Chapter 6: Go Home and See the Kids

We went back to our home in the Netherlands. Just like love, a house thrives with regular maintenance when nurtured with consistency and care. Peeling paint, small wall cracks, and minor roof leaks marred our property. What had once been so beautiful had been forgotten, and that made me sad. I could also see that it affected Koen as well. Strangely enough, the musty air in the house that could escalate into rottenness released a huge amount of energy in Jutta. She ignored our sad faces and got to work immediately. In this house lay the remnants of our shared history, yet her path stretched ahead, memories yet to be written. Within minutes she had us working beside her. She wiped away our gloom quicker than she wiped the floors. She opened the windows and a fresh air blew in our house. We dusted and mopped and washed and fixed small things that were broken. Some were thrown away, some repaired, others we need to replace.

Our bed was big enough for the three of us. I offered to sleep at the foot end of the bed, but both of my lovers wouldn’t hear of it. So, two of Koen’s slaves sandwiched Koen, Jutta covered his back, and I was the receptacle for anything he wanted to give me. We were beat, every bone aching from the exertion. The difference in age between us and Sylvia was never more apparent today.

Natascha comes to visit today. Natascha is not a bitch. She is a she-wolf. She has fooled my son with her gleaming eyes and innocent look. But there is nothing innocent about Natas. Men are so stupid. She offers him pussy and his brain stops working. Natas is on a mission with only one goal: to thwart her evil mother-in-law. Because her husband’s mother knows what she is up to. She wants to separate my son from his own familiar environment; she doesn’t want him to get advice from people he can trust. Her aim is for him to rely on HER parents instead of us, as they are far superior.

I have seen many girls like Natas in school when I was teaching. Narcissistic. Mean and devious. Pretty. Big Boobs. Capital B is certainly not an exaggeration. Cup B, on the other hand, is the ideal cup size. My tits harmonise with my physique. They are well-proportioned, unlike other women I know. They are practical. In the future, Natascha will find herself dealing with back pains because of her big overachievers.

I think you think I’m not being completely honest. I think you think I’m a petty excuse for a mother-in-law who has a bone to pick with her daughter-in-law. You seem to overlook the fact that I am bound to be completely truthful. I’m not proud of sharing with you my opinion on Maugrim, the white witch. Let me give you some examples of Natas’ narcissism.

Christmas is for family, is it not? Years ago, we were waiting for Peter and his wife on the second Christmas Day. In the Netherlands, we need two days to celebrate the birth of Christ. The first day they could visit her parents, and we would settle for second place. So we got them presents under our tree. We stocked our fridge full of stuff Peter used to love. I cleaned the house from top to bottom. Last time they came, I saw Natas running her finger over an edge to see if there was any dust on it. And we waited. 10 o’clock. Coffee time. Twelve, lunch time. Three o’clock, tea time. Peter always came home second Christmas Day. Like Christmas itself, it was a tradition that was deeply ingrained. Not a text message with ‘sorry our car broke down’ or some other lame excuse. I felt especially sorry for Koen, because he really enjoys talking to his son about work. Weeks later, we heard from Natas in passing that they had been visiting friends on the second Christmas Day. I gave Peter his late Christmas present. I might have forgotten hers. No, I have to be honest. I threw hers away the day after Christmas.

I am extremely proud of my sons, and rightfully so. They are both fine young men with a good ethical compass, polite and friendly. They have both found success by following the family tradition, securing themselves with good jobs. Saying “Good Girl” has become their customary way of expressing gratitude. They have heard it from their father thousands of times and tried copying that in their adolescence. Obviously I don’t mind. Hearing ‘ Good Girl’ always fills me with pride. Things changed when Natas started calling me Good Girl as well. If my boys say it, I know they mean it in a complimentary way. It is their way of saying ‘Thank you’ after I have done something for them. But when Natas says it, his voice carries a lot of sarcasm. She thinks I am spoiling Peter and Sandor. So what if I do spoil them a bit? I am their mother. I have the right to spoil them if I choose to do so. She knows she is getting under my skin every time she says with that sarcastic voice of hers, ‘Good Girl.’ She never agrees with me on any subject and is always looking for a fight. And when she gets that fight, she acts all innocent and embarrasses Peter by having to choose sides. He chooses hers most of the time, of course. I understand that. He wants his pussy at the end of the day.

Last time I have seen Natascha and Peter was on my birthday. You all know how that ended. But things have changed, obviously. So I felt a heavy knot in my stomach, as if my insides were tied up in tension. Like before, I found myself bound to the bed, only this time the knots were on the inside, creating a feeling I can’t put into words. My hands trembled uncontrollably, and I’d already broken some dishes. My heart pounded like it wants to leap from my chest. In my head, a whirlwind of disastrous scenarios played out, each ending in ruin.

We expected them at 13:00 hours. They were late, of course. Since she knows we expect them to be on time, I’m certain she’s delaying Peter, who’s already prepared, so she can do her makeup. I have never seen her real face. There is always a thick layer of make-up hiding her ugly face. Jutta seemed tense as well. That didn’t make me feel any calmer. Koen was the only one that was himself, and he tried to radiate calm. By 13:35 I was ready to cancel their visit. Make up some excuse that we had to be somewhere. Or needed to go to the first aid department of our hospital. Or had to go back to Germany on business. Jutta’s business. When I was walking to the phone to call them off, I heard tires crunching on the gravel.

Jutta, who had a legitimate reason for being upset, was trying to calm me down. Perhaps I could die right here and now. It would save everyone a lot of trouble and would clear the path for Koen and Jutta. Where is a heart-attack when you really need one? As usual, Natasha led the way, with Peter trailing behind. Like the puppy dog he was. God, she has to be good in bed to make up for all of this. I was so glad that Koen took charge when they arrived.

“Welcome. It has been too long since we have seen you both. How are you?” He greeted them. They were fine.

“Good, good, let’s sit down at the kitchen table. I have a lot to tell you.” Koen said.

“I don’t think we have met before?” Natasha said in Dutch, looking at Jutta.

“My bad,” Koen said. “I should have introduced her. Please let us switch to English because Jutta doesn’t speak the Dutch language yet. However, she speaks German and Swedish fluently, so if any of you would like to continue in either of those languages, be my guest.”

Jutta took a step forward and stretched out her hand. “I am Jutta Peska, pleased to meet you. I have heard so much about you both,” she said, full of grace.

“Please sit down. Would you like coffee or tea?” Koen said again.

“A latte macchiato, please, with oat milk.” Natasha said. She knew very well we do not have these trendy milk tastes. “Just a tea for me, Dad. The big tea pot would be nice.” Peter added, modest as always.

“We only have cow’s milk in the fridge. Would you like that?” I said perhaps a bit too sharp to Natasha.

“Sorry, I have a cow milk allergy. Perhaps I should have some of Peter’s tea as well.” She has over a hundred allergies, I think. I am one of them. I went to the kitchen to make tea for our guests and coffee for my master and mistress. With cow milk. They were talking about Peters’ work. Apparently, the business was booming. Good for him. I served them their drinks.

“Good Girl”, said Peter.

“Good Girl,” Natasha parroted. Jutta looked a bit confused.

The sudden screeching halt of a car in front of our house startled us. A tall, broad-shouldered man came out of it.

“SANDOR,” I cried out, opened the door and ran into his arms. “Son, what a surprise! How wonderful to see you! I haven’t seen you in ages. When did you come back?” I continued to rant.

“Mother?” He caressed my bald head. “Is there something I need to know? What happened?”

I was so happy I saw my son back again. Most of the nerves had morphed into joy. “How long have you been away?”

“Almost two years. I have seen enough sea for two lifetimes”, he grinned, looking so handsome in his navy uniform. “Dad.” He stepped out of my embrace and hugged his father in a man-hug. “Good to see you, Dad. You are looking happy. Retirement appears to be treating you well.”

“Good to see you as well, son. Come on in. Peter and Natas are here as well.” Sandor shook his bother’s hand and kissed Natasha on both cheeks. Three times, the Dutch way of greeting. With a big grin, he turned towards Jutta.

“Hi, I am Jutta. Jutta Peska.” She said in English, a little subdued. Perhaps she was a little intimidated by his size.

“Pleased to meet you”, Sandor grinned, ignored her hand and kissed her three times on the cheeks as well. Those cheeks were a little pink now. My boy had made an impression!

Koen sent me to get him a cup of coffee. “Strong and black,” Sandor added his preference. A cacophony of Dutch and English filled the room as people talked over one another.

“I am so glad you are all here,” Koen said in English with some raising of the voice, “the most important reason of course, to see you all again, but I have some announcements as well. And what better way than to call a family meeting?

“Are you staying in Germany this year? The house could use a bit of TLC, Dad.” Peter said.

“Good of you to mention it,” Koen started, the very essence of tranquillity. “We plan to come home in the very near future. Jutta is selling the hotel and is planning to come to live here.”

“What do you mean, live here?” Natasha was on it. “With you guys?”

“Life has been incredibly turbulent for us lately because of many significant changes. First, I want to inform you I am no longer married to your mother. Our divorce was announced last week. As adults, you both know that your parents will remain your parents despite the divorce.” Koen said.

That took them all by surprise. “I always thought you were such a good couple. The last thing I had expected for you was for you guys to split up.” Peter was the first one with a coherent reaction.

Koen stood up and placed his hands on Jutta’s shoulders. “And that is not all. I am very pleased to introduce to you my new bride to be. Jutta is selling her place and agreed to come here as my wife.”

The chaos resumed. There were no congratulations offered. Jutta looked so fragile and small in her chair. If she could have sunk under the table, I think she would have. I stood up as well and walked to her. I took her hands in mine and lifted her up. Then I pulled her close, enfolding her in a hug so tight and long that I could feel her heart pounding against my chest. “Congratulations mistress. May your life together with Koen overflow with love and happiness.”

A somewhat sheepish congratulations came eventually from Peter and Sandor. Natasha squeezed her eyes shut. “Did I hear that right, mistress? Did you call this home wrecker MISTRESS?”

Of course she picked up on that. Stupid of me. I should have known better. I was so used to call her mistress; It was a habit by now. I had used the word without a second thought.

“We are living together, your father, Jutta and I and we will continue to do so as a throuple.”

“Your mother and I have a special relationship, and it is enough that you know that the three of us are happy.” Koen said.