The Sweetest Revenge

But then, Dakota tosses her sweater on the floor, and slides her hands back down until she reaches the button of her jeans. My eyes are glued to her every move as my chest rises and falls rapidly. I’m practically hyperventilating right now, and it’s shameful but I don’t care. I know I should tell her to stop. She’s my son’s girlfriend, and this is wrong, but for the life of me, I can’t find the strength.

Wriggling a bit, she flicks the button on her jeans open, and then slowly pushes them down her legs and steps out of the denim. I can’t stop the groan that comes from my throat when she stands back up because this woman is the picture of perfection. Her skin is a delectable sweet cream, and brown curls fall over her shoulders, just grazing the swell of her breasts like they’re intentionally trying to draw my eyes there. I literally pant, gazing at the soft flesh of her décolletage, wondering what’s underneath that lace.

But then her fingers find the clasp of her bra, and finally my senses come back to me.

“Stop,” I growl. Her soft brown eyes meet mine, wide and startled, and I slowly shake my head. “Dakota, please. What’s this about? Why are you doing this?”

She drops to her knees, wrapping her arms around herself, and her shoulders begin to shake. Then the sweet girl begins sobbing. Quickly, I grab a blanket from the back of the couch, and wrap it around her shoulders.

“Come on, sweetheart,” I say. “Let’s go sit down and you can tell me what’s really going on.”

She stumbles up, and I keep the blanket held in place around her shoulders as I walk her over to the couch. Once she sits, I take a seat on the loveseat across from her. I don’t rush because she’s still crying and obviously distraught, so I want to give her the space to calm down. Of course, I also need some time to calm myself down, given the stiffness in my pants.

“Would you like a glass of water?” I offer in a kind tone, shifting my thighs to get more comfortable.

She shakes her head no and uses the corner of the blanket to wipe tears from her face. When she looks up, I hate the sadness I see reflected in her eyes, and I want to know who put it there so I can rip them a new one.

“I caught them in bed together.”

Her voice is so quiet I almost don’t hear, so I lean over a little closer. “Who did you catch, Dakota? Who is them?”

Her eyes meet mine and start to fill with tears again. “Eddie, and my – my mom!” She rubs the back of her hand over her eyes to wipe them again. “I walked in on them having sex in my mom’s bed. Can you believe it? Your son and my mother?”

I can barely process this information at first. Really? I know my son has the libido of a teenage boy, but what the hell is wrong with him? I’ve seen Denise Stanton around town a few times, and she’s even come onto me once or twice. She’s attractive enough, but in a hard-baked, middle-aged way. Why the hell would my son want Denise, when he already has her daughter?

Then again, I’m not delusional about the kind of person my son is. It isn’t lost on me that Eddie won’t be winning any humanitarian awards for his empathy towards others. Nor would I put cheating on a girlfriend past him either because Eddie’s got one seriously inflated ego, and a need to have it stroked by anything with legs. But this? Cheating with his girlfriend’s mom and being dumb enough to do it in their house? Well, I guess he’s a bigger idiot than I realized.

I stand up and take the seat next to Dakota.

“Honey, I’m truly sorry about my son. He’s an idiot to cheat on someone as wonderful as you. He doesn’t know what he has, and he’s a fucking douche for doing it with your mom too. But I wouldn’t take it to heart. Teenage boys are ruled by their hormones, and my son is no exception.”

I put my hand on her knee in comfort, and Dakota’s eyes drop to where we touch. I start to pull my hand back, but then she puts her small palm over mine and holds it there.

“After I caught them, I felt terrible,” she says in a low voice. “I started driving around and didn’t even realize I was heading over here until I pulled in your driveway. Then it really hit me.”

She pauses, and I pull my hand from beneath hers and tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me. “I know, sweetheart. The enormity of the situation must have hit you like a ton of bricks. I don’t blame you for wanting to kill that idiot. I’d kill him myself if I could.”