Chapter 5

I didn’t visit Billy’s Mom the next day. For one thing, something told me that Mrs. Hammond wouldn’t be all that interested in showing me how grateful she was now that she had decided to change her son’s behavior directly without working through me. She obviously didn’t need my help anymore. The other thing was that I didn’t much care anymore. The woman I kept thinking about was Mom.

To be sure, Mrs. Hammond was a sexy woman and, push come to shove, I would enjoy fucking her, and maybe one day I would, if I could. But now, the woman I really wanted was the one I loved, and the one I now knew loved me so much she would do anything for me, maybe. I wanted to find out. Let me rephrase that, I needed to find out.

I started to approach Mom several times the next day but something in her demeanor warned me away. I decided not to risk pushing it and possibly losing what I had gained. I retreated to my room after she brushed me off and paid loving attention to the doll. Nevertheless, I received the same subliminal message when I approached Mom several more times and I backed off each time, but revisited the doll each time too.

Just before dinner, after Dad had come home, Mom began leafing through the photos that Dad had taken of Susan. She had evidently brought them from studio earlier and put them under a magazine on the coffee table. After she finished looking at each one, she tossed it back onto the coffee table. Dad looked uncomfortable. Not all the pictures were headshots. In fact, most were full body pics, from many angles, including lots in reclining poses where Susan’s skirt had slid far up her legs. Mom was critical.

“You know, I don’t think you’ve done Susan justice.”

“What do you mean?” Dad asked nervously.

“She has a wonderful figure and you can’t really see it in these pictures. I think you should get her back and take some more.”

“Really? I think they show that she’s a very pretty young woman. Someone should give her a shot on that basis,” Dad defended his professional skill.

“Maybe,” Mom replied, “but if there were a few more risqué shots, it would help.”

“You think so?” Dad asked.

“Yes, a few bikini shots would clinch an interview, I should think,” Mom mused.

“Well, maybe I don’t think I could suggest that to her. I don’t her and her husband that well.”

“Neither do I, but she seemed to take it well.”

“She ... you didn’t...”

“Yes, I did. She’s coming over after dinner. She seemed quite thrilled, in fact. I told her you wouldn’t mind taking a few more photos, well, lots more.”

“No, no, of course not,” Dad agreed. “They are neighbors, after all.”

“Exactly,” Mom said. “She’ll be over about eight thirty, after she puts Ricky to bed. I told her to bring a bikini or two and maybe some lingerie.”

Dad ate dinner quickly that night and hurried off to studio to get ready. Mom seemed pleased with herself and I was confused. I couldn’t figure Mom out. Why had she invited Susan to spend more time alone with Dad in the studio, in a bikini and lingerie yet?

I tried to help Mom with the dishes, just to be near her but she shooed me out.

“Maybe you can keep me company while your father and Susan are in the studio,” she suggested.

I agreed to do that but was more interested in keeping her company after Susan had left and Dad had gone to bed.

“Maybe we could watch a couple of movies,” I suggested in return.

“Maybe,” Mom replied.

I went up to my room and played with the doll. I heard Susan come in and shortly after that, Mom called me. I went downstairs to find Mom sitting on the couch, watching TV. The lights had been dimmed.

“I thought I heard Susan come in,” I said, looking down the hall at the closed studio door.

“She did,” Mom replied. “They’ll probably be busy for a while, I should think.”

I sat down on the couch and as soon as I did, Mom slid down onto her side and rested her head on the armrest.

“So, did she bring her bikinis?”

“Shhhhhh,” Mom hissed.

I shut up. Mom reached for my hand and pulled it onto her hip. I waited a few minutes before allowing it to stray onto her thigh outside her skirt. I shifted closer to her and started stroking her leg, stretching down to her bare knee. Mom pulled the pillow over her face.

A commercial started but Mom remained focused on the screen. On the next upstroke, my hand slipped underneath her skirt and Mom didn’t even flinch. The commercials ended just when I reached the half way point between the hem of Mom’s skirt and her panties. I worked my way higher and higher, my fingers curling around the front of Mom’s legs into the crease between them. By the time the next set of commercials came on, my fingers were bumping against the front of Mom’s panties.

“Jeff?” Mom whispered.

“Yeah,” I answered, worried by her awareness.

“Were you bad today?”

I was about to answer when Mom spoke again.

“I mean, out there.”

“No.”

My fingers nestled against Mom’s panties, and stayed.

“Do you think your father’s being bad in there?” Mom asked.

“No,” I responded truthfully. “He might be thinking about it but I doubt he’s doing anything.”

“Even when Susan’s in a bikini?”

“Yeah, even then.”

“Hmmmm. I guess you’re right. You always have been more like me.”

“You mean, because I’m bad?”

“Yes.”

That was an interesting response. I thought about it for a moment, and while I did, my finger started tickling the front of Mom’s panties.

“Jeff?”

“Yeah?”

“I bought a new bikini today.”

“You did?”

“Yes. If you’re good out there tomorrow, I’ll show it to you before your father gets home. Maybe you can take some pictures?”

“Okay, Mom.”

“I think I still look okay in a bikini.”