It's been three years since my mother disappeared from our lives. I was the last person who spoke to her before she left the house for her appointment at the nail salon. She was getting a manicure and pedicure in preparation for the annual Christmas party thrown by the company where my dad worked. My mom, as always, wanted to look her best. After she got her nails done, she was supposed to pick up a new dress, then return home.
Well . . . it didn't happen that way.
Mom never came home that night and repeated calls to her cell phone proved fruitless. When she hadn't shown by midnight, we really began to worry. My dad phoned the police but they told us we had to wait a minimum of forty-eight hours before they could declare my mother as a missing person. After the days turned into months, the authorities suspected someone had either kidnapped my mother, or she had gotten herself into a situation where she became injured and couldn't ask for help. Either way, it didn't sound too good.
Naturally, such news did nothing to allay our fears. We did everything we possibly could to find her. My dad even hired a private investigator who came highly recommended but he came up empty as well. When that didn't pan out, we asked our local television station to run her picture; this caught the attention of dad's old college buddy who happened to be watching the news when they ran my mother's picture. He recognized my mom and immediately called dad. He worked for the F.B.I. and offered to do a few background checks as a favor for my dad. But when he found nothing, we lost hope of ever seeing her again.
Then . . . a miracle of all miracles happened: I found her . . .
And I found mom purely by chance when I surfed for porn one night. I clicked on a link promising pictures of women with large, round asses because that's what I like, especially the mature kind; that's when several windows popped up covering the screen. I hated when that happened but that was the price one had to pay for downloading free material. It wasn't until I closed the second to last window when my eyes widened in interest.
There was a picture of a M.I.L.F. wearing a black thong, thrusting her ass toward the camera. Her cheeks were round and inviting, making me wish I had the ability to transport myself to the time and place when the picture was taken so I could fuck the shit out of her. My dick swelled and became engorged with blood at the very idea of such a fantasy. The tent in my pants yearned to be released from its cramped space. I saved the picture and went in search of some more. This time I found one of her face, and that's when my world turned upside down.
It was my mom! I was sure of it. Her face looked worn and vacant and there were a few extra wrinkles around her eyes, but it was definitely her. She was sitting on a red settee with her long, shapely legs crossed at the knees, wearing a see-through negligee. The caption below the pic read "Lenora" but the rest of the words were in a foreign language I couldn't read. I felt excited and confused; I didn't know whether to jump for joy and inform my dad or wait and see until I found out more. Since I didn't want to raise any false hopes, I decided I needed to gather more information. I was ninety-nine percent sure it was mom, but I needed to be certain. I think what was throwing me off was the fact that the woman in these photos looked to be about thirty pounds less than the weight my mom was carrying the time she disappeared.
The first thing I needed to do was get the website translated. Luckily for me, I knew the king of gearheads at my college; his name is Harold; we met one day in the school cafe. He sat alone at the only empty table available. I parked myself across from him and struck up a conversation; I think he was surprised someone other than a geek wanted to talk to him. I could tell Harold was self-conscious about his face, which was severely covered in acne. I pretended I didn't notice and kept my gaze only on the area between his eyes when we talked.
During our lunch that afternoon, I explained the fundamentals of good nutrition, educating him on the proper way to eat. I guaranteed Harold that if he removed dairy, greasy foods, and sugar from his diet, his face would clear up in no time. He listened but I didn't think he would follow my advice, which is not surprising. Most people are slaves to their palates and a radical change to their diet can be very difficult for them. So, you can imagine my surprise when I ran into Harold two weeks later. His acne was all but gone save for some small patches here and there. To say he was elated was an understatement. Harold couldn't contain his excitement. I felt happy for him. The poor guy deserved a break.
That's when Harold mentioned if there was anything I needed in terms of computer help, free software, hacking--whatever. I was to come to him. Ever since then, I've run into Harold a few times around campus. His acne is now gone and he seems more confident as well.
The day after discovering mom's pics, I went in search of Harold; I eventually found him sitting under a tree, studying his notes. I asked if he could meet me at the library later this evening. I thought if anyone could help me find my mom, it would be him. Harold readily agreed and said he would swing by. I never told Harold about the disappearance of my mother before, but when we met that day, I clued him in on all the particulars including my suspicions.
"No problem Rick. I have a program that can translate any modern language into English. However, finding the location of the computer that is uploading data into the server which houses the pics of the woman--I mean your mom--will take a little more time."
"Do you think you'll be able to pull it off?
"Don't worry, Rick. I can do it. You'll see."
This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Changes last made on: Friday, July 3, 2009