My Policewoman Mom

Without a word, Mom delivered another side kick, knocking the man to the ground. Seeing he couldn't beat Mom, the man
scrambled out of the room. Mom wiped her mouth in disgust and chased after him. Once outside, the man
was nowhere to be seen.
I watched him run to an empty room nearby and hide, but I didn't have the courage to tell Mom
. If she found out I was secretly following her, she would definitely scold me.
Looking around, Mom didn't investigate further and simply left the
house in her high heels. I quietly followed Mom, taking a shortcut home a short distance away. Once home
, I locked my door. A moment later, I heard Mom open the door, followed by the sound of her changing shoes.
Knock, knock, knock—a few seconds later, there was a knock on my door.
"Open the door." The knocking was loud. I shrank back. Had Mom discovered I was following her
?
"Why aren't you eating?" Mom asked again from outside.
"I'm not hungry..." I answered softly.
After a while, I heard Mom sigh, then say in a soft voice, "Sweetie, come out and eat first
."
I didn't respond, feeling Mom waiting at the door for a moment. I hesitated, then
opened the door with a creak.
Standing at the door, I looked at Mom, who looked very neat and tidy, not at all like
someone who had just been harassed by a strange man.
"Come here," Mom's cool voice came, and I obediently walked to her side.
As Mom walked to the dining table, she ladled a bowl of rice, pushed it in front of me, and gestured for me to eat. I
didn't say anything, picked up the bowl, and started eating.
I could feel Mom's gaze fixed on me.
I buried my head in my food, afraid Mom would notice something was wrong. Occasionally, I would glance up at Mom.
Mom wasn't in a hurry to eat either, just looking at me with loving eyes.
I stole glances at my mother. Her skin was fair, her eyes melancholic yet loving,
her large, bright eyes framed by willow-leaf eyebrows. She rested her round face on one hand, her skin brimming with collagen,
showing no signs of age. Her small, cherry-like lips were so alluring that even I, her son, felt a shiver run through me, let
alone other men.
Lost in thought, my mother glanced up and met my dazed gaze.
"Silly son, why aren't you eating? Why are you staring at me?"
Startled by her sudden voice, I froze, continuing to shovel rice into my mouth, barely
chewing the vegetables. After only two or three bites, I finished the bowl. Then, like a frightened
bird, I hurriedly left the table and locked myself in my room, silent.
My mind was filled with images of my mother kissing that strange man, and of her being touched.
Soon, I heard my mother's footsteps stop at my bedroom door. I looked at my door, waiting for
her to knock, but a long time passed without any sound.
"Son, Mom has to go out to run errands tomorrow at noon. Remember to eat lunch. Don't
eat it cold, it'll upset your stomach. Remember to heat it up." After saying that, Mom left my bedroom.
I went to the door and quietly opened it a crack, seeing Mom turn and go into the bathroom. I came out of my room and went
to the bathroom. Through the door, I saw Mom frantically washing herself with warm water. Mom
must have been in a very bad mood after what happened today.
Mom washed for a long time in the bathroom, during which I heard her rinsing her mouth, rinsing it ten times.
"I really hope that when I go to investigate tomorrow, I won't run into such disgusting people again. It seems that my
fists and feet alone are not enough; I need to carry some weapons for self-defense." Mom muttered in the bathroom
.
The next morning, before leaving the house, I saw Mom carefully dressing herself in front of the vanity mirror for half an hour. Then
she opened a small drawer by the bedside, took out a delicate self-defense knife, and hid it in her
stockings. Finally, she slung her bag over her shoulder and left. This time, she didn't go to the police station but took a taxi directly
to her desired location.
As the taxi drove away, I watched my mother's car gradually disappear into the distance and immediately panicked. I hurriedly
hailed another taxi, got in, and told the driver to follow the car that had just left.
Yes, today I was still diligently following my mother.
My mother seemed to have a purpose as she walked down the street. To avoid arousing her suspicion, I deliberately asked the driver
to slow down and take a small detour. Only when I saw my mother's car stop in the distance did I get out
and jog to follow.
This time, it seemed there was no result. My mother simply sat in a bookstore all day, not
seeing anyone. Throughout the day, she stared blankly at a certain spot, her expression cold and indifferent; I wondered
what she was thinking. Afterwards, she took a taxi back to the police station.
I had a premonition that my mother, her superiors, and colleagues were carrying out some big plan. And my mother
was probably part of their plan, and the most important part at that. After my mother returned to the police station,
I didn't follow her anymore. Instead, I quietly left and went home, as if nothing had happened.
Several days passed, and my mother didn't give any new instructions. She just
ate breakfast early every morning, left me some food, and went straight to the police station. She stayed there all day and
came home on time in the evening, as if nothing had happened a few days ago, and that she didn't have any important tasks
. Perhaps, or perhaps I was just overthinking it, but this could also be the calm before the storm.
Another morning, I got up early and pressed my ear to my bedroom door, listening for
any sounds outside. Soon, I heard the sound of stir-frying outside. My mother had gotten up to make breakfast.
I tiptoed to get dressed, opened the door, and deliberately slipped into the bathroom as if nothing had happened.
When I came out, I suddenly noticed my mother was sitting at the dressing table getting ready again. My mother was getting dressed quite...
Her makeup was meticulous, quite different from when she went to the police station. It seemed she had something new planned today. But
then I noticed a small detail: my mother's eyes were fixed on something on the television.
Following her gaze, I saw a photo of our family of three.
Instantly, a complex emotion welled up inside me. The photo showed me as a child, and also my
father. I was only about six or seven years old then, a naive little boy.
I don't remember much from that time, but I remember my father's death very clearly.
My father died after we took this family photo, killed by an organization. I
remember my mother telling me that. Although I didn't know what that organization was, it was said that
the police hadn't yet cracked its code. Could the information my mother was trying to obtain this time
be related to the organization that killed my father?
This thought instantly piqued my interest. It seemed that following her today was once again essential.
"Son, what are you standing there for?"
My mother's voice pulled me back to reality. I realized I was staring blankly at
the picture on the TV, completely unaware of what I was doing.
I tried my best to hide my panic, deliberately adopting a sad tone as I said to my mother,
"Mom, I haven't seen Dad in so long, I really miss him." As I spoke, I
even made a gesture of wiping away tears.
Yes, no matter what I did wrong, Dad was always my mother's weakness. Just mentioning
Dad and Mom would instantly dispel any anger.
I don't know if it was true, or if my words about missing Dad had an effect, or if it was my tone that had
the effect, but my mother didn't say anything.
"It's okay, son. The bad guys who killed your father, one day, Mom will make them get
what they deserve."
What? For a moment, I couldn't believe my ears. Did the information my mother unintentionally revealed
really confirm my suspicions?
"Hurry up and go to school, don't waste time here. Mom has important things to do today, so I won't
be back for lunch. Take the money in the coffee table drawer and buy yourself some food." Mom realized she had unintentionally
said this to her son and felt a pang of regret.
She then hurried out the door. Today, although she wasn't dressed up much, her clothes were still quite formal
—a simple t-shirt, long trousers, and high heels—probably not work attire. However, compared to her
usual work look, I noticed many differences. Mom usually wears pink lipstick to work,
but this time she was wearing red. Although she wore light makeup, it couldn't hide her beauty.
Even so, I hesitated for a moment, then followed Mom out the door. Walking behind my mother,
I carefully observed her back. Her white t-shirt perfectly outlined her curves; her shoulder blades
were prominent, highlighting her slender figure. Her buttocks were shapely, tempting anyone to reach out and pinch
them, but she was my mother, and I would never do such a despicable thing. A pair of black trousers
made her legs appear even longer, and in her high heels, she possessed the aura of a movie star
.
I don't know why I did this, why I followed my mother. Perhaps today she
wouldn't go to any disreputable places, but would instead work diligently at the police station, but I wanted to follow
her because I had a premonition that something was going to happen.
Sure enough, this time my mother didn't take a taxi, but walked. She wasn't heading towards her workplace
, but towards some secluded place. The clatter of her high heels on the street was crisp and clear.
The roadside trees were slowly receding, and the number of vehicles on the road was gradually decreasing. I still diligently
followed behind my mother, maintaining a distance that was neither too close nor too far.
Sometimes, when turning a corner, my mother would inadvertently turn her head to look, but fortunately, she didn't notice
me.
Actually, I had deliberately disguised myself. Before leaving the house, I had quickly changed into another
outfit that I had secretly bought myself, and even put on a baseball cap to cover most of my face. Although my mother usually liked to go into my room
, she never rummaged through my closet. We still had a lot of private space between us.
The slender figure ahead had stopped at some point, and I slowed down as well, slowly hiding
behind the bushes.
I saw a burly man; he seemed to know my mother. They were leaning together like acquaintances,
whispering something. I slowly approached them, trying to hear some of their conversation.
"You actually have the guts to come to me alone? Do you really want that thing that much?"
"Tell me, what are your conditions for giving me the information I want?"
"I do have conditions, but I'm worried about whether you'll agree."
"If it's within my power, why wouldn't I agree?"
"Alright, as expected of a policeman, a promise is a promise. Since you've said so, I might as well state my
conditions directly."
"As long as you don't go back on your word."
"Okay, I have a rental house nearby. Come to the rental house later to make the transaction with me.
I want your…"
It seemed the man said that if Mom wanted the information, she had to exchange it for something.
How annoying, my ears can't hear clearly at crucial moments. So useless. But it
probably isn't anything good.
Upon hearing this, Mom's face instantly changed, and she said angrily, "What did you say?
Despicable and shameless!"
After she finished speaking, the man chuckled, seemingly having Mom completely under his thumb, and said contemptuously,
"Say what you will, that's the only condition. If you don't want to, there's nothing I can do."
Mom looked at the man with intense anger. I didn't know what he had said to make Mom so furious.
I was furious. Looking into my mother's eyes, I felt like I wanted to devour the man alive.
The man didn't speak, just stared at my mother lecherously. After a while, he seemed
to lose patience with her and turned to leave.
My mother watched him turn away, biting her sensual lips, as if making a
difficult decision. She said to the man, slowly and deliberately, "Okay, I agree."
An exchange? I wondered what they were exchanging. A sordid thought surfaced
in my mind. It was disgusting, but it was the most likely scenario.
Then, the man gave me an address for a rental apartment and told my mother to go there immediately.
I silently memorized the address and watched the man turn and leave.
Throughout, my mother stood motionless, like a beautiful statue. Her expression
was conflicted, as if she were struggling, like a drowning person desperately calling for help. My mother seemed to be
making some important decision.
I knew what my mother was struggling with. After that man gave me the address of the rental house,
my judgment became even more firm.
Subconsciously, I didn't want my mother to do that kind of thing, but the thought of my father made me
hesitate. I truly understood and felt my mother's despair, but I couldn't help her
at all.
Looking at my mother's lonely figure, I really wanted to suddenly rush forward and hug her, comfort her, and tell her that no matter
what, I still had her, but I didn't have the courage; I just couldn't reach out my hands.
I sighed and could only follow the man to the location he had given me. If I found
the rental house beforehand, I could see everything that followed clearly.
I remembered the address of the rental house very clearly. It wasn't late, only a few hundred meters away. I deliberately
took a detour, avoiding my mother's location, and then carefully observed the road signs, searching for
the rental house the man had mentioned.
This was truly a godforsaken place. All around were abandoned construction sites and dilapidated
buildings overgrown with weeds. Looking around, it seemed like I was the only person on the entire street. Walking alone on this street late at night
would be incredibly terrifying.
I quickly found the rental room the man had mentioned. There weren't many buildings around, so finding
a room was easy.
It seemed to be a staff quarters for an abandoned factory. Even after the factory was abandoned, only a handful of people lived there
. Cracks and moss were clearly visible on the upper floors. The exposed brickwork
looked as if centuries had passed, untouched by human hands.
Anyway, the sparse population made things convenient. The man said the rental room was number
203, on the second floor. Looking at it, I saw a window with a missing pane of glass, and not even a security grille.
But then again, people living here wouldn't bother with thieves, so why would they need a security grille?
I nimbly grabbed the first-floor steps, trying to climb to the second floor. The floor was covered in moss, making it slippery
and hindering my progress, but that didn't stop me.
It took me a full 20 minutes to climb to the second-floor window, still worried about
being discovered if I sneaked in. I even planned that if the man found me, I would lie and say I was
just a thief who hadn't eaten for days, which would most likely allow me to escape.
A pane of glass was missing from the window, and I climbed through
the gap. As soon as I entered, I was choked by a thick layer of dust, almost making me sneeze. The room was cluttered with miscellaneous items, all covered in a thick
layer of dust. The floor was also a mess, filled with trash and disposable lunch boxes. It seemed this
was indeed the man's hideout.
Earlier, to confirm whether the man was home, I had pretended to be lost and knocked on
the door of this rented room. Only after confirming that no one was home did I dare to risk climbing into the room through the window, so
I wasn't worried now.
The room was cluttered with various items, including a cracked cabinet large enough for two or three people to fit
inside. It was a perfect hiding place, especially since it was in the man's room, next to
a simple wooden bed.
I carefully opened the cabinet door, sneaked inside, and quickly covered myself with the blankets again, restoring everything to its original
state. The cabinet smelled pungent, a damp, musty odor. I coughed several
times.
Suddenly, I heard the sound of a key turning in the door. It seemed the man had returned
; I had to hide quickly.
I held my breath, barely daring to make a sound, and obediently curled up in the cabinet
. I absolutely couldn't let the man find me; otherwise, I'd be in serious danger, let alone my mother
.
The man entered the room without making any unnecessary movements. He went straight to the bed, sat down
, and began unbuckling his belt.
What a despicable man; he'd already started preparing. He had already taken off his underwear
, revealing his hairy, thick, black penis.
It really was something a grown man possessed, and looking at him, I suddenly felt a strange pang of envy
.
A few minutes later, Mom pushed open the door and came in.
My heart immediately tightened, a tension tinged with anticipation.
The man hadn't taken off his shirt, nor had he completely pulled down his pants. Seeing Mom enter, he suddenly
stood up; I roughly knew what they were going to exchange.
My hands clenched tightly, almost making a hissing sound, and I stared wide-eyed through the crack in the wardrobe
door at their actions.
I saw Mom calmly watching him as she came to the bedside. Right, Mom was expressionless, but I…
A trace of sadness could still be seen in her eyes, but her gaze was now mostly cold and aloof.
The man remained seated on the bed, motionless, but my mother knelt down. Kneeling
between the man's legs. Then, she opened her mouth and took his penis in!
For the first time, I saw my mother, the pure and innocent woman in my eyes, actually do such a thing. I couldn't help but widen
my eyes, my face instantly burning red.
As my mother took the man's enormous member into her mouth, her eyes were filled with resentment, while the man exhaled and said
, "Damn, that feels good. I never thought your mouth would feel so good."
As the man spoke, my mother's expression suddenly turned somewhat angry, but she didn't stop her actions,
beginning to rapidly swallow and spit out the huge, thick foreign object in her mouth. The man also closed his eyes, his face full of enjoyment
as he savored this "family bliss."
My mother's movements were quick, presumably wanting to end it sooner. She kept swallowing and manipulating the man's genitals,
saliva gradually dripping from the corners of her mouth onto the ground. The man's body swayed accordingly. The faster it
went, the more saliva Mom drooled. It was like the piston-like motion of a syringe! I couldn't think of any
words to describe it; this was the only phrase that came to mind. And being in my adolescence, seeing this scene
even made my lower abdomen feel uncomfortable.
As the man's speed increased and time passed, Mom's expression gradually became contorted.
She wanted to retreat, but the man pressed her head down firmly with his large hand.
Because of her difficulty breathing, Mom tried to reach out and break free. But her hands
were firmly held by the man's other hand. In front of that burly man, Mom's struggles seemed utterly futile
.
"Ugh, ugh, ugh," Mom began to struggle, her eyes wide, her expression showing pain, but
the man wouldn't let go.
For a moment, I really wanted to break down the door and beat that man up, but fear
suppressed everything. I remained motionless, becoming a coward.
The man pressed down on his mother's head, increasing the pressure until her face was buried between his legs,
pressed against his groin. With each powerful thrust, his penis was completely submerged
in her mouth, reaching its deepest point. After a short while, the man pulled away briefly
, and his mother, relieved, began to gasp for air. The man, however, didn't seem to
give her much time to breathe. With his massive member still inside her, he thrust it into her mouth again. This time ,
he pinned her down, half-crouching over her, holding her hand with one hand
and using the other to hold her head still. Then, he began to thrust wildly in her mouth
. After about a minute, he suddenly plunged his entire penis
into her throat, his testicles completely enveloping her mouth. The man seemed
unsatisfied. After withdrawing his enormous member, he thrust it in again with a violent thrust. This time, I felt him
insert it even deeper into my mother's throat. After this action, my mother began to writhe violently
, seemingly trying to struggle free, but it was all in vain; the man's strength was too great.
This continued for a while before he finally pulled out his member, and my mother began to gag
. The man, unconcerned about my mother's discomfort, slowly shoved his member back into her mouth.
"Good girl, lick it now. When I'm satisfied, I'll tell you what you want to know."
My mother's initially resistant gaze vanished upon hearing the latter part of the man's words, replaced by cold indifference.
She stiffly began to extend her tongue, slowly licking every part of the man's member, as if savoring
something. My mother's tongue was small and delicate, and I saw the man's expression of pure enjoyment. I
thought it must be because my mother was licking it so comfortably.
"I didn't expect you to be so skilled, hehe." The man smiled with satisfaction, then lifted Mom's
chin with his hand. His mouth was covered in saliva, making Mom look quite alluring. The man thrust his enormous member
into Mom's mouth, pressed her head against his lower abdomen, and began to thrust.
At this point, I could no longer see Mom's expression, but I could feel her pain. Swallowing a
huge foreign object in her mouth—anyone would find it unbearable.
I clearly saw that a large patch of ground was wet. I didn't know if it was Mom's saliva, or the man
's bodily fluids, or a mixture of both.
The cloudy liquid had splattered all over Mom's body, even onto her shirt. She wasn't dressed too
revealingly today, but her tall figure was still very attractive.
Her previously high-piled hair was now disheveled by the man, falling loosely
over her shoulders like a straw nest. Yet, she still looked beautiful, a kind of beauty tinged with melancholy.
I've forgotten how long this state lasted. I only saw my mother's expression change, from initial
coldness and aloofness to pain and despair, then gradually to numbness, her eyes lifeless, like a corpse
.
The foreign object completely submerged in her mouth showed no sign of being removed, and a white, cloudy liquid overflowed from the corner of her mouth
, flowing down her delicate cheeks and onto her sexy collarbone. Then it soaked her entire clothes.
By now, her clothes were almost completely drenched.
The man seemed unwilling to let my mother go; he still enjoyed toying with her last vestiges of dignity,
tearing her self-respect apart piece by piece, trampling it under his feet. My
mother's breathing had long since become rapid, and tears streamed from the corners of her eyes. Those glistening tears seemed to be her
last vestige of dignity—the humiliation and helplessness of being trampled upon.
After a long while, the man finally released my mother. My mother slumped to the ground, her eyes glazed, her mouth still wide open
, as if dislocated.
Someone was teasingly pinching my mother's chin, forcing her to look him in the eye. She seemed quite pleased with her mother's
actions today.
"Give me..."
"What?"
My mother's weak voice suddenly broke the silence. I pricked up my ears, listening intently to their
conversation. But the complex and agitated emotions from witnessing everything hadn't yet subsided. My face
and ears were still red; seeing that passionate scene had truly made my blood boil.
"Give me what I want..."
My mother seemed to be using all her strength to say this, her voice as soft as a thread.
"Oh? So you're still thinking about that?"
The man teasingly pinched my mother's cheek; even through the cabinet, I could see the mockery in his eyes.
"You..."
"If I really don't want to give it to you, what can you do to me? Are you sure you still have the strength to hit me,
officer?"
The man deliberately emphasized the word "officer." He seemed to have shattered my mother's last shred
of dignity.
A surge of anger welled up in my mother's eyes. She struggled to her feet, angrily picking up her high
heels, intending to smash them against the man's body.
The man easily caught the thrown high heel and continued to look at my mother provocatively.
My mother struggled to raise her fist, trying to hit him, but in her current physical condition,
she was no match for him. The man easily grabbed her arm and slammed her hard onto the cold cement
floor.
My mother gasped in pain, lying on the ground, groaning in agony. The man gradually moved closer to my mother
's face and said softly,
"Don't worry, I'm not that untrustworthy. I was just joking with you, why are you taking it
so seriously?" As he spoke, he slipped a note into my mother's hand. Hiding in the closet, I
was really anxious. I desperately wanted to know what kind of clue it was, but I didn't expect this man to be so
cunning. He actually wrote something down on a note and gave it to my mother; it seemed I wouldn't know anything either.
"I hope you're still alive when our people see you in a few days,"
the man said, then turned and left the room. Like a victorious triumph, he didn't
look at his mother again, as if discarding a toy he'd played with.
His mother clenched her teeth tightly. Two more tears streamed down her face. She
sat silently on the floor, sobbing as she tidied her disheveled hair and clothes, wiping
the murky liquid from her body with a tissue.
Was it really worth sacrificing her dignity and health for information about that so-called organization?
I felt so sorry for her.
After packing everything, she opened the door and staggered out. I
quickly opened the closet, ran out, and then scrambled down from the second floor.
His mother hadn't recovered yet; she certainly wouldn't be able to walk fast. This place was so inconvenient; even hailing a taxi
was impossible. Luckily, I ran fast enough. The dilapidated buildings quickly shrank and disappeared from my sight, finally
leaving me completely behind.
Seeing a taxi, I quickly flagged one down and ran straight home. I
was flustered and flushed the whole way home. The images from earlier kept flashing through my mind, making it impossible for me to remain
calm. The driver looked at me strangely, probably thinking I was a thief trying to escape.
Twenty minutes later, the taxi stopped in front of my house. I quickly slipped into my room, locked the door
, changed out of the clothes I'd used for disguise, and took off my hat. Everything I'd seen today
was so terrifying and stimulating that I was completely still reeling.
Oh right, I hadn't eaten lunch yet. To avoid arousing my mother's suspicion, I quickly made myself
a bowl of instant noodles and took it to my room.
I'd barely stepped inside when the key jingled at the door. I hadn't expected my mother to be back
so quickly.
I pretended to be nonchalant, shoveling mouthfuls of noodles into my bowl. I even deliberately placed
a few books next to the bowl, pretending to read while eating.
This time, my mother was wearing sunglasses. Her hair and clothes were already neatly arranged,
and the liquid on them had been wiped clean. Perhaps she was trying to deliberately conceal her current expression. And unsurprisingly
, as soon as she entered the room and changed her shoes, she went straight to my door and knocked.
"Son, open the door."
I took a deep breath, composed myself, and struck what I thought
was my usual expression in front of the mirror before opening the door.
"Mom, what's wrong? Why are you wearing sunglasses today?"
"Nothing, I guess I was tired from work, I think I have a stye. Didn't I tell you to go out and buy
food? Why are you eating instant noodles again?"
"I don't really want to eat out, I want to eat your cooking, Mom."
After hearing this, Mom suddenly fell silent.
"Son, I'm sorry, I can't cook for you today. You should go out for dinner tonight.
Besides, I'm not feeling well right now, so I need to rest for a while."
Mom's mood was noticeably lower than in the past few days, and unusually, she wasn't paying much attention to me
. It's understandable, though; everything that happened today was too much for her. Even if she were a
policewoman, she would be affected. After all, she's still a woman.
After closing the door, I didn't leave the doorway. Instead, I quietly opened it a crack and watched
my mother's actions outside.
Without hesitation, my mother slipped into the bathroom, not even having time to change her clothes. I tiptoed out of the room
and quietly slipped out. I pressed myself against the crack in the bathroom door, peeking at my mother showering, just like last time.
I saw my mother frantically tear off all her clothes. Then she turned on the shower and started washing
her face. In that instant, I saw her eyes were red and swollen. I wondered
if they were swollen from crying.
Then she started brushing her teeth, picking up the cup and brushing repeatedly dozens of times, even until her gums bled, but
she still wouldn't stop. Suddenly, I felt a pang of heartache for my mother. That
's just how my mother is—so stubborn, unwilling to say anything, silently swallowing all her bitterness
. Is it really worth it for such a small piece of information about my father?
And I heard from her that she's going out again in a few days. Could it be… she still wants to continue her deal with that man
?
This afternoon, besides her workplace, my mother didn't go anywhere else. I followed her all afternoon
but didn't see anything; perhaps I'm just overthinking it. Or maybe her plan is for a few days later.
But every time she goes out, she reminds me to keep an eye out for the lunch and dinner she leaves for me, or
she tells me to buy my own food. Because what she worries about most is me, so weak in front of everyone.
This gives me a chance to know when my mother will go out to exchange information, to know when she has something to do. So now, all I can do is wait patiently. I really want to know 　　what kind of
organization killed my father ?
Or rather, I wanted to see my mother display expressions I'd never seen before, and do
things I'd never witnessed before.
Sometimes, I felt ashamed of these sordid thoughts, but I couldn't control my
curiosity. It was a pent-up urge to seek a peculiar thrill. This thrill stemmed from
my mother, the strict woman who had raised me from childhood.
Sure enough, a few days later, my mother received another mission to go out, presumably to exchange intelligence.
If she hadn't received such important information, she would definitely have come back to make me lunch.
Before noon, I sneaked out of the house and hid near the entrance of my mother's workplace, waiting
for her to come out.
The weather was gradually turning cooler, and many people on the street were starting to wear autumn clothes. Today, my mother was wearing her work
uniform, paired with a tight-fitting work skirt. Although the skirt was long, it accentuated her figure perfectly. Combined with a conservative
white shirt, it highlighted her curves flawlessly.
I wondered where this mission was this time. As usual, Mom hailed a taxi and headed straight for
her destination. I also hailed a taxi and followed closely behind her.
This time, Mom went to a dilapidated residential building. Next to the building was a deliberately
shabby bar and dance hall—clearly not a respectable place.
I hid behind the building and saw Mom standing there talking to a man. The man looked somewhat
familiar; it was the burly man who had previously exchanged oral sex for information with Mom!
Mom naturally didn't give him a friendly look. But she had no choice but to exchange a second
piece of information with him. I wondered what kind of lewd method this man would use to exchange with Mom this time.

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