Chapter 2

I know I had too much to drink that night. I know I gotta watch that. I guzzled almost a whole bottle of wine, and it really loosened me up. Too loose, probably. The next thing I remember, I was laying in Rob’s lap, as he held me and whispered silly things in my ear.

“Rob...” I finally said. I almost had no idea what I was saying, but I felt the urge to talk. The urge to get some things straight between us.

“Yes, mom...” he said, his hands around my shoulders. I finally sat up. He tried to pull me into his lap, but I resisted. I felt more and more like I just had to talk to him.

“Honey...” I started, not really even knowing where I was going with all this. “Rob, honey ... you are my life, and I feel like I almost lost you, and now I’ve got you back ... I love you dearly, more than anything ... I don’t ever want to go back, to the way ... the way it was when Dale was here.”

“I know, mom...” he said, getting serious. “I feel the same way...”

“Honey, I’m just trying to say, you’re young, you’ve got your whole life in front of you ... you need to go out, and find somebody, somebody who loves you for what you are, for what you can be...”

I didn’t feel like I was getting across what I wanted to say. I wanted to tell him not to fixate on me, but I was a little nervous ... what if this wasn’t about me, at all? What if I was just imagining it? I didn’t want to embarrass him.

“Mom...” he said slowly, staring right into my face. “Mom. I love you more than life. You are all I need, all I’ll ever need. I just want to stay here with you.”

“Oh, darling...” I felt myself starting to choke up. I realized then that it was all about me, from what he said. “Rob, honey. Don’t make me the focus of your life. You’re just starting out ... don’t waste it on me ... I’m an old lady now...”

“No, no you’re not. You’re perfect. You’re perfect, and I love you,” he simply said, and, to my shock, leaned in and kissed me, right on the lips.

I let him kiss me, I was kind of shocked, although there’s nothing wrong with letting your kid kiss you. This kiss, though, just felt different, and went on a long time longer than it probably should have.

Finally I pulled away from him. I could feel his hot breath in my face. My heart was pounding a million times a minute. And ... I have to admit ... I felt a tingle ... from ... down there. Dang it, I thought, not now. Don’t start that stuff now.

There was no denying it. I forced myself to face it. My son was sexually exciting me. His hand was on my bare leg, and it almost burned, it was so hot. I was hot, both physically ... and mentally. Emotionally. I was burning up.

I didn’t know what to do, so I started doing what I usually do when I don’t know what to do. I started crying.

“Oh, mom,” he said, and I swear he was almost crying too. He grabbed me and pulled me over to him, and crushed my body against his. I was almost horrified at how right it felt. What is happening to us? I had time to think.

He put his head beside mine, his chin on my shoulder, and just held me. It felt good. It felt, like I said ... right. It felt right. I let him hold me. His arms felt strong and I felt safe in them. Let this go on, I thought, let this go on forever. I’m happy here. I’m safe here. Let this go on.

“Mom...” he was almost whispering, his mouth in my ear. His breath felt good on my ear, good and hot. It felt sexy. Stop that, I thought, stop thinking like that. He’s your kid. Stop it.

I couldn’t, though. I just melted in his arms.

He continued to whisper. “Mom,” he said. “We love each other. We are all we have. We are all we need. Whatever we do for love is right, is good. There’s nothing bad about love, nothing wrong. How could there be? Doesn’t this feel right?”

He paused, and I hiccuped, not sure what to say. I felt like I knew where he was going with this, but I was powerless to stop him.

“Mom...” he finally said. “Let me love you. Let’s do the right thing, let’s do what we both want. Let me love you.”

He pulled his face back, and kissed me again. This time, for reasons I’m still not sure of, I didn’t pull back. He was right, I thought, this is right. Well, it’s not right ... but it was what we both wanted ... I had to admit it to myself. I wanted it more than anything in the world. I knew it wasn’t right, I knew I was breaking every law and convention in the world ... but, god ... I wanted it.

His lips felt soft against mine, and I tasted him, I tasted his saliva in my mouth ... he tasted good, I could even taste a hint of toothpaste. I don’t remember enjoying a kiss so much since I was a teenager.

That thought brought me back. A teenager. I was kissing a teenager. My son, in fact. I slammed my head backwards, and stumbled off his lap to my feet.

I was crying, again. I looked down at him. He looked crestfallen, or something, like he was disappointed. I knew he was. I knew he wanted more, I felt it.

“I’m sorry, Rob...” I mumbled, tears in my voice. “I’m sorry, honey...” I staggered out the door and to my room, and threw myself on my bed. I was sorry. I didn’t know what I was sorry for, for what we did, what I allowed, or for ending it. I just laid there, in confusion, and cried.

I heard him enter the room, and felt him sit on the side of the bed. I snuffled and sniffed, and finally raised up. I just looked at him, and melted again. Before I knew it I was in his arms, and he held me as I cried some more.

“Mom...” he said. I sighed, and waited. I almost felt like I knew what he was going to say. What did I do, I thought to myself, to get him in this condition? Had I led him along? Was this my fault? I didn’t feel fair in blaming him for it, he was just a kid. How had this started?

“Mom,” he said, “please. You didn’t do anything wrong. Please don’t cry...”

I looked up at him, helpless. “Rob...” I finally said, “I know what you want ... and I have to admit, I want it, too ... I know it’s wrong, and you know it’s wrong ... we just can’t, honey ... it has to end here ... I’ve already let it get out of hand, and I’m sorry...”

“Mom,” he interrupted, “don’t. Don’t say that, and don’t feel that. It was beautiful, you have to admit. You feel it, too. I know you do. Don’t worry about what society thinks is right or wrong ... trust your feelings. Trust me.”

I sighed, and cried some more. Once again, it felt good to just lay there in his lap and let him hold me. I tried to think about what he was saying. I knew he was just saying it because he wanted me. That didn’t make it right. But I felt for him. I wanted to make him happy. But I couldn’t ... I just couldn’t. I knew what was right, and what was wrong.

We talked, into the night. I tried to make him understand, and I think he did understand, but I think he just wanted what he wanted even more. He tried make me come around to his point of view, and he was very persuasive. I felt, more and more, an attraction to what he was saying. To just give up, and drown myself in his love. I hate to admit it, but I have to admit it. The attraction was strong. I kept looking at him and thinking, what are you doing, what are you thinking ... this is your son ... this child came from your body ... are you insane?

He was finally silent, and I just lay there in his lap, exhausted.

She finally went to sleep, laying there on my lap. She’d stopped crying, at least, and I felt like she was listening to me, to my arguments. I almost felt a little hope that I was winning her over, but I knew how strong a lifetime of conditioning was, at the same time. It felt good just to sit there on her bed and hold her, she was soft and warm and smelled good. I wanted to lay her down, and lay beside her, but I knew she’d wake up if I tried that.

At least she knows, I thought, at least she knows how I feel about her now. And she took it better than I thought she would.

I woke up. I was still laying on him, my upper body in his lap, my head on his leg. He was patiently waiting for me to wake up, I guess, or for morning to get here. I raised up, and looked at the clock. Jesus, it was almost three. I woozily sat up, and looked over at Rob. He stared back, solemn, solid as ever. I felt a burst of love for him that dwarfed everything so far. I felt like I realized how much he loved me. I could almost feel it as a physical thing, from him. I sighed. Nothing was going to be easy, from here on.

“Mom,” he said, and I raised an eyebrow at him.

“Mom, just lay down and go to sleep. It’s three AM.” he said, and he stood beside my bed. I scooted up to my sleeping position, and put my legs beneath the blanket. He sat again, on the side of my bed, and put his arm on my waist. I searched my mind for something to say, something profound, something to make all the confusion go away, and put us back in a normal mother son relationship. My mind was totally blank, though.

He spoke before I could gather my thoughts.

“Mom. You know how I feel. I love you. If you don’t say another word about this in the morning, I’ll never bring it up again. Things will be the way they were. It’s all up to you, as it should be. Just never forget how much I love you. Promise?”

I was silent for a moment, mulling over what he’d said. Over his offer, basically. I respected him for offering, although I knew that probably we could never really go back to things the way they were before. This incident would flavor our relationship from now on, for better or worse. You can never go back, as they say. But I believed him. He’d try. I knew he’d still want me, and I’d still want him. But we’d try. That’s how it had to be.

I motioned him to me. He leaned in, close to my face. I pulled at his body, and he crawled up onto my bed, laying beside me. I pushed against his shoulder, and he finally figured out what I wanted, and laid back against me, his back against my stomach, spoon-fashion. I wanted, for some crazy reason, to give him some of that intimacy he seemed to crave, before I pushed him away forever. Just tonight, I thought. Just what’s left of tonight. I leaned my head up over his head, and whispered in his ear.

“Rob, honey ... thank you ... thanks for seeing how it just has to be. Darling ... I’m so sorry ... no one is sorrier than I am ... but it just has to be like this. We just can’t, honey...”

I felt him nod. I hoped he understood. I hoped I wasn’t mixing him up by holding him, one last time. I clasped him to me, and tears began to drip from beneath my eyelids. I kissed his ear, and lay my head down behind his.

Even though I felt like she was telling me no, it was sexier than hell to lay in my mom’s bed and have her hold me, just like I was a little baby. I wondered if this was the last time, the only time, we’d do this. It was almost enough, although I kind of wished we were reversed, and I was holding her. But, it was enough, for now. It seemed like she was going to ask me to do what I’d said, go back to simply being her son. I’d try, if that’s what she really wanted. But always, deep down inside, I’d love her, as much as I did, right now.

I’ll do what she wants, if that’s what she wants. We’ll go back to just being mother and son. It’ll be hard, and I’ll always probably love her just a little more than I should, but I’ll do it for her. I guess I have no choice. I sighed and closed my eyes, and let her hold me.

I was suddenly awake, and took a look at the clock on my dresser. It was almost five. The sun should be coming up, here in a bit. Rob slept beside me, his breathing steady and even. I touched his arm, and it was cold. I pulled as much of the blanket up over him as I could, and nodded off again.

I got up long before he did, and showered and changed into some fresh clothes. I fixed a nice breakfast, and he stumbled in, at last, and we ate. I went shopping later with Cindy, and I’m not sure what he did the rest of the day. We caught up again that night, and I cooked a pizza and we settled in front of the TV, like we usually did.

He seemed true to his word. He didn’t hang over me, or moon over me. It seemed like old times. And, weirdly, by the end of the evening, I realized that it was just not enough. It’s me, I told myself. It’s really me, doing this. Feeling this. I longed to feel his arms around me, again, like he had done last night. I longed to hear his steady breathing, in the still of the night, and feel his warmth next to me. Except this time, I wanted him under the blanket. Under the blanket, with me.

I forced myself to stop, and be objective. What could come of this? I asked myself. Nothing good, myself answered. Things like this aren’t done, and aren’t done for a good reason. Maybe we just never hear about the times it works, my mind said. Maybe we just hear about the bad ones. Maybe it works, hundreds of times. Thousands. Maybe it is love, true love, not just familial love. Maybe we were meant for each other. Considering how I feel about him, hell, it’s more than maybe.

Awww, my subconscious piped up, you’re just rebounding from stupid-ass Dale. This is just a little puppy-love thing. A year from now you’ll both laugh about this, and have girlfriends and boyfriends of your own. Parents don’t fall in love with their children. They’re already in love with their children, but a different kind of love.

Shit no, said my pussy, I’m wet. He makes me wet. Thinking about him makes me wet. See? Shut up, said my subconscious, who asked you, you stupid cunt. Fuck you! said my pussy, bristling. I stopped the conversation. It was stupid, and proved nothing. Maybe sometimes these things did work out. Could I be so lucky? Could I finally have found the love I’d spent my whole life searching for? Could I be enough for him? What would the future hold, when I was an old lady and he a middle-aged man, with the needs and desires of a man? Would this just be a spring fling, if I went ahead and flung it?

Too many questions, I thought. I moved two feet over on the couch, and reached for him, and leaned him down into my lap. He lay easily. I put my hand on his neck, and stroked his head. This head, I thought, this head, at one time, came into the world through my vagina. I made him, inside my body. He came from me. He was part of me, for a while, until the cord was cut. He doesn’t remember it, but he’s already seen my pussy. From the inside, no less. I realized, with almost horror, that I was anticipating showing it to him again. The thought had occurred to me, without realizing the ramifications, that I needed to shave again, so I wouldn’t be ... prickly for him. I realized that something had happened, without my knowledge or involving me in the decision making process. I was preparing myself to have sex with him. With my son. With my own flesh and blood. I knew that’s what he wanted, deep inside. I felt it from him. I felt his lust for me, and I hungered for it. I had some of my own, for him. How had it gone this far, this fast? I asked myself. What the holy goddam fuck is wrong with you, girl?