Tough Act to Follow

tagIncest/TabooTough Act to Follow

Tough Act to Follow
by Trigudis
This is a follow-up to A Roaring Craving (Mature, 12/19/20) and At the End of the Day (Mature, 12/29/20).
Melinda Everette was right. Her son Brian Everette was relieved to know that Wade Kimball, once a good friend, was no longer "schtupping" his mom. Brian also knew, as Wade did, that their friendship would never be the same. In fact, since Brian learned of the affair, he and Wade had spoken just once. It was a strained conversation to say the least. Wade had apologized, but then reminded Brian that his mom had "wanted it as much as me." They were no longer in touch.
The mom-son relationship was strained but not broken. They still spoke by phone. As the weeks passed in that winter of 1986, the outrage Brian had felt over the affair faded. He "forgave" Melinda, if that was the right word. Acceptance was a better word, acceptance for what happened, though Brian couldn't fully comprehend why. However, he had ideas. Brian, like many young guys, harbored his own older woman fantasies. He didn't begrudge Wade his; he had just wished he'd have picked another woman to act them out on. Melinda's motivation was less clear. Sure, Wade was a sharp looking dude and he knew that his mom hadn't had much luck with men her own age. "Things just happened," she had said, "things that typically happen when men and women are attracted to one another, when they have needs and find someone to fill those needs."
He left it at that and went on with his life. His so-called problems paled in comparison to recent events such as the space shuttle Challenger blowing up and the Chernobyl disaster. He was doing well, earning big bucks in finance and in the process of forming his own development company with a group of former Stanford classmates. He was dating, though no one special enough to where he thought of settling down. Los Angeles wasn't that kind of town anyway. Hook-ups were plentiful but so were breakups. He loved L.A., but he also missed his hometown of Baltimore, his old friends (including Wade), his mom and also his dad, an ophthalmologist with a lucrative practice. Leonard Everette, divorced from Melinda, got word of his ex-wife's affair with Wade through his daughter Lisa. Unlike Lisa and Brian, he found it darkly amusing.
Come May, Brian planned to take off work for a week to visit. His relationship with Melinda had thawed to the point where, as during the Christmas holidays, he'd be staying at her condo. He called ahead to a couple friends, including Jay Hellman, the guy who had seen Melinda and Wade kissing at the Memorial Stadium ice rink and then alerted Brian. Of course, he wouldn't be seeing Wade Kimball. That friendship was kaput. Perhaps they'd reconcile in the future, perhaps not. Wade had been okay with keeping the friendship alive, but not Brian, who felt bogged down with a mix of emotions. He felt betrayed and embarrassed. Yet, as much as he tried, as much as he admonished himself, he couldn't deny the erotic charge he got picturing Melinda and Wade getting it on. He wasn't blind to Melinda's feminine charms, her beautiful legs and seductive emerald eyes, her smooth skin and tawny complexion. He didn't blame Wade or any other guy, irrespective of age, for thinking her hot and acting on it. If he wasn't her son…
Of course, he was and he shouldn't be thinking like that. Ever. But he was and it disturbed him more than the affair. He felt like a hypocrite, giving Wade the what for, while picturing Melinda coming into his room wearing those sheer, short nighties she favored for bedtime. One night during his December visit, she had worn one of them, not in the guest room where he slept, but in the kitchen, fixing herself a post-supper snack in full view of Brian. He had gawked, long enough and hard enough to see that she at least had the decorum to wear panties. He had found it more than odd that his mom, so prim and proper about other things, didn't seem the least bit inhibited. Uncomfortable as he felt, he couldn't tear his eyes away from her, sitting at the dining room table, watching her at the kitchen counter, her back to him only yards away. From her bare feet, up to her cute, tight derriere, his eyes wandered and his cock stirred. And when she turned around, holding a plate of cookies and a cup of coffee and then asked, "Want some?" he didn't know what to say.
Want some of WHAT were his first thought, watching her wide, sensuous mouth turned up in a warm, if not teasing sort of grin. "Um, ah, no, not now, mom," he stammered, staring at her bare titties through the thin material. She then said goodnight and repaired to her bedroom, leaving him struggling to keep from getting a full erection and ashamed for having to put forth such an effort. He also struggled with the notion that she had been trying to seduce him. Outrageous. Impossible. Out of character. He was merely projecting, he thought, and pushed the idea into the deep recesses of his mind, hoping it would stay there.
He flew into Baltimore on a Friday afternoon, rented a late model Lincoln from Hertz and then drove to Melinda's condo in Baltimore County. It felt nice to get away from the stress of his job. Still, work was never far from his concerns, especially now that Renaissance Partners, his urban development firm, was off the ground. How different things looked and felt in the East from last December to the so-called merry month of May. Flowers and trees were in full bloom and the balmy breezes of spring drifted in like sweet music long missed and now finally here. It was weather he now took for granted living in Southern California. Melinda had talked about moving out West to be closer to him and Lisa. So far, though, she hadn't made the move. He wondered if she ever would because most of her close friends still lived in Maryland.
She greeted him with a hug and a kiss wearing a denim skirt, a white cotton blouse and flat house shoes, casual spring wear that nobody would call revealing. Yet those ideas about seduction emerged once again, reinforced by a flashback of the "coffee and cookies" incident, as he now called it. "Great seeing you, mom," he said, setting down his two pieces of Louis Vuitton luggage on the carpet.
"Great seeing you, son," she said, looking at him in his casual blue Docker slacks and open collar, long-sleeve, button-down, blue and white striped dress shirt. "I've looked forward to your company for weeks." She reached up and tousled his hair, still worn in that early Beatles style that to him never grew old.
Melinda, however, had changed her hairstyle from the way she had worn it last December. Her once straight, short brown locks now dropped a couple inches below her shoulders in waves and layers. Brian noticed, and Melinda noticed him noticing. "You like? It's more in keeping with how gals are wearing it today, even older gals like me."
He did like it, made her look sexier, though he wasn't going to say that. "Very nice," he said.
"Thanks. Meanwhile, you can put your luggage in the guest room and maybe freshen up a bit because I've made dinner reservations for us at Gordon's."
Gordon's had been a Baltimore institution since Eisenhower was president. It wasn't trendy or particularly fancy, but it served great food at reasonable prices and Brian loved it. In fact, when his parents were still married, they used to go as a family every few weeks. "Mom, that would be great," he said. "I haven't been there in years, since moving to California. Been there lately?"
"Hmm…I haven't been there since…oh, I remember, though it's not a particularly fond memory. A guy, one of those winners (she rolled her eyes sarcastically) I met through Parents Without Partners, took me there on a first date. First and last."
Brian knew his mom hadn't had much luck finding men she felt excited about. Which made her recent affair with Wade Kimball all the more puzzling. Somehow, a guy she once held in contempt became her lover and most likely would have remained so had Wade not fully committed to Susan Radebaugh, his current main squeeze. Brian knew that Melinda took their breakup hard, though he was relieved to see it end. He felt bad about his own breakup with Wade, a close friend since they were kids. Water under the bridge now, he thought.
He went into the bathroom to wash up, while Melinda slipped into low heels. Brian volunteered to drive, telling her that the Lincoln "rides like a dream."
The drive south on I-83 from the suburbs would get them there in fifteen to twenty minutes. On the way, discussion centered around work, his and hers, but mostly about Brian's venture into real estate development. Melinda found it exciting that he and his partners would be renovating old housing stock into upscale living spaces. "There's been lots of gentrification in this city also," she said. "But I guess you knew that."
Brian nodded. In fact, the gentrification of Baltimore's inner harbor neighborhoods had been national news. "That's kind of what we're doing, but the housing stock, the architecture is different," he said.
"Do you have a CEO?"
"That would be me."
Melinda drew a proud beam and patted his leg. "My accomplished son. Well, I guess I'm not surprised. We knew you were going places when you were making the dean's list every year at Roxborough."
Brian turned and smiled. He kind of knew it back then also. And when he got into Stanford, his confidence about being successful in his professional life soared. He couldn't help but think of Wade, who hadn't been nearly as "successful," and the times that Brian let him know it when they were both in school. While Brian was making his As at the private Roxborough, Wade was barely getting by in public school, making Cs and Ds and usually flunking math every quarter. Brian had to wonder if part of Wade's motivation in schtupping his mom was payback for Brian's subtle and sometimes not so subtle digs regarding his mediocre schoolwork. If so, that was one hell of a payback.
"Mom, have you spoken to Wade since that confrontation last January?" Brian asked, pulling up to a parking meter, which he didn't have to feed because it was just after six. His reference was to the time when Melinda went over to Wade's apartment to be alone with him, only to find him and Susan spending the night together.
"Actually, I called him once to see how he was doing. We had a nice little chat but that was it." She looked down and shook her head.
"You miss him, don't you? I'm sorry I gave you such a hard time over it."
She reached over and squeezed his hand. "Not your fault. Any young man in your position would have reacted the same way. Besides that, it's time to move on."
Wade's name didn't resurface during dinner. They talked more about Brian's new company over crab cakes, sides of coleslaw and squash. Melinda raised her glass of Tempranillo in a toast. "To you and Renaissance Partners, wishing you great success and not doubting for a minute that you'll achieve it."
They decided to skip desert in favor of walking a few blocks to the inner harbor pavilions for some frozen yogurt. Harbor Place, as it was called, had opened six years before with much fanfare, and it had remained a popular tourist spot for locals and out-of-towners alike. Crime and grime would descend on this place a couple decades later. But in 1986, it was still shiny and safe and Harbor Place merchants did a brisk business during the warm months. That included the Yogurt Tree, where Brian and Melinda got chocolate and then took their order outside to consume it at one of the small tables set up on the brick promenade. It was an ideal spot to talk or just people watch. Nearby, water taxis churned from one end of the harbor to the other, and sailboats could be seen in the distance in the fading light of day.
Brian hadn't thought much about the "coffee and cookies" incident since they left Melinda's condo. But now he did—the catalyst being the erotic way she licked the treat from her wooden spoon. So sensuous, he thought, the way her tongue stabbed into the chocolate and the way she smiled doing it, as if she could read his thoughts and liked what he was thinking. She pursed her sensuous lips every few bites. "Mmm, so good," she cooed, and looked at him the way he'd seen sexy women look in TV commercials, selling everything from cars to food through sex. "Don't you agree?"
"Ah, sure, mom, absolutely," he said. He didn't know what else to say, especially when he felt her foot brush up against the back of his calve and his cock responded the way cocks do when the right stimulus comes along. Never mind that moms aren't supposed to be the right stimulus—something was happening, something so surreal and unexpected that all he could do was sit there in silence, smiling wanly through his thin lips and brushing a hand through his thick, early Beatles hair.
"I'll stop if you'd like," Melinda said, licking her yogurt with a mischievous grin.
"Um, well, maybe for now," he managed to say, sliding his chair back a couple inches.
She wiped her mouth and giggled. Then, after setting her cup down on the table, she looked him in the eye and said, "For now? That implies you might be amenable to something of this sort later on. No?" She could see his Adam's apple move when he swallowed hard. She sighed and shook her head. "Look, I'm sorry if I'm embarrassing you. Guess I got carried away."
He began to stir the melting yogurt in his cup. "Carried away with what?"
Staring off into the distance, she let a few moments pass before answering. "Not to make excuses, but I think that what happened with Wade screwed me up in some way. Hard to explain." She shook her head and scooped another bite from her cup. Then: "Of course, to be honest, Wade didn't have much to do with something inappropriate I did when you stayed with me over Christmas holiday."
Was she referring to the coffee and cookies incident? He wasn't going to assume anything at this point. "What was that?"
"Something I shouldn't have done. I mean, moms shouldn't walk around half-naked in front of their sons. You remember, I'm sure, because I'll never forget the way you looked at me." She paused, grinning at the nervous tension she could see in his face, his brown eyes blinking, his lips moving with a slight tremble. "Kind of the way you're looking at me now."
He slipped out a nervous giggle. "You're now fully dressed. That time in the kitchen, you had nothing on but this transparent nightgown. Mom, be honest with me. Was that by accident or design? I mean, you knew I was in the dining room."
"I did, yes. But no, I wasn't trying to seduce you, if that's what you mean. But since we're talking candidly, the way you looked at me…Listen, women like to be admired, especially women going into middle age. It stokes our fragile ego, tells us we still have it. Yes, you're my son, but that didn't keep me from enjoying your cute reaction."
"Cute…"
"Yes, cute, shyly ogling your mama, your complexion turning a light shade of pink while staring at my…well, you know what you saw."
He did indeed, the picture still vivid in his mind as if she were standing right in front of him at that very moment, saucer and coffee cup in hand, grinning as he perused her exposed titties and beautiful legs and those little yellow panties, worn tight enough where he could see the outline of her pussy. "Not easily forgotten."
"Gawd, I hope I didn't traumatize you!" She leaned forward and smacked him on the hand, laughing.
He laughed with her. Then: "Not likely. I'd seen you naked before. But it had been years ago, before I liked girls."
The conversation hit a momentary lull, a timeout for them to absorb what was said and to enjoy the scenery, the parade of people strolling by and the boats. Brian ruminated over whether he should ask the question that had plagued him since the incident, that up to now he dared not ask. Now, however, he was feeling bolder, less inhibited. "Mom, let's say I had followed you into your bedroom that night. Then what?"
"I would have shared one of my cookies with you. I seem to remember asking if you wanted one." She grinned, expecting him to laugh along. Then, when she could see that he wanted a serious response, she said, "Okay, not to share my cookies. Well, at least not ONLY to share my cookies."
He nodded. "So, we would have, um, gotten intimate?"
"Well, honestly, son, I'm not sure. But if that's what you wanted, I suspect you would have been a bit shy in showing me. Then it would have been up to me to lead the way. As to specifics, use your imagination." She pursed her lips, then opened her mouth and wiggled her tongue. "If you get my drift."
He got it all right, along with an erection culled from the imagination that she had just told him to use. She further stoked the flames of his erotic passion when she opened the top button of her blouse, fanned herself and said, "You know, Brian, it's getting quite warm out here and I don't mean because of the weather. Are you feeling the heat also?"
He could feel his cock pressing against the crotch of his Dockers. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Feeling the heat to the point where I can see myself taking you up on those cookies. If you get MY drift." He had just crossed a line that before tonight he never imagined crossing. In his fantasies, yes, but not in reality, not in the flesh, so to speak. If this wasn't the point of no return, it was damn close. And speaking of drifts, he could feel himself drifting toward that proverbial point, scary yet undeniably exciting in the anticipation alone.
She extended her leg and once again and brushed her foot against his calve. "This time, I hope you won't move back."
He didn't. Instead, he bent down, reached under the table and ran his hands over her bare calves. "Your skin is smooth as silk, mom."
She looked around, turned her head this way and that in the self-conscious way people do when they're doing something that shouldn't be done in public. "That feels good, but maybe we should wait until—" Ohmygod, now she could feel him reach under her skirt and slide his hands over her thighs. "Ah, Brian, baby, I think we might be drawing unwanted attention—" Ooo, the tingle of his finger sliding over her panties almost knocked her over. "Oh my…ahhh…ooo…Brian, please, you're going to make me—"
He popped up like a jack-in-the-box. "Sorry, mom, I got carried away. If I'm not mistaken, you feel wet down there."
She rubbed the back of her neck while taking a few deep breaths. "Whew! No, you're not mistaken. And if this goes any further, we'll both be arrested." She fanned herself again while eyeing the men in blue, strolling along the promenade on patrol.
"Maybe it's time we split," he said.
She nodded. "No maybes. Let's go."
After trashing their empty cups, they hurried past the strolling tourists, then up Calvert Street to Brian's rented Lincoln. "Mom, what was that you started to say back there?" he asked before turning the ignition. "Something about I was going to make you…what?"
"Do I really need to spell it out? Had what you were doing gone on much longer, I would have climaxed right there on the promenade." She lifted her skirt. "Here, feel this."
He did, reached over and did what he did on the promenade, getting rock-hard in the process watching her throw her head back, moaning as she did there only louder. Then, when he saw a group of people happen by, he pulled away, turned the key and drove off.
*****
"Now sit right there until I come back," Melinda said. "I won't be long."
Brian took a seat at the dining room table. He sensed what was going to come next. But, not to spoil the mood, he did as he was told, no questions asked. He heard her bedroom door close. Then, minutes later, she came out wearing what she wore that night when Brian could do little more than gawk. He gawked this time, too, stared wide-eyed at his mom, barefoot in her sheer blue nightie, her little yellow panties snug against her crotch, her nipples pressed against the material, her slim, luscious legs hanging out. If this woman wasn't the ultimate picture of sensual, middle-age sexuality, he didn't know who was. Those legs, ohmygod, those legs—smooth, shapely and cellulite-free—legs presumably that would soon be wrapped around his slender waist.

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