Request from Angela

Julia stared at the ringing phone in her hand, Angela’s smiling photo lighting up the screen like a lifeline—or a complication. The headmaster’s threat still pulsed in the open messages tab below, but she couldn’t ignore her oldest daughter. She swiped to answer, forcing her voice steady.

“Hi, sweetie.”

“Mom! Hey—thank God you picked up.” Angela’s voice was bright but rushed, the background noise of campus chatter filtering through. “I totally spaced this morning and left my laptop on my desk at home. I have a huge presentation in like forty-five minutes and all my slides are on it. Can you grab it and bring it to campus? Please? I’ll owe you forever.”

Julia’s stomach twisted. She glanced at the dashboard clock—barely 8:30. The headmaster’s deadline loomed, Riley’s eggplant emoji still mocking her from the thread, and the last thing she needed was another detour. “Angela, honey, I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“Please, Mom? I’m begging. I can’t miss this. And after class we can go out to lunch like the old days—just you and me, no siblings, no drama. I’ll even let you pick the place. Come on, you know you miss our long talks.”

Julia closed her eyes for a second, guilt and maternal instinct winning out over panic. Angela was the easy one, the responsible one, the daughter who still looked at her like she hung the moon. Saying no felt like another small betrayal in a morning already full of them.

“Fine,” she sighed. “I’ll grab it. Text me where to meet you on campus.”

“You’re the best! Thank you, thank you! Love you!”

The call ended. Julia set the phone in the cupholder, exhaled sharply, and turned the car toward home. The drive back felt shorter than it should have, every red light a chance for her mind to spiral: the headmaster’s gallery growing, Riley potentially texting him right now, Nick’s massive cock and that photo of her in the shower still searing her memory.

She pulled into the driveway, killed the engine, and hurried inside through the garage. The house was unnaturally quiet—no Riley (still at school), no Michelle (probably upstairs cleaning), no Nick (supposed to be in class). She took the stairs two at a time, heading straight for Angela’s room. The laptop sat exactly where Angela said—on the desk, charger plugged in. Julia snatched it, tucking it under her arm.

As she turned to leave, a low, unmistakable sound drifted from Nick’s room down the hall: a soft, rhythmic moan, breathy and ****.

“…Mom… oh fuck, Mom…”

Julia froze in the hallway, blood roaring in her ears. The door to Nick’s room was cracked open—just enough for her to see him sprawled on his bed, shorts shoved down, hand wrapped around that enormous cock she’d glimpsed that morning. His eyes were squeezed shut, head thrown back against the pillow, hips bucking into his fist as he moaned her name again, louder this time, lost in whatever fantasy had him skipping school entirely.

She backed away on silent feet, heart slamming so hard she thought it might crack a rib. The laptop nearly slipped from her grip; she clutched it tighter and retreated down the stairs, praying he hadn’t heard her, hadn’t opened his eyes and seen her standing there witnessing his private shame.

She burst out the front door, locked it behind her with shaking hands, and practically ran to the Urus. She tossed the laptop onto the passenger seat, started the engine, and peeled out of the driveway, pulse still thundering, the image of her son stroking himself to thoughts of her burned into her mind like the rest of the morning’s sins.

She didn’t look back.