Try to cover his nakedness

At the sight of the older woman, Alex brings his knees up to his chest and wraps his arms around his knees, trying to offer himself some semblance of cover. Not even his own mother would walk in on him while he was bathing — at least, not since he was much younger!

Mrs. Murphy appears unconcerned about Alex’s state of undress or his state of embarassment. She busies herself, putting folded towels in the cupboards, and straightening things up.

Alex clears his throat, trying to think of something appropriate to say, but he finds that his mouth is strangely unresponsive.

At last, it appears Mrs. Murphy is finished and is going to leave, but before she does, she puts a hand to her forehead and exclaims, “My goodness, but I forgot the whole reason I came in here!” She retrieves a fresh washcloth and brings it to Alex.

“You’ll want this, Dear.”

Alex reaches for the washcloth, but Mrs. Murphy takes his hand and clucks her tongue scoldingly as she examines it. “Look at all that dirt under your nails, Alex. That will never do! Why do young men always neglect such things?”

Without waiting for an answer, she retrieves a small brush, pulls up a stool next to the tub, and commences to scrub Alex’s fingertips.

“Thank you, Mrs. — I mean, Mom — but I think I can manage,” protests Alex.

“Not at all, Dear,” she says, continuing right along. “I want you to look presentable for all our customers tomorrow. Having a new apprentice will be a big help, and you want to put your best face forward.”

As she says this, she pinches Alex’s cheek, and then studies his face. “Speaking of which, you haven’t really washed your face at all. What have you been doing all this time in here?”

Alex feels his face growing very warm. Being naked and having Mrs. Murphy this close is definitely a contributor, but so is the memory of what he was doing all this time in the tub — namely, stroking his still-hard cock as he fantasized about Mrs. Murphy’s daughter.

Mrs. Murphy took the washcloth from Alex, dipped it in the bathwater, and began scrubbing his face. Alex attempted to protest, but only got a mouthful of soap for his troubles.

She took hold of his head and pulled it toward her so she could examine behind his ears. Alex pulled his knees up even closer to his chest, feeling very exposed. When she turned his head to check the other ear, he found his nose buried in her cleavage.

Alex never really harbored any kind of Oedipus Complex toward his mother, and consequently never really spent a lot of time fantasizing about older women. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he was already incredibly turned on before Mrs. Murphy burst into the room, but with his face pressed against her bosom, Alex started to have some very impure thoughts about his host mother fly through his head.

After what seemed to be a very long time, Mrs. Murphy released her grip on his head, allowing him to withdraw and regain his breath.

She studies his face with a look of satisfaction. “Much better. A handsome young man like you should display his good looks — not hide behind a layer of dirt!”

“Thank you, ma’am — Mom, I mean,” says Alex. Somehow, thinking of this woman as “Mom” is a little difficult while sporting a boner. “I won’t keep you any longer —“

She cuts him off with an upheld hand as her eyes dart toward his knees, protruding from the water.

“My goodness, Alex! Did your mother not teach you how to take a proper bath? Look at those knees!” With that, she takes the washcloth and begins to scrub away.

Alex clenches his knees together tightly, but Mrs. Murphy is determined, and pries them apart. Alex thrusts his hands over his crotch, hoping she is so focused on her task that she does not see what he is covering up.

“Oh heavens,” says Mrs. Murphy, sensing his embarassment. “I’m old enough to be your mother, Alex. I have a husband, after all. Do you think you have anything I haven’t seen already? There’s no need to be squeamish, Dear.”

Alex gulps as she continues scrubbing away, working her way down one leg and then the other, not neglecting to pull out her scrub brush when she got to his toes.

It’s when it looks like she is going to start working her way upward from the knees that real alarm starts to build in his brain.

“That’s just the way she is,” he tells himself. “Just think of her as my mother!” But the more he tries to do that, the more he sees how much Mrs. Murphy is an older, slightly-more filled-out version of Elaine, and all the thoughts to which he was stroking off to, begin to invade his thinking again, but this time with Mrs. Murphy taking her daughter’s place.