Chapter Ten
"When was the first time you knew?" Ella Randall reemerged from the bathroom, a dixie cup full of mouthwash in her hand. She gargled at the threshold between the bedroom and the john.
She was naked. Claude watched her body, the slight movement of flesh as she stood, her head back. Her tits were hard, and her cunt was wet -- she had just showered, and the towel had left behind beads of water on the silky hair. She turned and he could hear her inside the bathroom. She came out again, her hands at her sides, the fingers moving puppet-like. She was nervous, more nervous than when they had begun the affair, he noticed.
"A couple of years ago. That was when I started putting it together."
"Was Elaine always that bad?"
"Not at first, I guess. At least I didn't hate her, then." He thought a moment. "I don't know, really. I can't remember when I liked her, if I ever did."
"They've been together a couple of years?"
"Yeah."
Ella eased down on the bed. She pressed her toes against the rug and leaned back. Her fingers ran down the center of his smooth chest. "You don't have to be with them, you know."
Claude's expression was quizzical. "What do you mean?"
"You must have relatives. Someone who would help you. The courts would agree in a second."
"It would hurt Mom. I wouldn't want to do that." He waited a moment. "Besides, that would mean I hate what I am. I like it with guys. So what's so wrong if my mother likes it with women?"
Ella wondered at his hard, tough character. Her hand swept across his stomach, and the cock, which she had brought to orgasm two times before this afternoon, began to spring to life. She dosed her fist around the prick and gently rubbed. She tightened the grip, and his penis became less rubbery.
She went down on him, bringing her legs up to the bed and stretching them out as she took the scrotum in her mouth. The wet switch of the tongue against the balls excited him, and he jammed the prick forward against her cheeks while she drilled the hidden base of the shaft with her lower teeth...
"Mrs. Parkins?" Irene nodded.
"My name is Ella Randall, I'm Claude's teacher."
"Oh, yes," Irene replied enthusiastically, extending her hand. "Claude mentions you often. He says you've really helped him with his math." She paused for a moment. "That isn't why you've come, is it? He isn't still having trouble with it. He said he was improving..."
Ella shook her head and smiled. She looked about the apartment for details that would flesh out Claude's stories of his childhood and adolescence. On the whole, it looked to be a normal household. She glanced at the face of her watch. She reminded herself that she must leave before either Elaine or Claude returned home for dinner. She didn't want him to think she was conspiring against him. Lately she had almost begun to fear his reactions to things she would say or do. His reactions were almost always surprising -- and almost always intense. There was a genuineness to his feelings that complemented the force of his convictions.
"Claude seems to be an awfully unhappy child," she said, and she realized instantly that she had stated her case too quickly and too abruptly. She tried to stifle her sense of failure with curiosity as to how the shock treatment would work on Irene Parkins. She settled into the couch and crossed her legs. Irene had asked her whether she wanted coffee, and she had said yes, but now Claude's mother leaned against an upholstered chair and sat down. She stared at her tap and then faced Ella.
"I..." She stopped. Her eyes seemed to be appealing to Ella, and the teacher responded with empathy.
"Perhaps I was too abrupt, Mrs. Parkins."
Irene looked away, lost in thought. "I've tried..." Her voice trailed off. "Is he... very unhappy?"
"I don't think that he is consciously so. He seems very well-adjusted to his situation here. But certain things he has said -- if I can take the liberty of saying this; please understand that I am not here in any official capacity, but only as Claude's friend -- indicate that this is not a usual living arrangement."
Irene's face went a deep pink. She groped for words, her heart beating fast. Ella could trace the agony in the movement of her tightening lips as they twisted against each other.
"Do you think it would be better if he were... somewhere else?"
Irene Parkins was more receptive than she had hoped.
The picture Claude had painted of his mother's relationship to Elaine must have been reasonably true.
The dominant "butch" lesbian and weak, compliant Irene Parkins.
"There are facilities, of course. Where he could get therapy to work out some of his problems. If you want, I could make an investigation into those schools. Some are state-run, and they wouldn't cost you anything. You could see Claude as often as you wished. It wouldn't be as if you were losing each other." She paused. She did not realize she was wringing her hands as she spoke to Claude's anguished mother. "It might help your own situation."
"I'll think about it, Mrs. Randall, I will. I promise you that."
"Yes?" Ella put the receiver to her ear and placed the paperback down on the nightstand. It was Saturday morning, and the sunlight was blocked by the Venetian blinds. She looked at the alarm clock. It was eleven; there were things she had to do today.
"Mrs. Randall, this is Elaine Webberman. I live with Irene Parkins." The voice was stern, even defiant.
"Yes." Ella nodded, her eyes cast down as she tried to anticipate the next step in the conversation.
"I have to see you."
"What about?" Ella realized at once that her own response had been too harsh. She was determined to agree to the meeting, in any case.
"It's about Claude." There was a pause. "But you know that."
"Yes. I see. Do you want to come here?"
"Will that be all right?" The lesbian, obviously relieved, was almost amiable.
"Certainly. Can you come in about an hour?"
Ella fidgeted away the time between the telephone call and Elaine's arrival. She wondered what the woman would be like, tried to guess the appearance from her slightly gruff telephone voice. Irene Parkins had been surprisingly "normal" in appearance.
She was surprised that Irene Parkins' lover was attractive as a woman. She took care to de-emphasize her femininity, but the lines of her body were full and graceful. Her facial features were strong and well crafted; her skin was good.
"Come in, please," Ella offered and stepped back as the tall woman moved inside her apartment. "Sit down." Ella found the nearest chair and sat tense while Ella asked if she wanted anything to drink. She shook her head.
"All right," Ella said, sitting on the couch and facing her across a coffee table. "If there's anything I can do, I told Irene I would be glad to help. I'm really only interested in the child and what is best for him -- whatever that turns out to be."
"I don't want Claude sent away, if that's what you mean."
Ella did not hide her concern. "Why not? If I can be quite frank, you haven't shown him a great deal of love yourself, and you've opposed his mother's efforts to shelter him from certain facts of life."
"Claude needs his mother. And I need his mother. We may not be a particularly happy family, but we're a family. There is no real reason we should be apart. What we're doing is not against the law."
"There are statutes that do cover situations in which the morals of a minor are corrupted." Ella tried to sound as unthreatening as possible; Elaine could not know it, but she had no wish to go out on a limb. She saw an essential difference in her relationship with the boy.
Elaine sulked. Her eyes were glassy with unreleased tears when she exchanged glances with Ella Randall. "I am afraid..." Her voice broke. "I am afraid... I will lose Irene."