Chapter 18

Colette was exhausted. Sleep-deprived she needed to get some. The strange excitement of preparing to meet, meeting, and flying with the mother of her outrageously young lover left Colette anxious. Having not reached rem sleep when she had gone to bed made her susceptible to being awakened by the commotion in the adjoining room. But she was beyond her limit. Dragging herself back to bed It was after 11:00 when she fell into a deep sleep.

Ordinarily, when she came back from a flight to the U.S. she would go to bed after having a light breakfast and awake at 1:00pmish which gave her the five hours of sleep to which she was accustomed. But this time novel circumstances made her sleep fitful, and she had been easily awakened by the commotion in the guest bedroom.

Upon awakening, she stretched and looked at the clock. It was 2:12 pm. She could hear a woman’s voice humming somewhere outside her door. After taking a shower and fixing herself up for the afternoon she opened the door to the lilts of Abby humming a Beatles song. When she walked into the kitchen Abby’s back was to her. She was washing dishes.

Abby must have heard Colette moving or was just aware that another person had entered the room. Turning she gave Colette a glowing smile and said, “I hope you had a restful sleep.

Colette smiled and shrugged as if to say, “It was sufficient.”

“I hope you don’t mind,” Abby said, “but Arthur and I had a bit of lunch. I raided your refrigerator and fixed us both a sandwich. Arthur said you would expect us to. I’m just cleaning up now.”

Colette could see that Abby had that, “I was just fucked by someone special” looks about her. Unable to suppress her grin she said, “I’m just glad you have made yourself at home so easily ... makes me feel like I’m doing my job as a good hostess.”

“Arthur’s not here,” Abby said. “He had to go to the Uni this afternoon for an exam. I was a little surprised he spent the night here. Does he do that often?”

For a moment Colette felt like this could be an issue that could make the visit sour. It seemed like Abby was rambling, not knowing what to say under the circumstances. She had noticed when she had come into the room that the bag full of “Day of the Week” panties was no longer on the table. Figuring that Abby must have thought her hostess had slept through the wildness of hers and her son’s shenanigans Colette pictured how shocked Abby must have been when she discovered she left the bag of panties in plain view ... and how relieved she probably was when she was able to retrieve and hide them.

“Oh, by the way, Colette, I just made a cup of fresh coffee ... I thought perhaps you might have preferred tea. But Arthur said he knew you would be getting up soon and usually had a cup of coffee.”

Colette considered all of what had gone on before Abby had come here: the episodes with the panties, her excitement of seeing her son again, knowing or at least suspecting that her son was having sex with his “airline stewardess friend” then with what had just happened in bed with them Abby had to be very tightly wound.

As she poured herself a cup of coffee, she heard the chair being pulled out from the table and Abby sitting down. Turning around she saw Abby slumped over her crossed arms sobbing. Colette sat down across the table and sipped her coffee while patiently waiting for her guest to settle down.

Lifting her head Abby dabbed at her eyes with a hanky, blew her nose, and said, “I’m sorry Colette. You must think I’m a complete nutcase.”

“I don’t think that at all Abby. What I think is that your body clock is all out of whack, you’ve traveled far away from home—from what Arthur says for the first time—you’re in a strange country, and you are overwhelmed with happiness with being together with your son. I understand how wonderful HE is by the way.”

Abby stared into Colette’s eyes for longer than was comfortable. She felt sure that Arthur and Colette were lovers. How else could Arthur have made love to me the way he had? He’s only EIGHTEEN for pity’s sake and he seems to know more about sex than Corwin (his father). She was still trying to come to grips with the eleven orgasms she had just delighted in with Arthur. What would this woman think about a mother who is fucking her son? Letting out a long sigh she decided to confront her dragon. “I don’t want you to think I am stupid Colette.” Taking a deep breath she continued, “I know what’s going on between you and Arthur. It’s not just an innocent relationship is it.”

“It’s not a guilt-filled relationship either,” Colette replied.

Here, Abigail Chadwick, a respectable Boston housewife was in an incredibly kind woman’s flat in London ... a world traveler, an AIRLINE STEWARDESS. Corwin had told her about the promiscuous nature of such women as Colette in the airline industry. How could she and Arthur have become this close if they weren’t going to bed with each other? Abby had just spent more than two hours in bed with her son for which she felt extremely guilty. But is it guilt or am I just troubled? I’ve never cheated on my husband before this. Is there a special place in hell for a mother who cheats with her SON? She rationalized but we have both been fantasizing. And the PANTIES. When I showed him the gift of my panties and he took me to bed ... took ME to BED it seemed so um natural. Gracious sake alive, he was so GOOD at it, like he was BORN to go to bed with me.

Shaking her head she said, “I’m really troubled, Colette. I ... I don’t know how to express what I am feeling about it. Arthur left home as a teenage boy and now he’s a MAN. How could that have happened so QUICKLY?”

Reaching out she patted Abby’s hand.

Quickly, Abby pulled her hand back as if something threatening had invaded her space. But she left her arm outstretched on the table with her palm facing up the way one would approach a skittish dog.

“Perhaps you have mistaken Arthur’s quietness for shyness,” Colette said. “By the time we landed at Heathrow the night he came here Abby I knew he was more self-confident than most teenage boys his age.”

When Abby stared at her more harshly Colette realized she was jealously protective Colette said, “I’m not a mother, Abby. I’ve been married once but never had children. You would be surprised though at what an expert I have become in assessing young men Arthur’s age. He’s not the first lad with whom I have had this kind of relationship. He’s the best though. That’s why I treasure him so profoundly.”

She could see Abby exhale pent-up air; her eyes became wider as she tried to figure out what was going on between this alien woman and her son. Trying to gain the aura of an understanding guru hand she reached for Abby’s accessible palm which Abby moved a little further away.

She’s fucking my son Abby thought. Corwin was right. She wondered if his experience with this “promiscuous” woman intensified the sexual feelings of her son who had intentionally made it possible for her to see him masturbating. But I watched it. Then there were the panties she found he had been using to jack off with. But I sniffed them and cuddled them like catnip. Then there were the panties she began salting his laundered clothes with. Then I “scented” them.

She had the feeling that the silent Colette was reading her mind which made her want to dive under the table. But it’s her fault, she SEDUCED him. She had denied the possibility of Arthur and Colette having an affair until meeting his stewardess friend at the airport. She knew Colette was too sexual and compelling a woman for a young man not to dream about getting into her pants. And in her mind, her son Arthur was just too perfect a specimen of a male for any woman not to want to fuck. So by the time the flight ended, she was sure they were going to bed together. And what about my perverted behavior about the scented panties?

Taking advantage of the confusion written all over her guest’s face Colette tenderly grasped Abby’s hand and said, “You have raised an outstanding young man, Abby. Believe me when I tell you that Arthur is years older than his age. And Abby your son is MADLY in love with you.”

Since the subject had been open Colette knew that this was the moment to clear the air. Taking a deep breath she thought there is no time like the present and said, “I was unsettled when I went to bed Abby and slept only fitfully. Then I was awakened by the sounds of you and Arthur in the guest bedroom.” With an amused smile and a shrug she went on, “I got up to make myself a cup of coffee and saw the unusual package you left on the table.”

Abby’s face darkened into a deep flush but she showed no other emotion, simply assessing Colette’s eyes as if she were playing poker.

“I have to confess my curiosity when I saw that one of the packages in the bag was unsealed Abby ... and its contents had been stuffed back inside rather than being folded neatly like the other days of the week.”

With a look of defiance, Abby thought what right does she have to go through my things?

The cat was out of the bag. In for a penny in for a pound Colette thought and said, “I apologize for my complete lack of control Abby but when I smelled your scent, it wasn’t hard to figure out where they had been.”

It was something Abby thought inconceivable when Colette said those words which made her think What kind of pervert must she think I AM? Opening her mouth to respond no words came out except “I ... I.”

Colette touched Abby’s lips with her fingertip to indicate, “Shh.” She knew she was close to being in complete control and needed to push it. “Frankly my dear your scent is heavenly.”

How could I have gotten myself into this situation? Abby thought, feeling herself melting into her chair. “You must think I am a TERRIBLE mother Colette.”

“On the contrary Abby. I think you love your son very much. True, what you have done is not smiled on by society, but I am convinced that you’re thinking about it is a common thread so many mothers like you fantasize about. You have just chosen to act upon it. Through my eyes, I see you as a bit of a heroine.”

On the edge of feeling a scintilla of acceptance Abby said, “But...”

“Sex is a curious motivator Abby,” Colette interrupted, “probably one of the most powerful motivators in the world. You might not understand it as well as I do because you are a housewife married to one man. You’ve just had sex with your son, true.”

Abby winced.

“What you probably heard about flight attendants being promiscuous is partially true. All of us are not promiscuous. My definition of promiscuity Abby along with the definition by most of my contemporaries is having casual relations frequently with different partners: indiscriminate in the choice of sexual partners; acting without judgment. A woman having indiscriminate sex with just anybody Abby is a slut. Yes, there are sluts in British Airways or any other airline for that matter. I am selective with whom I have sex as are most of my contemporaries.”

“We were all young women out of college, all of us attractive, who went to work in an industry peopled by many highly sexed men both single and married who had their tongues hanging out for us. We were alone with them, and they were both attractive and instant. Most of my contemporaries have had sex with many of these pilots, both single and married.”

There are sluts in every walk of life. I have not had sex with all the pilots at BA, just the pilots with whom I have flown. Just like I haven’t had sex with all the male passengers, just those I have found attractive enough to do so ... and all of them weren’t just physically attractive either. A few would have been considered ugly by many people in society but these men for me had beautiful minds.”

“But,” Abby said defensively, “isn’t having that kind of sex the definition of promiscuous?” Abby was trying to sort through this as a housewife, married to just one man and faithful to him until...

“Try to imagine yourself as a young college graduate Abby: going to work with lots of attractive, compelling men, many of whom were war heroes, flying to faraway places and staying in luxury hotels with them, having dinner with them, drinking and dancing with them and being seduced by them. What do you think you would have done if you were in my place or any of my sister stewardesses?”

Thinking about what she would like to have done had she lived out some of the fantasies she had of other men than her husband triggered a flash recall. She had been on the cusp of orgasm with her husband and knew Corwin would cum before she was able to achieve it. Imagining Jim Jeffords, the gorgeous man at church to whom she had often masturbated. She remembered how she felt Corwin’s erection straining to cum. In the flash of those seconds, it was Jim Jeffords on top of her, inside her, digging at her clitoris with his finger. She remembered so many times that Corwin came inside her and was gasping for breath while she had already used her Jim Jeffords fantasy to trigger an orgasm for herself. I wonder how many women like me would have wanted to be a slut for a year, or even just a slut for a week away on vacation with Jim Jeffords?