Eager to Please

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. All characters are 18+

Chapter 1

Normally, being woken up by a car backfire would suck for most, but not for Oliver. He'd take this opportunity to indulge in one of his major vices. You see, Oliver had a bit of an obsession with video games, whether on mobile, console, or PC. He loved them all the same, and any chance he got to play was always welcomed.

Yeah, nothing beats being the only one awake at 3 am, no business, just pleasure. Getting up from the bed and using the flashlight feature on his phone, he quickly found what he was looking for. There it was sitting on his desk, his pride and joy, the computer wasn't much to look at, seeing as his parent wasn't exactly the wealthiest, but it got the job done.

Suddenly, his alarm was blaring. Oliver didn't know when he fell asleep again in front of the monitor, but what he did know was he had just a few minutes before his mom walked in, and he didn't want her to be proven right again about his habits. Quickly dashing to the bathroom for a hot shower, after brushing his teeth, he stared at the mirror, observing himself.

Oliver had dirty blond colored hair, brown eyes and freckles running across his nose, hardly noticeable, but they were there. He was on the shorter side, although he wasn't too bothered by that; he was convinced he had another growth spurt in the tank. It didn't stop people from teasing him about it, though. The blond had a lean figure, probably as a result of things he had to do around the house and for others who were willing to pay.

"Who's this handsome devil?" said Oliver as he pointed finger guns at his reflection. Satisfied, he left for his room. Putting on a gray shirt, some blue jeans, and black and white sneakers, he went downstairs.

Debbie, Oliver's mother, was preparing breakfast while humming a familiar tune. She was in her PJs, which consisted of a pair of pink loose-fitting pants that stopped just below her knees and a white tank top with an apron on. The smell of bacon and eggs filled the kitchen; they were Oliver's favourite.

"What's the occasion?" Oliver asked, taking a seat at the table. Debbie chuckled, flipping a strip of bacon with practiced ease.

"That's my line, why are u dressed so early, are you hiding something from me again?" replied Debbie, shooting a quizical look at her son. Knowing Oliver, He was probably over-correcting again.

"Hey, I can be responsible.... once in a while" said Oliver defensively, but Debbie wasn't buying it. Responding with a short chuckle before going back to making breakfast.

As Oliver sat, he couldn't help but admire his mom. Debbie was a tall brunette, had an hourglass figure with full breasts and a round butt. Even without make-up, she was the prettiest woman in their apartment building. He knew he was her son, but he couldn't help but appreciate her beauty from time to time.

"Oh, don't forget, dear, you have to go help Mrs Donna today at her place." said Debbie as she brought a plate of breakfast to the blond. "Just because she and I are close doesn't mean you can take it easy" She ruffles his hair a little before sitting down.

Mrs Donna was the Landlady of their building and Debbie's best friend. She was slightly older than the brunette, rich and had a daughter in high-school. She had dark short hair, tall with a voluptuous figure. Although she was not as pretty as his mom, her body was stacked, with big breasts which always seemed to strain whatever top she was putting on that day, a butt that was visible even when wearing baggy pants and thighs that could crush watermelons. But being a business woman meant her personality was cold as ice, a glare from her would leave any man a stuttering mess.

It wasn't long ago that Oliver started doing a few things for Donna, things that she simply was too busy or too important to do. Debbie was happy because it made the boy actually go outside instead of being cooped up in his room playing those games he loves so much.

Oliver groaned around a mouthful of eggs, but it was the kind of groan that didn't reach his eyes. "Right, the leaky faucet thing. She said she'd pay extra if I got it done before the weekend."

"That's... generous of her. Seems like she's taken a liking to you, which is no easy feat. Trust me" Debbie teased as she watched her son eat. He looked so cute when he smiled like that.

"She pays better than anyone else," Oliver said, shrugging as he shoveled in another bite. "And she can be nice... sometimes."

Oliver finished the last of his eggs, pushing back from the table with a satisfied sigh. "Better get going, I guess. She said morning's best before her meetings start."

"Give Donna and Megan my regards, sweetie" She said as she started picking up the dishes. "Be back before dinner, okay"

Oliver was already halfway out the kitchen. "Jeez, Mom, I'm not a kid anymore" He pouted before his easy-going smile returned. "Bye, mom"

Leaving their apartment, going downstairs and out to the street, Mrs Donna lived just a block away witch was perfect. Walking down the road, her house came into view. It wasn't too big but was a very modern house, standing out among the surrounding houses. Crossing their impressive lawn and arriving at the front door. After pushing the doorbell, he heard movements from the other side before the door swung open and he was face to face, well, more like face to chest with Megan, Donna's daughter.

She looked down at me with a knowing smile. "Yo, what's up, little dude?" she said. "Here to be our servant for the day?"

She was grinning ear to ear as her fiery red hair flowed in the morning wind. She was very pretty, a few years older than the boy, but that didn't stop him from forming a crush on her, a crush that she was well aware of.

"Ahem" Oliver cleared his throat. "Hi Meg, isn't it too early for this? And I'm not little" he said, slightly blushing across his freckles.

Megan chuckled at his cute reaction before turning around in her oversized shirt and shorts, which showed much of her toned legs. "Come on in, Olie, my mom's in the kitchen"

He wordlessly followed the redhead into the house, leading to the kitchen. Mrs Donna had just finished talking to someone on the phone before turning to face the boy.

The matriarch stood tall, wearing an expensive-looking top and pants that accentuated her curves.

"Hello Oliver, I appreciate your punctuality" she said with a rare, warm smile. "Have you had breakfast yet?"

"Good morning Mrs Donna, yeah, I already ate. Thank you" Oliver replied, scratching the back of his head.

"Such a polite young man" said Donna "A certain someone could take a few pages from your book" she said while shooting her daughter a sly look.

Megan, watching their interaction, rolled her eyes at her mother's not-so-subtle remark and went back to eating her breakfast.

"Anyway, why don't you have a seat, Oliver" Donna said as she moved towards the coffee machine to pour herself a cup.

It wasn't long before Megan finished up her plate. "Alright, Mom, I gotta go. Stacy's waiting on me. We have that big test coming up" she stood up and began leaving the kitchen. "See ya, little dude, don't break anything while I'm out" she uttered as she stepped out the front door, waving her hand to no one in particular.

And then it was just the two of them. The kitchen suddenly felt smaller, warmer. Donna leaned against the counter, still holding her cup of coffee, bringing it to her soft lips to take a sip. This made Oliver blush slightly for reasons he was not quite sure.

The tall woman sighed as she noticed her daughter's plate still on the table. "That girl, I swear..." She made an attempt to move, before Oliver moved to grab the plate.

"Don't worry, Mrs Donna. I got it," He said with a bright smile, bringing the dishes to the sink.

"Oh, such a gentleman. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were buttering me up," Donna said with a smirk, which got a nervous chuckle from the blond. Her hand coming to rest on his shoulder with weight and heat, her thumb brushed once, twice, against his collarbone, lingering a bit longer than usual, before she let go.

"So, this is the faucet that's in need of your attention" She said, gesturing at the kitchen faucet. "I'll be in the living room. You can find tools in the garage if you need any. Let me know when you are through"

Oliver had just tightened the last bolt when Donna's voice drifted back into the kitchen. "How's it coming, Mr Handyman?"

"Almost done," he called out, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Just wanna test it, moment of truth."

He turned the faucet handle. Water gushed out clear and steady, the dripping was gone. "Awesome, it's fixed."

Donna was already at the doorway, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. The position did interesting things to her posture. "That was quick. My little hero. I had a plumber actually quote me three hundred dollars for that."

"Really? It was just a loose connection."

"Mm. Men always over-complicate things." She pushed off the frame, moving toward him with that slow, deliberate stride. "Come on. Take a break. You've definitely earned it."

She led him to the living room -- spacious, modern, with a leather couch that looked like it cost more than Oliver's entire apartment. Donna sat down and patted the cushion beside her, close enough that their thighs nearly touched when he settled in.

"So," she said, crossing her legs. Her knee bumped his. She didn't pull away. "How's school? Any lucky girls catching your eye?"

Oliver felt his ears get hot and was hit with a wave of embarrassment. "Uh. Not really. I mean-- school's fine."

"Hmm, really?" Donna's smile widened, something sharp glinting behind the warmth. "Or not anyone you'd admit to?" She leaned closer, her shoulder pressing against his. "Someone like my daughter, perhaps?"

"I-- what? No, I mean--" Oliver stammered, the denial too loud, too fast.

"Come on, you can tell me. You're not exactly subtle." She probed deeper, making him squirm under her questioning.

"M-Megan's older and- she doesn't even-"

"So you're interested in older girls?" Donna teased. "You know, they'd eat such a cute boy up if you're not careful." Her breath was practically washing over his reddened ear.

Donna suddenly laughed, a rich sound that vibrated through her chest and into his. "Relax, Oliver. I'm only teasing." Her hand found his knee, resting there with casual weight.

Oliver looked down at his hands, his throat tight, trying to recover from Donna's intense interrogation. Convincing himself she was just messing with him "Heh, I wouldn't know. About any of that. The boyfriend-girlfriend stuff."

The silence stretched. When he looked up, Donna was studying him with an expression he couldn't read -- something between surprise and... hunger?

Donna's slender hand slid from his knee to his thigh, squeezing once before she stood abruptly. "Well. That was fun" She walked toward the kitchen, not looking back. "Come along, my purse is in here"

Oliver got up and trailed the taller woman to the other room, stopping at the kitchen counter. She grabbed her purse and dug in to fish out a few notes of cash. Placing the money on the surface, Donna wordlessly instructed him to come and collect it. Oliver moved to claim his compensation with a feeling something resembling pride.

"Thank you, Mrs Don-" was all the boy managed as he felt a body press against his back, trapping him where he stood. Oliver fell silent as the presence of Donna completely overwhelmed his senses; all he could do was stare at his hands clutching the money. He could feel her as she leaned in close to his reddened ear, her lips a hair's breath away.

"You did such a good job today, Oliver," she slowly reached to caress his hips, pressing her body further into him. "You're really cute, you know that? Such soft skin"

Oliver's breath hitched, shaky and audible. "Mrs. Donna..." The name came out broken, half-gasp, half-moan, his body betraying him even as his mind scrambled to catch up.

"Shh," she breathed against his ear, her hands sliding from his hips to his stomach, pulling him against her even more. He could feel every curve pressed into his back, soft and unyielding. Her fingers drifted lower, teasing at his waistband, testing. "You really shouldn't let your guard down with older women, didn't your mother teach you?"

Oliver gritted his teeth, trying to deny the pleasure he was feeling, eyes half lidded. His knuckles were white around the crumpled cash, the only anchor in a world spinning sideways. He felt he should move. Felt he should run. But his legs wouldn't obey, locked in place by the heat of her palms roaming across his chest, his stomach, everywhere but where he suddenly ached for them to be.

"Turn around," Donna commanded as he meekly complied. He turned to face her imposing stature, his vision mostly obscured by her chest. She stood at her full height, almost daring him to defy her.

"You did well today, my little handyman," she caressed his cheek, wielding a warm smile that betrayed her true intentions. "Don't be a stranger. You should start heading back; your mother would start to worry"

With that, she stepped back. The absence of her body felt like a physical blow. Oliver swayed, catching himself on the counter, his face crimson, his breath ragged. Donna was already across the kitchen, adjusting her blouse, smoothing her hair. Composed. Like she'd just finished a business call. She didn't look at him. Oliver stood there, shaking, hard, and confused and utterly wrecked. The cash in his hand felt dirty now. Everything felt different.

The blond quietly walked out on shaky legs, out of the house, into the streets and arrived at his apartment building. He absent-mindedly opened the apartment and went in.

Debbie was wiping down the counter. After a long day at work, she really wanted to see her cute little man. It wasn't long before the door clicked open. She turned, smile ready. "Hey, sweetie, how was--"

Oliver shuffled past without meeting her eyes, a mumbled "hey" his only greeting. His shoulders were hunched, his movements jerky, unnatural.

"Oliver?" Debbie abandoned the counter, catching his hand as he tried to breeze past. The contact made him flinch. Raising an eyebrow, she pulled him to her to get to the bottom of his strange behaviour. Her maternal instinct kicked in, checking for injury, for fever.

"Is everything alright?" she asked, Oliver still not meeting her gaze. Debbie, still suspicious, still eyed him but decided to let it go. She pulled him into a warm hug, she was just happy to be home again with her son.

He stiffened in her arms, then went pliant, almost trembling. Debbie inhaled automatically, the way mothers do, and froze.

Donna's perfume -- that expensive French stuff -- but underneath it, something else. Salt. Heat. The smell of a woman, but concentrated, wrong. Oliver's heart was hammering against his chest, his breath hot against her.

"That smell..." She didn't finish. Didn't want to assume.

"I'm gonna shower," Oliver mumbled, pulling away. His face was crimson, his eyes hidden behind his bangs. He practically fled to the bathroom, door clicking shut, water running immediately.

Debbie stood in the hallway, her arms still slightly raised from the hug, her own heart pounding now for reasons she refused to examine. She stared at the bathroom door, listening to the water run, and felt something cold settle in her stomach.

She pulled out her phone and dialed her friend.

Donna answered on the second ring, breezy and casual. "Hey, Deb."

"Hey." Debbie's voice came out tight. She cleared her throat. "Just wanted to say thanks for taking care of Oliver today. Wanted to ask if you noticed anything about him. He seemed... weird when he got back."

There was a pause. A long one. "Weird how?"

"I don't know. Flushed. Quiet." Debbie gripped the counter, knuckles white. "Did something happen?" she tried to sound casual.

Donna laughed -- that rich, warm sound that usually comforted. Why did it annoy her this time? "We had a nice chat. He's growing up, Deb. Probably just hormones. He's not a little boy anymore."

"I know that," Debbie said, sharper than intended.

"I'm sure you do." Another pause. Donna's voice dropped, almost intimate. "You should keep a closer eye on him. Lots of women out there would... appreciate a boy like that. Helpful. Eager to please."

Debbie's breath caught. "What does that mean?" The image of a woman taking her boy away from her flashed in her mind, making her face heat up.

"Nothing, nothing. I'm just teasing, Deb. Lighten up." Donna's tone shifted back to bright. "Gotta run -- client meeting. Kiss Oliver for me."

The line went dead.

Debbie stared at her phone, then at the bathroom door, water still running. She pressed her hand to her chest, feeling her own heartbeat, confused by the heat pooling low in her stomach, the anger and something else -- something that felt dangerously like arousal -- twisting together.

She sat down hard, suddenly needing to.

"What the fuck is wrong with me?" she whispered to no one.