Chapter 1

It’s amazing how two women can handle the same situation so differently. Catching your own son in that most awkward of positions, a surprise for both parties most certainly.

For Mrs Moore it was the early return home and the unexpected entry into the living room. Well unexpected for her son. Seeing his mother standing in the doorway with cigerette poised to lip. The shock on her face as she witnesses him hunched over the table, his trousers around his ankles and too far for retrieval as Mother’s clothes catalogue lays open. Opened on that favorite page of his, the one with the blonde in the underwear.

But worse than being caught looking at it, it’s being caught with his fingers firmly enclosed around his erect shaft.

“Mum!”

There was no escape just the hasty descent onto the sofa, and the hope that what was witnessed would be seen as just a misunderstanding of the situation.

Now at this moment a Mother may see this as the time to retreat gracefully, to delay the talk that must follow, or even take the easiest course of action which is to never have the talk and for both parties to wipe the event from their heads.

But for Mrs Moore the disrespect was too much. She raised her boy better than this and all by herself since his Father fell in the war. It was hardly suprising though, her son never knew him. Sure then there were men in her life but not a man that could be a Father figure. It was left to her to instil control and nip this in the bud.

Her son’s interest in the carpet became greater than the magazine at this moment. He couldn’t see the disappointment and anger in her face but he could certainly hear it.

“What the hell’s going on here?”

It was a rather pointless question. Her son’s lower half was naked and he was cupping his hands over the most obvious cause of the reason.

It didn’t help that he could feel her presence over him. Standing rock solid like the statue of the old bailey. Ready to administer judgement and sentence. It became clear that she will not get a answer so a question was put forward that was simpler to answer.

“Is that my clothes catalogue?”

He nodded to this, but didn’t need to be answered in reality.

She reached down to inspect what had interest her son so much: The underwear section. A place that she rarely bought from, and was rarely inspected by her. Snatching it she flicked through the pagers as the cigerette between her fingers smouldered just like the anger.

“You know I can’t use this anymore. Not now. Not after what I have seen you do with it.”

He didn’t answer. No offer of an apology. What he did risk was a glance at his Mother. A glance that turned to dismay as she looked in closer at the pages and the question that was sure to follow With a face like thunder the demand was made “How many times have you done this to my catalogue!?”

“It was just the once. Just now. I’m sorry ... I...”

Finally he found his voice but it was to be cut short with a snap “liar!”

It was a harsh accusation but one that he couldn’t deny. Because the evidence was clear to see.