Secrets of a Slut Mother

[JoeWhite1]

Cherry had been forced to find work after her husband abandoned her and their daughter Jane 10 years previously because he accused her of not being able to give him a son. The reason for that was that when Jane was born the birth was very difficult, and the doctor warned Cherry that another birth would probably kill her, so she agreed to have her tubes tied, but her husband did not know this. She knew that he would not have believed the doctor, but after years of trying to make her pregnant again, he gave up and left to find a woman who could provide him with a son. As there is no divorce in Philippines, Cherry could not demand maintenance from him, even if she knew where he was. However, for the last 10 years, Cherry had managed to support herself and Jane, including paying for Jane’s University education.

Now, Cherry was 46, and Jane was 23 and about to graduate from University with a degree in nursing, and had begun working as a trainee nurse at the local hospital in Manila for the practical requirement of her degree. And that’s when Cherry’s secret of how she had managed to support them both for 10 years was finally revealed.

And the lives of mother and daughter would never be the same again.
Jane was not supposed to be on duty that Saturday night, but the hospital was short-staffed, and they had called her earlier in the evening and asked if she could help out. Jane was bored and alone – there was only so much TikTok she could watch before it became boring; her mother had gone to work as she always did on a Friday and Saturday evening; and her boyfriend, Gary, was away visiting his mother in the province where he had been born because she was ill, and she needed someone to look after her. Gary had two sisters, but they were married and lived in Manila with young children to take care of, and Gary had just graduated and not yet found a job. So, Jane readily agreed to cover a night shift, especially as she could spend Sunday sleeping.

At the hospital, they assigned her to help in the Emergency Room (ER) where anyone suffering from sudden illness or accident injuries would walk in and receive treatment free of charge. The worst injuries usually arrived at about midnight when young guys who had had too much to drink started fighting and managed to hurt each other or when the users of shabu became paranoid and attacked other drug users who they believed were ghosts or the police or a million other drug-driven hallucinatory ideas.

Jane had never worked a night shift before, so it was a new experience for her to assist in treating the typical injuries that had been caused by alcohol or drug induced violence. When she asked if the patients ever became violent towards the staff, she was told that it happened sometimes, but there were security guards whose job was to make sure that the medical staff were secure and the violent patients were restrained.

Nothing upsetting happened to Jane that night, and by 2 a.m. the stream of injured or ill patients had slowed to a trickle.

Jane was able to relax and take a break at that time. She was feeling a bit sleepy, so she headed to the break room, which was situated just across from the main reception desk of the ER, in search of a cup of coffee to wake her up. In the room she found two older nurses also drinking coffee and chatting.
Having found a paper cup, Jane made herself a cup of coffee that she sipped slowly. The two older nurses welcomed her and suggested that she should sit down.

“Always take the opportunity to sit when you can,” one said. “You never know how long you might have to be on your feet, and it’s not good for your circulation to stand for a really long time.”

So, Jane sat and began chatting to the two older women. They were curious about her college degree because when they had trained as nurses, it was more practical than theoretical, so although they probably knew more about nursing than Jane, she probably had a broader knowledge of medicine than they did.

However, one thing they definitely knew more about was what it was like to work on a night shift in a busy ER.

And that is what Jane wanted to know more about.

“Are most of the patients injured because of fighting?” she asked.

“Well, we sometimes have car or motorbike crash injuries to deal with,” one replied. “Then there are domestic violence cases. Those can be really sad because even though the woman has been attacked by her partner, she usually refuses to file a case against him with the police, and after we have patched her up, she returns to her abuser.”

“And of course, we have to deal with the putas who get beaten up by their pimps for not earning enough,” said the other nurse.

“Anyway, you’ll soon see the violence against women cases. They usually arrive at around 3 a.m. for some reason.”

And with that, the two older nurses, threw their empty paper coffee cups into the garbage, and rose to their feet to return to their duty.

Jane was about to follow them, but as she opened the door to the break room, she stood for a moment to smooth and straighten her uniform.

And that’s when she saw a familiar figure at the reception desk.

The woman, for it was a woman that she saw, had her back to Jane, but she knew instantly that there was only one person it could be - her mother Cherry - even though her long black hair was all messy and not nicely hanging down her back as usual.

Jane was just about to rush out to see why her mother was in the ER at such an hour when she heard the receptionist ask what had happened. Somehow, she stopped where she was so that she could hear her mother’s answer. She really didn’t know why she did that, but maybe it was the chat about women who had suffered violence that made her consider whether her mother might be one of those victims.

And to her surprise, Cherry answered that she had been hit by her husband.

Jane could see that she had lifted her left hand to point to the side of her face.

The receptionist nodded, and signaled to Cherry that she should go with a nearby nurse to have her injury examined. Jane watched as Cherry was led away towards the curtained examination cubicles each of which contained a bed for the injured and sick to rest while waiting to be diagnosed by a doctor. This area was to the right of where Jane was still hovering in the open doorway of the break room so that Cherry was not able to see her as she followed the nurse to an empty examination cubicle.

Since Cherry’s husband, Jane’s father, had not been in touch for the last 10 years, Jane was puzzled by why he had suddenly reappeared, how he had known where to find her mother, and why he had hurt her.

So, she walked to the examination area, and seeing that the cubicle next to where her mother had been taken by the nurse was empty, she entered and closed the curtains indicating to other nurses that this cubicle was not free for use.

Getting as close as possible to the curtain separating the two cubicles, Jane was able to make out the conversation between the nurse and her mother. The sound was not perfect, but the ER was fairly quiet at that time of the late night, so there was little background noise to prevent her hearing what was being said by the nurse and her mother.

The nurse was asking Cherry how her face had been injured and as Jane continued to listen, she heard Cherry explain that when she came home from her job as a singer in a band, her husband was awake and drunk. He started an argument, accusing her of having an affair with another member of the band in spite of it not being remotely true.

Jane’s right hand flew upwards to stop her open mouth from making a sound. “What the hell is she saying?” she muttered under her breath.

Jane continued to hear her mother explain a long story of trying to calm her husband down, but he refused to listen to her. She said he called her a lot of really nasty and hurtful names like bitch, whore, slut and accused her of fucking the whole band.

When she tried to get him to stop and begged him to go to bed, the word ‘bed’ seemed to trigger even more rage in him and that’s when he hit her really hard on the left side of her face. Cherry said that she had tried to escape by entering the small toilet (known as Comfort Room or CR in Philippines) just off the kitchen, but she slipped in her hurry and had fallen down. That’s when she hit her forehead on the edge of the sink in the room as she fell and she had felt blood starting to trickle down, making a mess of her makeup as it did so.

Then in a low voice, she confessed that the most shameful thing had happened next. After she fell, she found herself lying on the tiled floor of the CR and her husband had followed her, still angry and seeking for ways to punish her for the imaginary insult of making him a cuckold with multiple men.
He soon found the means to punish her.

He dropped his shorts, pulled his cock out of his underwear, and aimed it at her.

Then he pissed on her head and face, and that’s why her hair was messed and matted, and her makeup ruined.

As she explained the sordid scene to the nurse, Cherry’s voice broke and she started sobbing.

The nurse tried to comfort her, but Cherry continued to cry pitifully. Then the nurse said that she would leave Cherry for 15 minutes while she arranged to take her to X-Ray her face in case her jaw was broken or dislocated. Cherry did not reply, but continued to cry.

However, two minutes after Jane heard the nurse leave the cubicle, the sound of sobbing stopped as suddenly as it had started and Jane heard a little giggle from her mother’s cubicle.

Jane was horrified at the way her mother had lied and cried so convincingly, and made the nurse believe her story.

But Jane knew that this could not be true because there was no CR off the kitchen in their house. And besides, her father did not drink so far as she could remember because he suffered from a kidney problem that meant he could not drink more than a small glass of light beer.

So why was Cherry inventing this story?

Jane knew she would have to confront her mother, but now was not the time or place.

That would have to wait until the morning.

[funfox]

Nice 👍 please continue

[JoeWhite1]

Jane peeked out of the cubicle she was in and saw that the curtains around the one next to hers were still closed completely. So, she slipped out into the corridor and back to the reception area. She did not want her mom to see her there, so she used the stairs to go up one floor where the wards for sick children were. She knew that she would not be seen by her mother in that area because X-Ray Department was on the fourth floor. Although Jane had been asked to come in to work because of staff being off sick, when she arrived, the Charge Nurse had told her that they needed help in a number of wards, so she was free to choose whichever she liked to help on. The first ward she went to was the geriatric ward with elderly patients who were ill and who had no family to take care of them, so they would probably remain in the hospital until they recovered or died. The atmosphere on that ward was depressing, so Jane had asked if she could change before she went for her break, and her request was granted. So that’s why she was able to remain hidden from her mother on the children’s ward until the shift change at 6 am.

There was very little to do during the remainder of the night until it was time to go home, so Jane had a lot of time to reflect on what she had seen and heard earlier in the night. Jane had a logical mind, so she ticked things off mentally as if she were making a list.

First was the fact that her mother had somehow received the injuries she had described. Her face was swollen and she may have dislocated her jaw. She had a cut on her forehead.

Second, and the most disgusting thing, a man had pissed on her face and hair.

Third, where had this taken place because it definitely had not happened in their home? It was possibly somewhere near the hospital because Cherry would probably have been ashamed to let any driver see how she looked. So, she had probably walked to the hospital.

Fourth, who had been responsible? It was obviously a man or men who had done this.

Fifth. Why?

Jane looked at all these points one by one, but she was unable to come up with any explanation about what had happened. The only point she could manage to find a possible answer was the third one – the place where this had happened. Jane knew that her mother was a singer in a band, but she did not know where the band usually played. She had asked her mother before, but the answer was vague. Cherry had simply replied “We play in a lot of different clubs” and then changed the subject.

When 6 am came, Jane was free to leave her duty as soon as the next shift had arrived. Actually, the nurses on that shift arrived early because they had to be briefed on anything that had happened during the night, but, as Jane was only a trainee, she was not responsible for any handover. This meant that she was free to leave the hospital at 5.45 am.

At that time of the morning, Manila was just starting to come alive. There were a number of people on their way to work, but being Sunday offices would be mostly closed, so the streets were quite quiet. This gave Jane the opportunity to investigate the neighborhood of the hospital which she had not been able to do on her previous visits during the day.

She remembered the discussion the two older nurses had had about the putas whose pimps sometimes beat if they did not earn enough money. They had said that the women and girls always walked in to be treated, so, logically, there must be someplace nearby where these whores worked.

Outside San Lazaro Hospital where she had just completed her first night shift, Jane opened her cell phone and started to search for places where whores might be found. She had never had any reason to suspect that her mom’s job was anything other than as a singer in a band, but having heard what happened last night she was starting to wonder whether this was the full story.

What she found was one street where there were several bars which was not unusual in Manila, but in the same street were two sex shops. That was not so common, so Jane decided that she should investigate further.

Looking around, she saw a row of toda tricycles parked near the hospital entrance. These were small motorbikes with an attached covered sidecar just big enough for 2 people (or 3 if they were small). This type of transportation was used for short distance trips as they were much cheaper than jeepneys or taxis, and they could be found everywhere. So, without thinking what she would do there, she approached the toda rank and asked how much to take her to Borgas Street.

At the mention of the street name, the half-asleep driver in the first toda in the line looked up slightly puzzled at seeing Jane in her nurse’s uniform. He leered at her and muttered ‘puta’ under his breath. Jane barely heard what he had said, so she did not make a huge scene, but she told him to have some manners and stop using such language with a decent girl who was a paying customer.

Although Jane was 23 and still a student, she had a hot temper at times, especially if she was tired like she was then. The toda driver looked embarrassed, and spitting on the ground, he gestured to Jane to get into the toda, started the engine, and began the short drive to Borgas Street that she could actually have walked to if she had been familiar with the way.

When they arrived at Borgas Street, Jane told the driver to stop at one end as it was a short street that connected two larger streets. After paying the driver the small fare, Jane got out of the toda, and waited until the machine had driven off before starting to investigate the street.

Borgas Street had a slightly seedy and rundown look about it. The buildings were older, and some even had roofs made of corrugated iron. The pavement was cracked and broken in places, and weeds had grown up between the cracks. There were potholes in the street and rubbish was strewn about in a few vacant lots. Overall, it did not make Jane feel comfortable being there, so she was thankful that it was still early in the morning and there were no other people in sight.

Jane removed a face mask from the pocket of her uniform, and quickly covered her nose and mouth with it. There was no way of knowing what kind of diseases such a street might be harboring.

Slowly, Jane walked along the street, carefully looking at each building in turn to see if there were any clues that might connect her mom and her injuries. She passed a bar, and then another, both with gaudy neon signs which flashed the names of the bars, but also flashed the outline of a woman sitting with legs crossed and holding out a drink.

Then she saw one of the sex shops and paused in front of its window. There were flimsy and revealing underwear sets featured and also a selection of sex toys such as dildos as well as items for bondage and uniforms for roleplay.

Shaking her head in disbelief at the lewd display, Jane walked on. She could see that there were three other bars on the street, all seeming to use the same type of neon sign advertising with a woman and a drink being the main feature. She had almost decided to walk to the end of the street where she should be able to find a toda or a jeepney on the larger street when she heard music coming from the door of one of the bars.

Jane was surprised at the noise because it was still early in the morning. Then she realized that perhaps it was actually a continuation of the night before for that bar. As she had that thought, the door of the bar opened and the beat of the music grew louder.

Jane could smell the stale beer and the overwhelming smell of old cigarette smoke, and she took a step backwards to escape the smell. It was lucky that she did so because two people came staggering out of the open door.

One was a man who was being supported by a woman wearing a miniskirt, a low-cut blouse, and boots that reached to her knees. They both staggered off to a building across the street that advertised itself as a Love Hotel at hourly rates.

In spite of her disgust at the bad smell coming through the open door, Jane decided that she should go into the bar to see what it was like, so clutching her face mask tighter, she ventured into the dimly-lit interior.

Although the music was coming through speakers, Jane could see that there was a small raised stage at one end of the room. There were drums, amps and mics left in place for a live band to play. The only people in the bar were two women sitting at tables. They both had their heads resting on the tables and appeared to be asleep. There was also a man behind the bar who was perched on a stool.

On an impulse, Jane approached this man who was taller than the average Filipino man, and who obviously spent time lifting weights in the gym judging by the muscles in his arms that were exposed by the sleeveless T-shirt he was wearing.

Jane always carried a photo of Cherry in her purse with details of how to contact her in case of emergency. She also carried a small canister of pepper spray. This had been Cherry’s idea when Jane started her course at the university as a safety measure because there were so many stories of young girls being molested and even raped in the city.

The barman raised an eyebrow at the sight of Jane in her nurse’s uniform, but he only asked her if he could help her.

Jane opened her purse, and reached in to take out the card that carried her mother’s photo.

“Have you ever seen this woman here?” she asked, showing him the card.

The man took the offered card and squinted in the dim light. He looked carefully, and then he replied “Yes, that’s Cherry who sings in the band here every weekend and sometimes other nights.”

Then he continued, “Is she ok? I heard what happened last night when she left with that guy. That sort of thing is not good for business. Word gets around that guys can beat up the girls and soon you don’t have any customers looking for a good time with a woman. All you get is the nasty crowd who like to hit and beat women, and soon they are your only customers.”

The man continued staring at the woman’s photo. “Cherry is one of our best girls. She commands the highest bar fine when she agrees to go across the street with a guy after she has finished singing. I’d hate to lose her from our stable because she is the reason a lot of guys come here. They have heard about the great service she gives, but she’s very choosy about who she agrees to fuck.”

Suddenly the barman realized that he was not talking to some male customer, but to Jane.

“Oh, sorry miss. Don’t take any notice of me. I’m just rambling. It’s been a long night and I’m tired.” And with that, he handed the photo back to Jane, got off the stool, and walked to the far end of the bar.

Jane was stunned at what she had just heard, but managed to put the photo back in her purse and walk to the door.

Once she was in the street, she felt the anger and shame well up inside her.

Her mother who she loved was a whore, a slut, a puta, a bitch spreading her legs for strange men for money! That was the thought that sent Jane into a rage that could not be calmed by anything her mother might say to her in explanation.

Immediately, she ran to the corner and flagged down a passing taxi to take her home. She did not care about the expense. All she wanted to do was confront her mother and tell her that she knew that she was a common whore with no shame and no morals.

That anger sustained her until the taxi arrived at the apartment she shared with Cherry.

Having paid, she got out and taking a deep breath, she turned the key in the apartment door, and entered the silent home.