Shame On Sarah Read online

  Shame On Sarah

  Shame On Sarah

  Midpoint

  Shame on Sarah

  Shame on Sarah

  By Lenore Love

  Copyright 2015 by Lenore Love

  Smashwords Edition Copyright 2016 by Lenore Love

  All rights reserved

  Cover is stock photography and used with permission.

  All characters are over eighteen, and no blood relations are involved.

  Shame On Sarah

  The check-engine light popped on as Sarah McKenzie pulled the black Bimmer into the dormitory parking lot.

  Great, she thought.

  It was Frank's car, but her soon-to-be ex was out of the country and she was annoyed that she got stuck picking up his kid. It was two hundred miles round-trip from the house to the private college that Chris attended, and if the car broke down during the course of it, she was going to be righteously pissed.

  She pulled up in front of Chris' building, but the boy wasn't waiting outside as expected. Her annoyance grew. They were running behind, and it getting dark. Driving at night never bothered her, but the campus was in the middle of nowhere, and there were a lot of back roads to drive before they hit the Interstate.

  Sarah came to a stop, wondering if she dared turn off the motor.

  She left the engine running, climbed out, and leaned against the front of the car. It was late spring, and she breathed deeply of the fresh, cool air. A couple of boys -- young men, she supposed -- walked by, and both of them stared longer than they should have, but Sarah was flattered anyway. She took great pains to keep herself in shape. Her stomach was flat, her legs were long and supple, and her breasts were firm and full. She knew she looked good in the short black skirt and tight pink blouse.

  How did the boys say it? A MILF.

  "Hello," she said, smiling.

  "Hello, ma'am," one of them replied.

  Sarah didn't particularly care for that, but she didn't know what else they'd call her and still be polite.

  "You wouldn't know a Chris McKenzie, would you?"

  "No, ma'am," the same young man said. "If he lives in this building, they'd have his room number in the office."

  They kept walking. Sarah watched the young man nudge his friend, and both of them laughed.

  Sarah sighed. She didn't know Chris' room number and she couldn't leave the car running while she checked at the office. She would have used her cell to call him, but it was charging in the Beemer. She was stuck waiting, and she wasn't happy about it.

  Sarah thought about Chris.

  She hadn't seen him in almost a year, now. He had been seventeen when he left home and had celebrated his eighteenth right here without them. She and Frank had been in a downward spiral at that point, and Chris had actually called and told them to stay home, that he didn't want them around.

  Frank had been hurt and angry, but Sarah had been relieved. She hadn't blamed the boy at all. The constant bickering got on her nerves, too. Chris had been twelve when she and Frank got married, and throughout the years, she'd always seen him as the type who always kowtowed to authority. When he'd taken a stand about his birthday, she'd been impressed. Maybe keeping her waiting was another example of that.

  The lobby door swung open and Chris emerged, carrying a suitcase and wearing a backpack, dressed in running shorts, sandals, and a tank top. Sarah was surprised. He'd grown a couple of inches, and filled out a little. His muscles were small and compact on his wiry frame, but they were also lean and hard. His blond hair needed trimming, and he sported some stubble.

  Overall, he looked good, she thought.

  "Hey, Sarah," he said, coming down the steps.

  Sarah smiled inwardly; he never had called her Mom.

  "Hello yourself."

  "Sorry I'm late."

  Sarah reached into the car and popped the trunk. Chris threw his bags inside, and then slammed the lid shut. They stared at each other for a moment and smiled. Sarah was a couple inches taller than he in her heels, and she leaned down and pecked him on the cheek. His arms went around her and he gave her a hug, pressing his body against hers as he stretched up and pecked her on the lips.

  Sarah felt something stir down below, and pulled away quickly. Maybe it was because she was fed up with Frank, or maybe it was from not having been held in three months -- either way, she was confused and dismayed by her reaction.

  Whoa, girlfriend, she thought, heart beating hard. Easy there.

  "You look good, Sarah," he said.

  She blinked. "You, too."

  He arched his eyebrows. "Why'd you leave the car running?"

  "The check engine light came on. I was afraid to turn it off."

  He waved a hand. "It probably would've started up just fine."

  His off-hand dismissiveness irritated her; it was so like Frank. Sarah almost said something, and then closed her mouth. They had a long way to go together, and there was no point in starting off on the wrong foot. Her pussy continued to tingle, however, and she tried to ignore it.

  They climbed in and Sarah drove off. Chris turned on the radio and punched the dial until he found a station he liked. Soft, smoky music floated into Sarah's ears. Again, she was surprised.

  "Since when did you start listening to jazz?"

  Chris shrugged. "My tastes have expanded since I came up here." He smiled at her. "And, I know it's something you like."

  Chris was thinking of her, and Sarah appreciated it. Frank had never really cared what she liked, jazz least of all. Her original annoyance faded. She glanced over at her stepson, noticing his big blue eyes and the way his lean cheeks curved strongly down into his firm jaw.

  Chris shifted in his seat, spreading his legs a little bit, trying to get comfortable. His package jiggled noticeably in his shorts -- something fluttered deep down in Sarah's stomach, and her nipples hardened. She jerked her eyes back to the road, and pressed her legs together.

  Jesus, Sarah thought. What's going on here?

  She cleared her throat uncomfortably.

  "I'm sorry your dad couldn't pick you up."

  "I'm not. He's an asshole. When you guys got married, I made a bet with myself on how long it'd last."

  "You must have won."

  He shook his head. "I lost. You put up with his shit a lot longer than I thought you would."

  Yes, Sarah thought. I did.

  Her regard for Chris went up another notch. He'd matured a lot during his time away. But maybe, that maturity had been there all along and she'd just never recognized it -- or, she thought, he had kept it hidden, trying to insulate himself from the inevitable. She suddenly felt sorry for what he must have endured all these years.

  "But don't feel bad, Sarah," he said, as if reading her mind. "We're both better off without him around."

  "Chris, please don't hate your father."

  "I don't," he said softly. "I don't feel anything for him."

  His words pierced her heart, and she rested a hand on his thigh. His quads were warm and firm, the hair on them a fine blond silk.

  "You know that's not true."

  They continued to drive, listening to the music. The piano's muted chords were sensual in the Bimmer's tight cockpit, like the glow of the orange dash lights on her tanned face. Dark had fallen, and the country road curved and twisted; even her high beams seemed of little use. She slowed down in the curves, but there was still no seeing around them.

  Sarah glanced over at Chris for a moment. He was absently rubbing his crotch the way teenage boys do, not even aware he was doing it. She saw a slight bulge, and her eyes widened. She wondered how big he was, and was immediately disgusted with herself.

  "Deer!" Chris yelled suddenly, grabbing the dashboard.

  It wasn't just one,
it was several, spread across both lanes

  Sarah plowed into the herd, the bone-shattering impact jarring her teeth together, the crunching of metal and fiberglass frighteningly loud. A carcass rolled over the hood and slammed against the windshield -- Sarah cried out, instinctively throwing her hands up in front of her face. The road ahead was plunged into sudden blackness. She lost control and skidded into the ditch on the opposite side, the sudden stop just as jolting as the initial impact.

  They sat there in stunned silence, listening to steam from the shattered radiator hissing loudly, and then Chris drew in his breath.

  "Well, now," he said softly, staring through the cracked windshield. "That was a fucking rush."

  "I'll say," Sarah whispered, and choked back a sob.

  "Hey," he said quickly, unbuckling his seat belt and leaning over. "You okay?"

  She nodded shakily. "How about you?"

  "Yeah," Chris muttered, and shook his head. "Jesus Christ."

  Sarah tried to open her door, but it was sprung shut. Chris's door wouldn't budge. He nodded to himself and then struggled between the front seats, jogging shorts riding up high on his rump. Sarah caught a glimpse of his scrotum -- He's not wearing underwear! -- and turned away quickly, shocked and embarrassed.

  "I could use a push," Chris said evenly.

  Reluctantly, she shoved. Chris' butt was hard and round, and Sarah squeezed it reflexively as he rolled over into the backseat.

  I just copped a feel on my son, she thought in disbelief.

  Chris tried the door and it opened without a problem.

  "You need some help getting back here?" he asked.

  "I don't know."

  Sarah twisted her body forward and started climbing between the front seats. Her blouse rolled up, exposing her stomach. Her skirt rode high, and she felt coolness on her bottom. She was wearing panties, but they were cut high on the hip, and she knew she was displaying a great deal as she wriggled.

  If Chris noticed, he gave no sign. He merely reached up and gripped her under the arms, one of his hands brushing her breast. Her nipple instantly swelled from the contact.

  Was that on purpose?

  Chris pulled, and Sarah slid into the back seat on top of him.

  Their faces were only inches apart, and his warm breath caressed her cheeks. She stared into Chris' eyes, her breasts flattened on his chest, their loins crushed together, and she felt his penis begin to harden against her vulva. A wave of conflicting emotions washed across her. Her heart beat rapidly, and she knew it wasn't just from the accident.

  Sarah crawled off him quickly and stood up outside the car, straightening her clothes, trying to do the same with her thoughts. Her cheeks burned, her heart still raced, and her goddamn nipples were as big and hard as the diamond ring she still wore on her finger.

  Chris crawled out, and the two of them walked around to the front. They sighed together -- it was clear the Bimmer wasn't going anywhere. Two bloody dead deer lay off to one side of the road, one of them still twitching reflexively. Chris pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

  "Shit," he muttered, holding it up. "No service. Remind me to change my carrier."

  He quickly snapped some pictures of the damage, then put his phone away.

  "What now?" Sarah said.

  He sighed. "Well, I think we passed some sort of motel a couple miles back. They probably have a landline we could use."

  Sarah remembered seeing a splash of light at one point but hadn't really been paying attention.

  "That's a long way."

  "Not really," he said. "But your feet will blister in those high heels. And you can't walk that far barefoot. Not in the dark."

  "Well, I'm not staying here."

  Chris grinned. "I'll piggy-back you."

  Sarah grinned, too. "Like hell you will. C'mon."

  Chris grabbed the keys out of the ignition and locked the car. They hadn't even walked a hundred yards before Sarah's feet and ankles were cramping. The heels were a size smaller than necessary, and they pinched her toes unmercifully. She sat down in the grass by the shoulder and pulled them off, not caring that she was displaying plenty of leg.

  "Damn," she said, rubbing her feet.

  "Told you."

  "Nobody likes a know-it-all."

  "Oh, c'mon," he said, smiling crookedly. "You like me just a little bit, don't you?"

  "Only a little."

  Chris crouched down and stared at her. "All aboard."

  "This is ridiculous," Sarah said.

  She slipped on her shoes and stood up, and then climbed onto his back.

  "Oh my fucking God!" he exclaimed, and grunted loudly.

  "You goof," Sarah said, and giggled.

  She wriggled to get comfortable, and Chris shifted her weight. He stood up without straining, and they set out.

  Sarah couldn't help but admire his strength. His breathing was slow and steady as he carried her effortlessly beside the road. Sweat had broken out on his skin, but that was the only sign of strain. Sarah weighed one-hundred-and-twenty pounds on the nose, so she knew she was no lightweight, but he manhandled her as if she were only a feather.

  Sarah didn't like admitting it, but her stepson did feel good to hold. His wiry body was lean and hard, and his hands gripping her lower thighs were warm and strong. Her nipples were once again erect, and she wondered if he could feel them pushing against her bra. The material was lacy, and didn't conceal much. Her pussy tingled as it rubbed his tailbone, and she could feel his muscular butt flexing beneath it.

  Sarah sighed contentedly. She was becoming aroused in a dreamy sort of way, but didn't try to fight it. She'd never felt or thought about Chris in this manner, and shame was mixed with excitement as her hormones fought for control. She rested her head on his shoulder, and experienced a sudden urge to kiss it.

  You perverted slut, she thought.

  She hadn't realized just how lonely she'd been. The night and the silence held her like a secret lover, and Sarah was lost in its intimate embrace. Her damp pussy grew wetter, and she was suddenly afraid of leaving a spot on his shirt.

  Chris shifted her weight, and now his hands were gripping higher beneath her thighs. He squeezed them gently, and she wriggled her pubis involuntarily, leaking into her panties. She stifled a low moan.

  God, she thought dazedly. Has he noticed yet?

  They rounded a corner, and the motel appeared -- a cheap-looking single-story affair with the office in the middle and the rooms facing the parking lot. Sarah wondered what was going on behind some of those doors. Several lot lights glowed softly, illuminating six or so parked cars.

  Chris halted in the driveway and Sarah slid off, wincing when her sore feet touched the ground. Chris straightened up with a groan -- the first sound he had made -- and Sarah heard his spine pop loudly. He rubbed his lower back.

  "You okay?" she asked anxiously.

  "A little sore. How's your feet?"

  "They hurt."

  "I'm sorry."

  They walked up to the office and peered through the window. A clock on the wall behind the desk read ten. There was no one behind the desk, but lights were burning and the door was unlocked. They stepped up to the counter, and Chris dinged the service bell with the flat of his hand. A man appeared in the open doorway behind the desk, and smiled at them.

  "Evenin', folks. How you doing?"

  "Not so good," Chris said. "We had an accident. Hit a deer."

  "Several, more like," Sarah said dryly.

  Her panties were tacky, and she shifted slightly. She hoped nobody could smell her soiled undies like she could.

  "Gosh," the man exclaimed, genuinely concerned. "Are you folks all right?"

  "We are," Chris said, "but the car's not. We need a tow."

  "Well, there ain't anybody local I could call this time of night. How about your insurance company?"

  "Damn," Sarah said.

  Any paperwork with phone numbers was in the glove box. They could Google t
he number, but she had no idea who the provider was anyway. Frank changed insurance companies like he changed his shoes, and she didn't expect Chris to walk back there again. She knew he was sore; he must certainly be tired, as well.

  "Well," the manager said. "I'd give you a lift, but I can't leave the desk."

  "We understand," Sarah said.

  "I can call the County Sheriff. That way, they won't tow your car. But they're not liable to do much until tomorrow morning as long as the road's clear."

  "The road's clear," Sarah said.

  "Guess we're stuck here for the night," Chris said.

  Sarah hadn't planned on this eventuality. She had no change of clothes, no toothbrush or paste, no shampoo or soap, no pajamas. The last wouldn't be an issue if they got separate rooms, however, and she really thought that they should.

  "I've got lots of rooms," the manager said. "Only charge you half. You need one or two?"

  "Damn," Sarah said again.

  Her pocketbook with her credit cards was in the glove box, too. Chris looked at her and smiled faintly. He pulled a crumpled bill from his shorts and opened it up.

  "I got twenty bucks."

  "I'll pay you back first thing in the morning," Sarah said quickly.

  "Don't worry about it," Chris said.

  The manager looked amused. "That'll get you one."

  So much for Christian charity, Sarah thought sourly.

  But then he surprised her when he reached beneath the counter and produced a mini tube of toothpaste, and two new brushes wrapped in cellophane.

  "On the house," he said, and smiled. "There's shampoo and soap in the room."

  "Thank you," Sarah said gratefully.

  "Can we have a room on the end, away from the others?" Chris asked.

  That's weird, Sarah thought. Why does he care what room we get?

  Evidently the manager thought so, too, because he gave Chris a look. And then, he pushed a key across the counter and shrugged.

  "Enjoy your stay. I'll call the sheriff right away."

  "Thanks," Chris said.

  Chris held her hand as they walked to their room, and Sarah didn't resist. She knew she should pull away, but she couldn't. His grip was firm and confident, just like the rest of him, and again, she marveled over how much he'd changed in a year. She wondered if he was a virgin, and doubted it; he was entirely too sure of himself. She couldn't believe it when she felt a stab of jealousy, and she was both dismayed and ashamed.