. I called myself a financial planner – sounds much better than an insurance salesman. It paid well, but I didn’t like being in insurance, no one trusts an insurance salesman. For a single guy, the perks were good, the money was great. I had enough to do whatever I wanted; parties, girls, cars, but it was a tough way to get ahead, and you needed a fairly thick skin. Anyway, I had to chuck in the insurance game, the lifestyle took its toll.
I met the husband, Terence, at a ‘Woodworkers in Art’ Exhibition. The one and only time I’ve exhibited anything. Terence liked my stuff and he commissioned a table. So I called on Terence and Katie, they were after a show piece for their large dining room. Immediately, I was blown away by everything about the Oakshotts, if I had played my cards right, this is how my life would have turned out.
When I first met Katie, I found her to be really sexy in that Power Executive style, she wasn’t a classic beauty with a toned body. She didn’t have the taut butt and the big boobs, she was sexy because she had money and credibility…and the house and the kids and the holidays and the cars. The more I got to know Katie and her family, the more I wanted to be a part of their lives.
Katie wanted to help design their table, I was more than ok with this. I liked spending time with Katie and her kids. We had many evening sessions together, she would move the family’s crap from the big, white leather couch and we’d get to work. Katie would tell me what she wanted and I would sketch. Looking at all the mess one day, I joked that Katie needed a housekeeper, she agreed and asked if I knew anyone. I put my hand up for the job.
I spent three days a week working at the Oakshott’s. Terence and Jonathon are tidy, but the girls are slobs. Rebecca and Jodie take after their mother. Clothes, towels, plates, books, homework are just dumped, and left for someone else to pick up. That someone is me. I wash everything, I tidy their rooms, and I pick up after them. If I find anything I shouldn’t, it goes in the top drawer of whoever’s bedside table. I get on well with the kids, they like the way I respect their stuff, they like my food and I think they like having someone around when they get home from school. I’m happy, it’s nice to be a part of this family and I need to keep busy.
‘Bec is my favourite, I think she’s Katie’s favourite too. She has an amazing school life, she’s one of those kids who is into everything. She’s in the school band, she plays the trumpet. She plays netball twice a week and she trains every other day. She’s fun, smart, sporty and popular.
So back to the crack pipe in Bec’s sports bag. I’ve made it one of my jobs to make sure her netball gear is always ready. Her sports bag usually contains what you’d expect: a uniform, runners, a water bottle, medical tape and lolly wrappers. This day was different, hidden inside a dirty sock was a crack pipe. Socks are the bane of my life, pairs never match up and working out which socks belong to which kid is a nightmare.
But what do I do, it’s a crack pipe, not a pack of condoms, or a bottle of vodka?
I sent a text to Katie – ‘need to talk. Seb.’
Yep, my name is Sebastian. I hate my name. Sebastians should be rich. Sebastians should be halkalı escort married with kids, they should take Labradors for enthusiastic walks.
It wasn’t unusual for me to contact Katie this way. Katie would ring when she was free. But this time when she does call back, what would I say? Your older daughter is on crack? I found something bad in Rebecca’s room? I think Rebecca is taking drugs? Your daughter is an addict?
Katie, rang. “Seb, what’s the problem?”
“We need to have a chat, when can you give me five minutes?”
“Why, what’s wrong, what’s broken?”
“Katie, I’d rather not discuss this on the phone, we need to talk. I know something that I think you should know.”
“What do you know? What’s my dickhead husband done now? He’s not fucking another artist again?”
“Katie, I wouldn’t know that. When can we catch up?”
“If it’s really important, I can be home in an hour.”
“Excellent,” I responded. “I’ll put the kettle on.” I hung up and went back to cleaning the office. I liked playing in Katie’s office, she had lots of nice mail. Invitations to charity events, gala openings, important letters from bankers and fund managers, membership renewals from the golf club. Lots of rich people’s correspondence.
When I heard the front door slam, I switched off the vacuum and bounded down the stairs, Katie was in the kitchen. She had fired up the espresso machine. She was home faster than I had expected.
“Want one?” Katie asked, holding up a small espresso glass.
“No thanks, Katie, I’ve had a couple already.”
“So, Seb’ what’s the mystery? What do you know?” Katie asked as she swallowed most of her coffee in one gulp.
“Have a look in there,” I said as I dumped Rebecca’s sports bag on the granite kitchen bench.
“Seb, what am I looking for? What’s the mystery? It’s just a gym bag.”
“Katie, inside the socks, look inside the socks.”
Katie eventually found the dirty glass pipe, she looked puzzled.
I folded my arms across my chest, I didn’t want to touch the thing. “Katie, that’s a crack pipe. It’s used for smoking crack.”
“As in, Crack Cocaine? Rebecca is on CRACK!” Katie was understandably agitated.
“Katie we don’t know that, we found a pipe, that’s all. We don’t know if it’s Rebecca’s, it could be a friend’s. Someone could have put it in her bag, she could have found it at school. It could be her boyfriend’s.”
“Lucky you didn’t tell me over the phone. I would have driven straight to school and dragged Rebecca out of class.” Katie swallowed the rest of her coffee and went for another, she stopped. She looked at me, almost pleading for help. “What if it is Rebecca’s, what do I do? Can we send her to rehab’? How do I even talk to Rebecca about this? Can we get her tested, a urine sample, or hair follicles?” As expected, Katie was rambling. Her golden child was on crack. “Seb, what the fuck do I do?”
“Katie, if you want my opinion, I’d speak to Terence and then the two of you should have a chat with Rebecca. Rebecca could be just experimenting. Besides, it might not be her pipe, it could be a friend’s. Anyway, if it is hers, she needs help and the sooner she gets help, the better.”
Despairingly, Katie slammed her coffee glass on the bench. “Seb’, how do I handle this? I don’t need this shit. Terence is fucking useless.” Katie went pale, her fair skin was pale anyway, but any colour she had, drained from her face. The high flying corporate exec’ couldn’t handle this sort of challenge.
“Katie, please speak to Rebecca and if there’s anything I can do, let me know. We could find her a counsellor. I know someone we could use, crack is bad and we need to help her right now.” I reached out and held Katie’s hand, she was distraught, her breasts were heaving and she was about to cry. She gulped at her coffee, trying frantically to get her thoughts together. I gave her hand a squeeze. “Katie, I’ll be here for you and Rebecca. Ring me if there is anything I can do.” I left Katie in the kitchen and went home, back to building tables. I didn’t plan to be around when the shit hit the fan.
The next morning, before I’d done much at all, the phone rang.
“Morning, Katie, how’d it go with Rebecca?”
“Not good at all. Rebecca says it’s not hers. She says she’s not on crack, that she’s never had crack. She says she doesn’t know where the pipe came from.” Katie was ranting, she was still way out of her comfort zone.
“So, you don’t believe her?” I asked.
“Seb’, I don’t know what to believe. Our conversation didn’t go well, I shouted at her. I wouldn’t let her go to school. She’s here now. Terence is away. Can you come over, I don’t know what to do?”
“OK, I’ll be there in twenty minutes.” I jumped into my old van, and drove to the Oakshotts.
Katie was in the kitchen, still in her white cotton pyjamas and wearing glasses, no shower and no make-up. She was stressed. She told me she and Rebecca had a fight with lots of yelling taksim escort and screaming and slamming of doors. Rebecca had taken off. I told Katie to stay at home and I’d go and look for Rebecca. If I couldn’t find her or if she didn’t come home on her own, we could go to the police. Anyway, I had a good idea where she might be.
I was right, I found Rebecca in a park, sitting on a kid’s swing dragging her feet in the dirt. I sat on the swing next to hers. We had a long talk, a very long talk. We chatted about life, boys, netball, books, rowing, music, her friends, just stuff. I don’t think any adult had bothered to talk to her this way. To let her just talk, not to judge or give her advice or tell her how lucky she was. I got around to asking about the crack pipe. I asked where the pipe came from, she wouldn’t say. She didn’t want to discuss the pipe at all. I walked her home, she told me about her trumpet and how much more fun it was playing with an ensemble. I said I’d burn her a copy of Miles Davis’s, ‘A Kind of Blue.’
Katie was waiting for us by the front door, she obviously wanted to have it out with her daughter. She was about to start round two, when I guided her to the stairs and I told her to leave us and go and shower, I’d get Rebecca to school. Rebecca shoved food in her mouth, packed her bag, and got ready for school. I kept her mother away. I drove ‘Bec to school in Katie’s car. ‘Bec didn’t say much, just “Thanks, Seb’, and thanks for dealing with Mum.” She gave me a peck on the cheek as she climbed out of the big BMW.
When I got back, Katie had dressed for the office. She still looked very upset, she was drinking more coffee. I sat on the bench waiting for Katie to talk. I had a fair idea what we should do next and what I would say, but I waited for Katie to make a move. Katie didn’t shift away from the espresso machine but she did start to talk, then it tumbled out.
“Seb’, I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I believe Rebecca, she says the pipe isn’t hers. I want her to talk to me, just tell me the truth. I screamed at her and I don’t scream. I kept on screaming at her. I’m always calm. If this was the office, I’d be fine. Why can’t I have a normal family? Why can’t Terence be here, why do I always have to be the bad cop? Why do I have to deal with this on my own? “
I didn’t move from the bench, I didn’t interrupt.
“Seb’, what do I do? Why do I have to make all the decisions for this family?” Katie started to cry, giant sobs spilling down her cheeks.
I held Katie, I held her tightly, comforting her. She buried her head in my neck. I let her cry and talk at the same time. She told my neck that it wasn’t fair, she didn’t deserve this. She told me that she was a good mother. The inside of my old hoodie was now damp. Eventually Katie stopped crying. I wiped her face clean with my sleeve. I said, “Katie, it’ll work out fine, I know what to do.” I bustled her out of the kitchen and made more coffee.
I sat Katie at the end of a big, white leather couch, the end that caught most of the morning sun. I brought her a plate of muffins and told her to eat. She tore off great big chunks and then shoved little bits into her mouth. Crumbs, chocolate chips and blueberries fell to the floor. Surrounded by coffee, sunshine and muffins I told Katie my plan.
“Seb, let me get this right, you think we should do nothing, nothing at all! Just pretend that it’s not my daughter’s crack pipe sitting on my kitchen bench?”
“Yep, nothing,” I replied. “Katie, stop and think about it. Think about your daughter. Rebecca plays two games of netball a week, she trains what, three nights after school? She starts rowing training in a month, she has band camp. Kids on crack don’t play that much sport. Kids on crack don’t love school the way Rebecca does. When you are on crack, you just don’t have that much life in you.”
Katie let some of what I’d said sink in.
“But Katie, we do need to find answers to these questions: who owns the crack pipe and why was it hidden in ‘Bec’s sports bag?”
Katie shoved more muffin into her mouth, she didn’t drop any this time. I continued, “Katie, Rebecca has her head screwed on the right way, you’ve done a great job with her.” I let that hang, we were both silent. Silent, for quite a long time.
Eventually, I lightened the mood. “Those muffins are loaded with calories, and they aren’t all that healthy. You eat anymore, you’ll get fatter.”
Katie smiled, she punched me playfully, it was good to see her smile.”Seb’, you are correct, I’m sorry about how I behaved. I just didn’t know what to do. I was pissed off with her and with her father for not being here. I shouldn’t have shouted at her. I shouldn’t have called her an addict. Where is her father? Why do I have to deal with this, why do I have to make all the decisions?”
“Katie, you’re a mother. Sometimes mothers see their kids in a different way than everyone else.” I continued on. “Katie, I’ll make a decision for you, in fact, I’ll make more than one şişli escort decision. Don’t go into the office, take the day off. Stay home and cook a special dinner for the kids. Bake something, so when she walks in the door, she sees a happy mum – a happy supportive family. Then if that doesn’t work then I’ll arrange counselling and I’ll find out where that crack pipe came from. I just know it won’t be ‘Bec’s.”
Katie sat there looking at me, processing what I said. Then, she stood up and hugged me, not a mummy hug, but a big spine crushing hug. I could feel the stress melt from Katie. “Seb, I am so lucky to have you.”
“Katie, one more decision I’ll make for you today. Give me a kiss and say, ‘everything will be all right, Bec is a good girl.'”
Katie didn’t hesitate, she kissed me without thinking, and this wasn’t a mummy kiss, it was a hungry passionate kiss. She didn’t say ‘everything would be all right,’ she just kept on kissing me and holding me tight, very tight. She looked at me, was she questioning why I was bothering to help her, to help her family? I could just walk away and leave her to sort out this mess on her own, but here I was by her side, I had her back, I was doing Terence’s job, I was the father, the husband.
Katie ran her fingers across my cheek. She paused and whispered a command, “I’m going to clean my teeth and then you are coming upstairs, I’m going to thank you in a very special way.” She squeezed at my crotch. As she skipped away she said, “Don’t come upstairs until I call.”
What the hell just happened! Am I going to fuck this woman? I could hear her upstairs. Her discarded shoes clunked on the floor, the shower running. I kept myself busy; I swept up the muffin mess, I paced about the kitchen, I rinsed coffee cups, I straightened magazines. I ran the vacuum to blot out any trace of her preparation. I tried to calm my breathing. Finally, I got the call, “Seb’, I’m ready.”
I didn’t sprint, I forced myself to walk calmly. Katie was waiting for me at the top of the stairs, I drank her in. This mother of three was no longer distraught, she’d morphed into a mix of Jayne Mansfield and Sandra Bullock. Her strawberry blonde hair was tied with a black ribbon. Her deep red lips parted into a smile to show her straight white teeth. She wore a full length black negligee that hugged every curve, her pale skin gleamed against the dark silk. The red polish on her toes matched her lipstick. I stopped with my foot on the first step, staring and feasting on this sexy vamp. Katie turned and flicked her hair as she slinked towards the bedroom. I took the rest of the stairs two at a time.
I stopped at the bedroom door, not to have second thoughts, just to get my socks and shoes off. I fumbled with the socks, Yep, I hate socks. I tugged the hoodie over my head and gawked at Katie reclining on the bed. The hem of her black lace negligee puddled around her thighs, she beckoned me closer with a sirens smile. She inched the negligee higher, revealing more porcelain skin and a tiny black g string. Wow, she looked wonderful, she looked so sexy. I’d never seen such gorgeous lingerie in this house before and certainly not in Katie’s laundry hamper.
I sat on the side of the bed not really knowing how to play this. Should I take advantage of this mum when she was so vulnerable? Why did she want me and not her husband? Bugger her motive, bugger my motives, I’m going to lose myself in this woman
Katie grazed the back of her and across the stubble on my chin and let me kiss at her fingers. She guided my hand to her breast and watched approvingly as I softly squeezed and explored her considerable chest. My woodworker’s fingers looked rough against the pale cream of her skin. I gently kissed her eyelashes, her nose, her chin and those deep red lips. She opened her mouth, drawing my kiss in deeper, I could taste mint and the waxiness of her lipstick. She wrapped her arms around my head and filled my mouth with her tongue. She kissed me like we were a couple on the second day of their honeymoon. She wasn’t in a hurry, she knew what was to come.
She said, “I want you on top. Lie on me.” I lowered myself, my full weight pressing her into the bed. Her hips pushed and I could feel my cock squashed between our bodies. She wrapped me in her arms and legs, she had locked me in so tight that I couldn’t escape. I guessed she wanted to lose herself and all her problems in my strength and size.
“Seb, I want you to Fuck me, I want to be Fucked properly.” She looked so delicate and fragile and vulnerable lying beneath me, but she sounded so confident and in control. Fuck it I thought, this could be disastrous for me, on the other hand it could lead to more than I’d ever bargained for.
She spread her legs and splayed her arms to the side, like a giant pale starfish. I sat back on my heels, taking in her womanly body, her round hips, her hard pink nipples, her obvious desire. I ran my hand up her thigh, across her fluffy damp crotch and down the other thigh. With one arm I gathered her legs at the knees, lifting her hips, I slid down her G-string. I slid it down over her knees and ankles until it was free. I ran the G-string across the sole of her foot and through her toes, the delicate lace teasing at her feet. Katie squirmed as it tickled her. I dragged the underwear up the inside of her thigh and across her rosy opening.