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Gator Tail Trailer Park No. 3
by Bo Dunne
Artwork by Moira Nelligar
(previously published as “A Knightly Ride”)
Trisha stepped out of the shower in the little bathroom of her single-wide mobile home. She opened the door to let out the steam and ran a brush through her dishwater blonde hair, even though the mirror was fogged up. Her shampoo and conditioner left her with a light, fruity aroma. The hot water relaxed her tired muscles after a routine Saturday as a housekeeper at the Happy Rocket Motel, a half-hour’s drive up the two-lane blacktop in rural Florida.
As the mirror slowly cleared, she looked at her own sad green eyes. She was forty-three years old, her face heart-shaped and not very lined. However, she was short and naturally full-bodied, with 38D boobs and an expanding butt. Her husband of twenty-two years had left her for a woman who was younger, prettier, and probably blew him whenever he wanted. It was too late now, but she hadn’t blown him in years. For too long, she had taken him for granted, and now he was gone. She lived with their son, Lucas, who was a high school student preparing for his SAT a week from today.
To keep cool, Trisha decided to air-dry. She pulled on a long, white T-shirt with a faded University of Florida logo on the front. It represented a hope for Lucas, who was always the greatest treasure in her life.
She never went to college, but she knew Lucas would probably be accepted at good universities. However, he could only go if he received enough financial aid. Once he was successful enough, maybe he could buy her a real house someday, away from this trailer park. Certainly her job as a motel housekeeper would never get her out of here, though she might be able to keep up her modest expenses. She would never get out on her own, now that her ex-husband was gone with his new girl.
Her son hadn’t taken school seriously until he flunked the ninth grade. After that, he had worked hard enough to good grades, but taking the ninth grade a second time meant he was now a nineteen-year-old high school senior. She had been pushing him about his grades and his SAT because she would never take any guy for granted again, for any reason.
“Lucas? You want a sandwich?” Trisha called out. She tugged down the T-shirt, which clung to her damp boobs, showing her nipples clearly, and stuck to her butt. At least the T-shirt came down far enough to cover her bush. That was all she cared about.
She was surprised not to hear an answer from her son. After all, teenaged boys were always hungry. “I’m making ham and cheese with gherkins for myself. You want one?”
With droplets of water on her arms and fleshy thighs, Trisha walked barefoot down the hall to the living room. Rural Florida in March had idyllic weather, as long as the house had screens on the windows to keep out mosquitoes and fans to keep the air moving.
The little dining table held his laptop, which was way too old, and some beat-up books on preparing for the SAT, which he had bought online fairly cheap. His chair was still pulled out, but he was nowhere in sight.
When she glanced down the hall toward his bedroom, at the opposite end from her room, she saw that his bathroom door was ajar with steam drifting out. She padded down the hall and was about to call his name again when she was startled into silence.
Lucas had just stepped out of the shower, but he was toweling his hair and didn’t see her. He was nude and stood at an angle toward the door. Taller than his father, he had the same broad shoulders and flat abs she remembered from when she had met his dad at the same age Lucas was now. Her son was muscular from working out with weights and jogging.
Trisha couldn’t help letting her gaze move down to his cock, swaying with the motion of rubbing the towel over his hair. His balls also swung as she watched. Her breath caught and a tingle of adrenaline ran through her. For a moment, she seemed to be in the distant past again.
Then, before she realized it, he lowered the towel and saw her. “Oh, hi, Mom.” He tied the towel at his waist casually, with merely the slightest grin of light-hearted embarrassment.