Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Open Window

Alex started sleeping with his door cracked.Not wide—just enough that sound could travel. Enough that he could pretend it was accidental if she ever asked. He told himself it was paranoia. He told himself he wanted to catch her slipping up so he could confront her, scream, make her stop. But deep down he knew the truth was uglier.He wanted to hear.Friday night his father called. The usual check-in: bad connection, promises about next month, questions about school that felt scripted. Elena put him on speaker while she chopped vegetables for stir-fry."How's my favorite girl?" Richard's voice crackled through the phone.Elena smiled at the cutting board. "Missing you, as always."Alex sat at the kitchen table doing homework he wasn't reading. He watched her face. The smile was practiced. Polite. Nothing like the wrecked, open-mouthed ecstasy he'd seen two days earlier."Tell me you're behaving," Richard teased.Elena laughed—light, innocent. "Always."Alex's pen snapped in his hand. Ink bled across the page.After dinner she kissed the top of his head. "I'm meeting some of the girls for wine at Lisa's. Don't wait up, okay?"He nodded without looking at her.She left at eight-thirty wearing a simple black dress that clung in all the wrong-right places. Strappy heels. Hair down. Lipstick the color of fresh sin.Alex waited ten minutes after her car pulled out.Then he went upstairs, opened his bedroom window that overlooked the backyard, and sat in the dark with the lights off.The neighborhood was quiet. Crickets. Distant lawnmower. A dog barking two streets over.At nine-twelve the motion light above the back porch flicked on.Elena slipped through the side gate like she'd done it a dozen times. She wasn't alone.Marcus walked behind her, hand possessive on the small of her back. Another man followed—older, maybe mid-forties, salt-and-pepper hair, broad through the chest. Alex recognized him vaguely: Mr. Callahan from three houses down. The one whose wife taught piano lessons. The one who always waved too long when Elena jogged past in her leggings.They didn't go inside.They stayed in the backyard.Elena kicked off her heels on the grass. The black dress came up and over her head in one fluid motion. Underneath: nothing but a black lace thong and thigh-high stockings. No bra. Her breasts swayed free in the warm night air, nipples already peaked.Marcus pulled her against him, kissed her hard while Callahan watched, palming himself through his slacks."You sure the kid's asleep?" Callahan asked, voice low."He's out like a light," Elena purred. "And even if he wasn't… he knows better than to come downstairs after bedtime."Alex's breath caught.Marcus laughed against her mouth. "You're getting bold, slut.""I'm getting what I need." She sank to her knees between them, graceful as water. Hands working both belts at once. Two cocks sprang free—Marcus thick and dark and veined, Callahan average but already leaking.Elena took Marcus first. Deep. No hesitation. Throat working around him while her hand stroked Callahan in slow, twisting pulls. The wet sounds carried on the still air—gluck-gluck-gluck—obscene and unmistakable.Callahan groaned. "Jesus, Elena… my wife hasn't sucked me like this in fifteen years."Elena popped off Marcus long enough to smile up at him. "Then let me remind you what a real woman feels like."She switched. Took Callahan into her mouth while jerking Marcus with slick fingers. Back and forth. Worshipping them both like it was her religion now.Alex's hand was already down his boxers. He hated how hard he was. Hated how fast his pulse raced. Hated that he couldn't look away.Marcus pulled her up by the hair. "Bend over the patio table."Elena obeyed. Braced her forearms on the glass tabletop, ass presented, back arched. The motion light cast harsh shadows across her curves—every dip and swell illuminated.Marcus stepped behind her first. Ripped the thong aside instead of removing it. One hard thrust and he was buried. Elena's cry echoed off the fence."Fuck—yes—!"Callahan moved to her front. Fed his cock back into her mouth to muffle the sounds. They spit-roasted her like they'd rehearsed it. Marcus's hips snapping forward, balls slapping her clit. Callahan holding her head steady while he fucked her throat.Elena took it all. Drool ran down her chin. Mascara streaked. Stockings laddered from the rough concrete under her knees earlier.Marcus slapped her ass. "Tell him how much better I feel than your limp-dick husband."Elena gagged around Callahan's cock but managed to slur the words. "So much better—bigger—harder—makes me cum like a whore—"Callahan pulled out, slapped her cheek with his wet dick. "And me? You gonna let the neighbor across the street breed you too?""Yes—" she gasped. "Fill me—both of you—use me—"Marcus sped up. Grunted. "Gonna paint your insides first."He slammed deep and held. Elena's whole body shuddered as he unloaded. She moaned around Callahan like she was cumming just from being filled.Marcus pulled out. Cum immediately dripped down her thighs. Callahan took his place without pause. Slid into the slick, used heat Marcus left behind."Goddamn… she's still twitching," he muttered.Elena pushed back against him. "Harder—fuck me like you own me—"Alex stroked faster. His breathing matched theirs—ragged, desperate.Callahan didn't last long. A dozen more thrusts and he buried himself, groaning as he added his load to the mess already inside her.When he stepped back Elena stayed bent over the table, legs shaking, pussy gaping and leaking a steady stream of white down her stockings.Marcus lit a cigarette. Offered her one. She took it with trembling fingers, inhaled deep, exhaled smoke toward the stars."Think the kid heard any of that?" Callahan asked, zipping up.Elena laughed softly. "If he did… maybe he learned something."She straightened slowly. Didn't bother covering herself. Walked to the sliding door on unsteady legs, cum still trickling down her inner thighs.Inside the house the kitchen light came on.Alex stayed frozen at his window until the motion sensor clicked off and the backyard plunged into darkness again.He came silently into his fist, biting his lip bloody to keep from making a sound.Later—much later—Elena slipped into the house. He heard the shower start. Heard her humming again. That same pop song.When she came upstairs she paused outside his door.The crack was still there.She didn't push it open.But she stood there a long moment."Goodnight, sweetheart," she whispered, soft enough he almost missed it.Then her bedroom door closed.Alex lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing.He didn't sleep.He listened.And somewhere in the silence between heartbeats, he realized he was waiting for the next sound.The next crack.The next proof that the woman downstairs wasn't his mother anymore.She was theirs.And maybe—just maybe—he was starting to want her to be.