She begins to walk after me out of the room, staying weirdly close on my heels as if she’s afraid of being alone down here, but she stops just inside the doorway.

“John, wait.” There’s no mistaking the fear in her voice.

I turn from where I am, about to place my foot on the fourth step. My wife is pressing and banging on the air of the doorway like she’s a mime pretending she can’t get through. I smile at her joke until I recognize the panic on her face.

“What is going on? Help me.”

I shrug. “I guess Mother wants you to stay there for now.”

“Mother? Who the hell is Mother?”

“Now you’re the one swearing in front of Johnny.”

“Let us out, John.”

As I focus on her hand that can’t pass the threshold of the room, a slight shimmer flashes in the air again. “It’s not up to me, Meisha.” I continue up the stairs.

Johnny responds to his mommy’s distress and starts crying.

“Don’t leave us, John. Help us! Please!” Her voice is nearing a screech and breaks with her tears.

“I’ll come check on you later.”

“John. Help. Please. Please! Help!”

I reach the top of the stairs, shut the door behind me, and breathe a sigh of relief when I can no longer hear them. A tear rolls down my cheek. I never wanted them to suffer like this. Why wasn’t the room Mother so lovingly prepared for them enough for her?

I sniff and wipe the tear from my face. My grief begins to melt, and I surprise myself by shrugging. You can’t please everyone, I guess. I certainly couldn’t ask for a better room for Johnny to play in.

“What’s wrong, John?”

I lift my head. Mother stands before me, batting her eyes as if blinking back empathetic tears, her lips pursed in a pout.

“What can Mother help you with, my sweet John?” She ambles over, the stiletto heels of her boots clipping on the wooden floor. She caresses my cheek with a warm, soft hand.

I lean my face into her palm and release a deep sigh. My body relaxes. Mother really does make everything better. “I just don’t understand why Meisha is so unhappy.”

“Hmmm.” Mother shakes her head. “Let’s just give her some time. Change is hard.”

Something else is definitely hard. I inhale her intoxicating scent, a musky mixture of campfire and vanilla. My eyes drift to the crease between the smooth, soft mounds of her breasts. I want to bury my face between them.

“Looks like John needs something from Mother.” She brushes a hand over the taut crotch of my pants making me moan lightly. “All in due time. I have a requirement from you first. And while you take care of something I need,” she lifts my hand and places a full cocktail glass in my palm, “I’ll prepare a delightful meal for Meisha and your perfect little boy.” Her red-stained lips form a loving smile.

“What can I do for you, Mother?” I bring the drink to my mouth and sip.

The addicting liquid glides down my throat. It makes my knees weak and my groin ache. I would fall at her feet and worship there forever if she would only keep my cup full. My back is proof of my devotion, and I would willingly endure more pain for her.

The whites of her eyes turn dark while a fire lights up her irises. She licks those red lips of hers.

“You’re almost there, John. You’re getting so close.” Her voice is soft and sensual. “Give in a little more. Soon you and Mother will be together forever. Once you give Mother what she needs.”

She tilts her head back, arching her spine and hips like a woman experiencing an absolutely exquisite orgasm. A low sound of pleasure trickles from her throat.

“What do you need, Mother?” I breathe. The unknowing is torment.

She coaxes my hand with the glass to my lips once more. It’s becoming increasingly difficult to savor it and not gulp the whole thing down in a swallow or two. I want more. I need more. I will do anything for more.

“For tonight, I need you to bring me an animal.”

I crease my forehead in a confused frown. “An animal?”

“Yes. I believe your neighbors have a dog, don’t they? That would work perfectly. Go next door and fetch the dog.” She holds out a leash and small collar encouragingly. “I’ll be in the kitchen.”

I take the items with just a tinge of hesitancy. My stomach does a tiny flip, telling me that nothing good will come of this.

But, Mother takes care of me. She wouldn’t ask me to do anything horrible. Would she?

“Remember, John,” she points to the cocktail I hold, “you get what you want when you obey.”

“Yes, Mother.”

I take a deep breath to steel myself. This is just a test of loyalty, and I intend to come through for Her. I trod to the front door with determination.

“And, John?”

I stop and turn to meet her sultry, fiery eyes, glinting mischievously.

“When you enter this house again, please remove your clothes. You are Mother’s little pet.”

“Yes, Mother.”

* * *

I step outside into a sunny afternoon. My eyes squint against the bright light. I hadn’t realized how dark it was in the house.

Rather than waste time walking down the long driveway and taking the road toward the neighbor’s house, I cut across the fields. The grass is tall and tickles my fingertips as my arms sway back and forth.

When I was growing up, only the yard in front of the house was ever kept mowed and manicured. The fields around and to the sides were allowed to grow wild.

I remember playing hide and seek in the field when the grass was tall. It was fun to see if you could army crawl far away from the seeker without getting caught.

No one was playing hide and seek with me, but I was still practicing my army crawl through the grass when I found them that day.

I stop and shake my head, realizing I had completely blocked that from my memory for the past couple of years. It’s only beginning to come back to me now. A shiver chills my skin despite the bright, warm orb overhead.

After that day, I didn’t play in the tall grass with anyone else, but I did often go by myself. Part of me hoped it would happen again. And I couldn’t go more than a few feet into the field without getting a raging erection.

The reality of just how often I masturbated as a child and teenager smacks me like a brick to the face, making my cheeks burn. The field, the foyer, the study, the laundry room: everything, everywhere made me so throbbing hard. On an average day, I would yank myself three to four times just to be able to see straight. It was always necessary at night if I wanted to sleep.