Erin sighed as sunlight spilled over her face. Winter always seemed to last too long. Autumn was her favorite season but nothing compared to the first warm rays of spring. The thump of the front door roused her from her languorous state.
"Hey mom, I'm home," called Jacob's familiar voice.
"I'm in the kitchen."
Jacob's youthful face rounded the dining room wall.
"Hun, why are you late?" Erin asked.
"That's my fault Ms. Sinclair," answered James. "I apologize."
"Is it just the two of you?" she inquired.
Erin had been worried when the unlikely friendship had begun. Her son spending time with someone five years his senior seemed odd. Why would a teenager in his prime opt to hang out with a thirteen year old? At that age she only had eyes for those in her class or one year her senior. Granted there weren't any boys around Jacob's age in the neighborhood, but making friends with fellow classmates was more logical.
Polite inquires around the neighborhood were made. James mowed Ruth Rosewater's lawn in the summer and shoveled the walk after snow storms. The only forms of payment he accepted were slices of cake or pie. The only complaint she had found came from Mr. Ott.
"That boy drives that silly foreign car of his too fast and plays his music too loud," he said.
A month or so after the friendship began two more high school seniors, Shawn and Trevor, appeared. The inseparable and unlikely duo became a foursome. In an effort to allay her concerns Erin invited the other mothers for coffee at a local shop. Idle chatter was mixed with frank, honest discussions of the young men.
James' mother, Ellen, had been very complimentary concerning Jacob's manners and assured Erin that she would watch over Jacob as if he was her own. Each mother assured her that her son was not a troubled boy. The following day, while chewing her bottom lip, Erin paid fifteen dollars to a website to run background checks on James, Trevor, and Shawn. The results were spotless.
"May we go downstairs and play video games?" asked Jacob.
Erin smiled. "Sure. A casserole is in the oven and should be ready in thirty minutes."
The boys swiftly disappeared. A short time later, the sounds of gunfire and explosions wafted up the stairs. Sitting in her dining room Erin's eyes roamed her ceiling while lost in thought. Jacob had always been a quite, shy boy. James' friendship had drawn him out of his shell.
She had been in the kitchen preparing dinner one day when Jacob barged in and animatedly regaled her with a tale of a hotly contested round of Frisbee golf at nearby park. He had scored a birdie on the final hole that had clinched a win for his and James' team. The beaming smile on Jacob's face had melted away her worries. Begrudgingly, she had to admit that the unusual friendship filled a void in her son's life that she could not address herself.
With a vexed click of her tongue, Erin noticed a burned out bulb in one of the recessed lights. She heaved herself out of the chair and retrieved a small step ladder and a spare bulb. Up on her toes Erin frantically twisted her wrist in an effort to set the new bulb into place before her arm got tired. She cursed as her hard soled shoes slipped on the metal ladder step. A hand grabbed her waist while the other settled on her backside.
"Careful there, Ms. Sinclair," said James.
As she climbed down, the hand on her hip slid upwards to quickly cup her breast.
James patted her on the back. "Good thing I came up to get a drink."
Erin was dumbfounded. The touch had been so quick. Was it an accident? Had James meant to touch her?
Minutes passed as she was consumed by the internal debate. The oven's buzzer pulled her back to the present. Moments after she called, the boys emerged from the basement. James' behavior was no different.
"You are welcome to stay James," Erin offered.
"Thank you, but I've been eating here often enough my mom's getting jealous. I think I should go home and make amends."
She walked him to the door and watched as he climbed into his plain, white Toyota. The engine roared as he pulled away from the curb and blazed down the street. Mr. Ott, seated on his front porch, shook his fist at the car as it sped by.
Weeks passed in the hasty way that spring weeks do. No other inappropriate contact occurred, though James had developed a habit of touching her. A hand on her shoulder, a gentle touch on the arm to draw her attention, or a palm against her back to let her know he was there. Never was the contact improper, namely pawing or lingering too long. So Erin bit back her objections and in time became used to the contact.
After repeated begging and bargaining by Jacob, Erin relented and allowed a movie and video game night. She sat at the dining room table while her home was filled with frenetic teenage conversation. Empty pizza boxes and soda bottles lined the table. Erin was slightly aghast at the amount of food young boys could consume without any signs of distress.
"Ready for me to shoot you in the face?" asked Jacob.
"Bring it on little man," replied Shawn.
The boys bolted from the table. Before he left the room James stopped and turned around.
"Thank you for dinner Ms. Sinclair," said James before following his friends.
Erin busied herself with cleaning up the remains of dinner and addressing other small tasks around the house. Only twice did she have to ask the boys to keep the volume down. As the night stretched on, she slipped into more comfortable clothing, scooped up several movies, a glass of wine, and settled onto the couch.
At the beginning of her third movie the house had grown dark and the basement quiet. As the protagonist of the story finally yet reluctantly admitted his love, James slipped onto the couch. In the soft light of the flickering television his face was youthful and unreadable.
"Jacob, Shawn, and Trevor are out cold. I can't sleep. Oh, I'll refill that for you."
Before she could decline, James snatched up her wine glass and disappeared into the darkness. He returned with her drink and a tall glass of ice and soda for himself. As the tension between the two unlikely on-screen lovers grew, Erin's wineglass was refilled several times.
James settled onto the couch as he placed her full glass carefully on a coaster. The air conditioning had finally overtaken the record breaking heat of the day. As her body's metabolism slowed down and prepared for sleep, the cool air raised goose pimples across her skin. With the teenager sitting so close that their hips touched, Erin became acutely aware of her conspicuously hard nipples.
"A little cold?" James asked.
In response to her brief nod, he slipped his left arm over her shoulder and pulled her close. Erin attempted to politely shrug him off, but only resulted in pressing herself against him. His hand cupped her shoulder while his fingers gently traced with thin strap of her tank top. The light from the television glinted in his blue eyes while he idly sipped on his soda. As the on-screen lovers shared their first kiss Erin felt fingers slip the straps off her shoulder and slid the material below her breasts.
"James wait ... Oh," she gasped as his mouth closed over her right nipple and a cold tongue caressed her sending a shiver down her spine. Warm, calloused fingers traced the curve of her shoulder, brushed the back of her neck, and entangled themselves in her hair. With gentle yet steady pressure, her head was pulled backwards until she was staring up at the ceiling.
Erin jumped as teeth nipped at her sensitive skin. James shifted his position while his other hand cupped and caressed her through her shorts. Attempting to defend herself, she closed her legs as best she could but it only resulted in trapping the offending hand in place. Saliva left from the departed mouth cooled and caused her nipple to harden further and ache deliciously.
All protests that formed in her mind resulted in wordless sounds escaping her mouth as the blonde teen molested her. She struggled, but with her head controlled her range of movement was limited. Each time James simply adjusted his posture and reasserted control.
Little sparks of sensation rolled down her ribs and settled below her navel as James focused on her nipples. Erin lost track of time as lips, tongue, and teeth teased her nipples all the while the hand between her legs maintained a constant, kneading pressure.
After a particularly loud gasp escaped her lips the hand left her hair, the teasing ceased, and her top was pulled back into position. With a pat on the top of her head James departed. In two heartbeats she bolted from the couch, stumbled up the stairs, and locked herself in her bathroom.
Mouth open and panting she considered her reflection in the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes had a vacant, shocked look. James' saliva had turned parts of the white top transparent leaving the dark shadows of her nipples clearly visible.
Erin slumped to the floor, leaned forward, and rested her cheek against the edge of the bathtub. The cool tiles felt good against her knees. Her son's best friend had simply sampled her in her own home. Her underwear clinging tightly to her body betrayed her level of arousal. She was wet. Tears of shame ran down her cheeks as her aching nipples begged for attention.
By the time she forced herself out of bed the next morning and slowly walked downstairs, James and the other boys had departed.
A week passed without James entering her home. Bit by bit her feelings of guilt and shame ebbed away as the encounter retreated into the past.
.... There is more of this story ...