Chapter 3

I didn’t give her the opportunity to slide back into her depressed routine. As soon as I saw her the next day, I reminded her of how good she had looked in her wool dresses.

“You know, Mom, you looked so good yesterday. We should go shopping and get you some new dresses.”

“Oh, I have so many dresses already that I’ll never wear again. Your Dad won’t go anywhere now,” she pined.

“You and I can go out, Mom. Anyway, I like to see you in your dresses right here at home. We could work our way through your closet, keep the ones we like, and give the rest to charity. C’mon, let’s go shopping for new outfits. What do you think?”

“Well, I guess that could be fun.”

“Definitely. Let’s go.”

“Jay, you don’t want to go shopping with your old mom for house dresses.”

“Not house dresses. We’re looking for dresses for a good looking woman.” I pulled on her hand, dragging her out of the kitchen to the bottom of the stairs.

“Come on. Go upstairs and get dressed.”

I stood at the bottom of the stairs and watched her. Although she started slowly, her pace picked up and she was moving briskly by the time she reached the top.

Fifteen minutes later, she came down in a white blouse and a loose, pleated skirt, with a tentative smile on her face. “You’re sure about this?”

“Absolutely. It’s going to be a great day.”

Once in the malls, Mom really got into it. She clearly loved to shop, and was quite particular. We looked at many, many dresses in lots of stores. As she tried them on, she would come out to show me. I took my time, admiring her body of course, and took the full license shopping gave me to run my eyes all over her. I knew she was aware that I was appreciating her figure, but she let me have my fun too. As the day went on, I was sure she was striking poses to increase my enjoyment.

She had only bought one dress when, as we were leaving, we passed by a store with slinky dresses oriented to a younger crowd. Hesitant to enter, I cajoled her until she relented and we went in. The young woman seemed to mistake our relationship as one between a younger man with a somewhat older woman, not a mother son thing. I called mom by her first name to facilitate the illusion.

“They’re got some real cute little numbers here, Lorraine.”

Mom gave me a funny look. “I don’t think these dresses suit me, I’m too old for them.”

“Nonsense,” I retorted, “They’re made for a body like yours,” intentionally drawing attention to her figure in more graphic terms. “Aren’t they?”, I queried the saleswoman.

“Oh, totally, you should really try some on,” she effused, turning to Mom to release her pitch.

Mom tried a few on. They were all very sexy and I was pleased with every one she tried. The saleswoman could tell I was interested in Mom, so how could she mistake her as my mother, especially the way Mom primped for me? As she modeled the dresses, I touched her often, turning her by pressing my hands against the sides of her rib cage, sliding my hands along her waist and out the swell of her hips as she moved away toward the mirror. Mom seemed to revel in it, cocking her hips as she studied herself in the mirror, turning her legs to see her behind, glancing up to watch me studying her, ruffling her dress up her sides, lifting the hem higher on her thighs, and so on.

She finally picked out two dresses to buy. As she walked them over to the counter, the saleswoman suggested she get new underwear as well. “You can’t wear regular bra and panties with these dresses, they’d show,” she explained, picking up a tiny bit of silk that was supposed to be panties, and a bra as well.

As we left, I suggested we look for a new pair of shoes as well.

“Ok, but then we have lunch,” she said, “I’m starved and I want to go home.”

“When we get home, let’s put on your new dress and dance while we listen to our CD,” I said, trying to set up the afternoon for more games. “But first let’s get something new for you to dangle on your toes.”

Mom shot me a real curious look at that remark, but smiled and said, “Whatever you say, Jay”.

In the shoe store, Mom kept her pleated skirt closed demurely around her knees as the salesman, a year or two younger than me, fitted the first of several pairs of open-toed shoes we’d picked out. I could tell he was looking at her legs when he thought no one would notice. How could he help it? Mom had great legs.

I decided to explore her affinity for flirting in public. Sitting next to her, I casually dropped my hand in her lap as he turned to pick up the second pair of shoes for her to try. Mom tensed but she didn’t push my hand away. Leaning forward, I looked down her legs at the shoes, her feet resting in between the teenager’s legs.

“I like these ones,” I remarked, pulling her skirt back as I leaned forward, exposing about three inches of thigh before lifting my hand away. “What do you think?” I said to the clerk, forcing him to look up at me.

“Oh, yes, they’re very nice,” he replied, but he couldn’t stop his eyes straying to her newly exposed thighs.

When he turned to get the third pair of shoes, I slipped my hand between her knees and gently pulled her legs apart a few inches. When he turned back, the clerk’s eyes reached between her parted legs. Mom blushed, but didn’t say a word. She kept her eyes on the shoes, not looking at me or the clerk.

As Mom rose to walk on the new shoes, I pointed to a pair of high boots and asked the salesman to fetch a pair of them to try. When Mom sat down, I pushed her skirt higher again, and parted her legs. She didn’t acknowledge my action in any way except to turn her eyes away. The clerk returned just as I was lifting my hand away from her knee. He immediately noticed the more revealing position of her legs and kept his eyes between her thighs as he knelt down, taking her foot in his hand and feeding it into the boot.

He seemed to sense that it was OK for him to look, and look he did. As he pushed the boot up, her leg lifted from the chair seat, opening her legs even wider. From his position, he had to be able to see right up to her panties. Mom kept her eyes averted as he started to fasten the leggings. When he finished, he started with the next boot.

“Take your time,” I said, “We’re in no hurry. We really enjoy shopping.”

I turned to Mom. “Sit back and close your eyes, Mom.”

She visibly tensed as I uttered the last word. The clerk faltered, then continued pushing the boot up her leg, leading with his fingers sliding up her calf. Again, Mom’s thigh lifted off the chair as he pushed the boot up. He seemed to push her leg up farther, opening her legs wider this time. As he started to fasten the leggings, much more slowly, I reached down to grasp the hem of Mom’s skirt. He watched as I pulled it back to the top of her thighs, exposing her yellow panties. He never looked at me.

The poor guy was having trouble breathing and his fingers were fumbling with the snaps on the boot. I noticed that he had positioned Mom’s foot so that it was resting on his thighs as he knelt before her. As he finished closing the last snap, Mom opened her eyes and turned to look directly at him. She moved her foot directly onto his crotch and gently twisted her toe on his noticeable bulge.

“Let me up, so I can try them,” she said. She walked up and down the store a couple of times, then made her way straight to the counter. “I’ll take these,” she said, “and I’ll wear them. My son can take them off when we get home. He likes to do little things like that for me.”

I basked in the hero worship visible in the clerk’s eyes as we left the store.

At lunch, Mom requested a booth at the rear of the restaurant and went to the ladies before joining me. She slid in, pushing me to the middle of the large U-shaped booth. As she read the large menu, she spoke quietly without turning to face me, “Aren’t you going to pull my skirt up?”

Taken aback, I didn’t move.

“Don’t be obvious about it.”

Discretely, I moved my hand down behind the menu and under the table, grasped her skirt and pulled it back, away from her knees.

“You liked that little game you were playing back there. Didn’t you?”

I didn’t answer.

“Are you trying to be like your father?”

I was caught. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. You want to be like your father, don’t you?”

“I guess. If you say so.”

“Look at my menu, like we’re discussing it.” I did.

“Look down.” I did.

“What do you see?”

“Your open legs, your thighs.”

She reached down and pulled her skirt back even more.

“Now what do you see?”

She was bare. I could see her pussy covered with just a hint of light brown hair.

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do. You know what it is.”

“Your pussy.”

“Who’s pussy?”

“Yours. Lorraine’s pussy,” I replied, thinking she wanted to continue the game I’d started in the shoe store.

“No. Not Lorraine’s. Who’s pussy can you see?”

“My Mom’s. I’m looking at my Mom’s pussy.”

“That’s right. Your Mom’s pussy. Your Dad couldn’t play games like that. You’re not your Dad. You have to play your own games, Jay, and I can tell by that little number you did back there, calling me Mom while you were playing with my skirt in front of that boy, that you have a knack for it.”

Just then, the waitress arrived. We ordered and had little discussion until our meal was done. Mom didn’t cover herself up. She left her skirt up, her legs exposed, but the way we were seated only I could see.

After the plates were cleared away and we were finishing our coffees, Mom said, “Lean in to me and laugh like we’re sharing a joke.” I did as she instructed.

“Put your hand down and touch me,” she whispered, “Quickly.”

I pushed my left hand down between her thighs and cupped her pussy.

“Do you like that?”, she asked.

“Yes,” I gasped, stunned that she not only let me touch her, but told me to do it. I had thought this was against the rules.

“Well, you’re not going to get into it. This is all I’ll let you do, and if you expose us like that again, I won’t let you do that either. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe I’ll let your little salesman friend have it. Would you like that?”

“No.”

“Then keep our little games to ourselves. Let’s go home now.”

We left the restaurant, but as we passed by the shoe store, Mom suddenly spoke out, “Oh, I forgot to try on that cute little green pair,” and she hurried into the store.

When he saw her, the salesman almost tripped trying to greet us. Mom pointed to some green shoes and sat down. She waited until he knelt in front of her with a pair her size. I sat next to her again.

“You know I like to take my time when I’m trying on shoes, don’t you?”, she queried our very excited sales assistant.

“That’s no problem. We aim to please. Take all the time you want.”

“Take my boot off slowly, then.” As he started, she moved her hands to her blouse and slowly loosened two buttons until you could see the swell of her tits. “Are you good to your Mother?” she asked.

“Yes, I try to be.”

“That’s good. You should be. A mother will do a lot for her son, especially if he’s a good boy.”

He glanced at me, then back to her. Was she speaking to me, through him?

“Is your mother pretty?”

“Yes.”

“Do you look at her when she isn’t looking?”

Caught off guard by this direct query, he paused, flushing red in the face.

“You do, don’t you?”

“Yes,” barely audible.

“Would you like her to be like this with you?” As she said this, she dropped both hands to her sides and slowly pulled her skirt back but keeping her legs pressed tightly together. “You’d like it, wouldn’t you, if she played little games like I do with Jay?”

“Yes. I would,” he confessed, his voice hoarse. He slid the boot down her leg, leaving his left hand cupping her calf just below her knee, returning to hold her foot with the other after dropping the boot on the floor.

“She might, but you have to let her know you want it. If you don’t take chances, you won’t get what you want.” She paused. “Put my foot where you want it.”

A shocked look on his face, he nevertheless pulled her foot onto his crotch. “Watch the store, Jay,” Mom whispered to me as she started rubbing her foot on his jeans. He was gasping, staring at her exposed but closed legs. She laughed softly. “If you want to look, you have to go for it. Nobody’s going to do everything for you.”

Haltingly, he leaned forward, tentatively placing his hands on her knees, then slowly spread them apart. He gasped as her bare pussy came into view. She started rubbing his cock vigorously. He responded by hunching into it.

“That’s right, baby. This could be your mommy’s. She’ll do it if she loves you, and she’s lonely. You just have to bring her around to it.” She leaned forward as he started to come in his pants. “She might even let you kiss it.”

He lost it, suddenly jerking wildly, fucking her foot, holding it down tightly against his cock, not caring that, if seen, he’d likely lose his job.

When he was done, Mom picked her boot up and pulled it on herself. She continued, “I don’t want these shoes right now but I’d like to try on a few pairs at home. Can you do that?”

“Absolutely, no problem, absolutely,” he gasped out, still recovering his breath.

“Great. Jay will give you a call when I’m ready. Would you like some advice to help you with your mother?”

“Yeah. That would be great.”

“Be nice to her. Be thoughtful. Go out of your way to do extra things for her but don’t mention it, she’ll know. Compliment her and carefully, ... carefully ... let her know you’re aware of her, as a woman. Just a few glances at first, then some lingering looks at her body, and her legs. Don’t gawk. If she doesn’t seem mad, start touching her. Not anywhere sexual, on her arm, give her hugs and little kisses, that sort of thing. If she gets tense and her pulse quickens but she doesn’t object strongly, you’re on your way. What’s your mom’s name, and yours?”

“My Mom’s name is Dhelia, and I’m Greg.”

“OK. Remember, take your time.” She turned to me, “Come on Jay, let’s go home, now,” she said, huskily.

We left.

As we drove, she instructed me to take some sandwiches up to Dad when we got home and visit with him. She wanted to rest, and would join me downstairs later.

“I want you to contact that boy and help him if he needs it. Make sure he takes his time. If he rushes things, he may not get another chance. Anyway, he should learn to savor the good things in life.”

Was she sending me a message as well?

Then she commented on how much she liked her new boots. “These boots hold a memory for us now, don’t they, Jay?”

“Yes, Mom, they certainly do,” I laughed.

“Always remember, if you take your time, you can make a memory. Memories last, they’re worth the effort.”

Mom went straight up to her room when we arrived. I dutifully made some sandwiches and took them up for Dad. While he ate, I hung around trying to talk to him but he was distracted, returning one word answers while continuing to read his book. I tried hard, for Mom’s sake, but gave up after an hour and went to my own room. After a while, I changed into my PJ’s and went downstairs, hoping to find Mom.

She wasn’t anywhere to be seen. I poured myself a glass of wine, got comfortable on the couch, and started reading. Tiring after just a little while, I put my book down, and reached for my wine glass. There was a note written in my mother’s hand leaning against the base of the lamp.

“Jay. Put on our CD when you’re ready. I’ll come down when I hear it. Love, Mom.”

I put the CD on loud enough to be heard upstairs. Then I topped up my glass and settled in to wait for her. Twenty minutes later I had already refilled my glass but my cock hadn’t subsided since reading the note. In between songs, I heard her voice, “Jay, turn the music down.” Then, “And start it over.”

I did as she asked. By the time I had reseated myself, she was halfway down the stairs. She was wearing the sexy blue, sleeveless dress made of a very flimsy material that almost let me see her body through the billowing fabric. My eyes were drawn to the boots that almost reached her knees. The black leather accentuated the supple strength of her thighs above, pulling my attention to the valley at the juncture of her legs. As my eyes traveled up her torso, I noticed her unrestrained breasts jostling as she walked slowly toward me. She stopped in front of me.

“I want to dance.” I rose to take her in my arms.

“Give me a sip of your wine first, and don’t spill it on my new dress.” I tipped the glass to her lips, pulling back a little for her first swallow, then tipped it again. When she signaled me to back off again, I tipped it further into her instead. She tilted her head back and gulped the whole glass down. As I pulled the glass away from her lips she swirled her tongue around her lips. She pressed her hips forward against my cock until it was firmly lodged in her belly, “Been waiting long?” She laughed throatily, and raised her arms around my neck.

I tossed the glass onto the couch and steered her out into the room in a slow dance, shoving my prick into her as I worked her backward, pulling her waist in against me. I stopped and kissed her, forcing my tongue into her, exploring her mouth. I hunched my cock against her, rubbing it up and down against the mound I could feel between the thin material of her dress and my PJ’s.

“Oh, you naughty boy,” she exclaimed, breathlessly, when the kiss ended. But the glint in her eye wasn’t an angry one. I tried to renew our kiss but she bent further backward to avoid my lips, pushing her belly harder against my stiff cock. “I’m going to have to put my foot down with you, young man,” she admonished.

“Go ahead, Mom, put your foot on me,” I countered, still trying to kiss her as she swayed to avoid me.

“Is that what you want, Jay? You want to walk a mile in the shoe salesman’s shoes?”, she laughed again. “Alright, I can’t dance in these boots anyway. Pour me some more wine and take these boots off for me.”

She pushed my arms away, walked past me and sat down on the couch. I grabbed some more wine and refilled the glass I had tossed on the couch. Then I positioned myself on my knees in front of her, lifting a booted leg, and starting undoing the snaps.

“Slowly,” she commanded. “Slowly, Greg.”

“What, Mom?”, I replied, looking up with a confused look on my face.

“I’m Dhelia,” she stated emphatically.

“Oh,” I said, not quite comprehending, but realizing we were heading into uncharted waters. I finished undoing the snaps on her boot.

“Take it off,” she said, quietly. I did, pulling it slowly down her leg and over her bare foot, dropping it to the floor beside me. I lifted her other boot and rested it against my thigh as I started undoing its snaps.

“Slowly, Greg, slowly,” she repeated as she placed her bare foot on my other thigh. As I took my time undoing another snap, she moved her foot higher on my thigh and inward, her foot sliding gently over my cock. I could feel the tenderness of her instep even through the flannel of my pajama bottoms.

“You’re bigger than you were this afternoon. That deserves a reward, doesn’t it?”

As I looked up to wholeheartedly agree with her, she barked, “Don’t look at me!” Then, more softly, “Undo the rest of the snaps, Greg.” Her foot pressed against my cock, moving up and down, her toes folding around the head, massaging it against my leg. I undid the rest of the snaps more quickly. She didn’t object. When I was done, I pulled the boot slowly down her leg, letting it fall to the floor too.

I pulled her other foot up and laid it next to my cock on the other thigh. She immediately moved in to squeeze my cock between her feet, giving it a dual massage. This forced her legs to part a few inches. I stared between her parted legs as she worked my prick. I leaned forward and placed my hands on her knees, prying them further apart. When her legs were restricted by her dress, I slid my hands under her thighs and shoved it back to her ass, moved my hands to the top of her thighs again and pushed it up to her hips, exposing the patch of hair at the top of her mound.

Lowering my hands to her knees, I pushed them wide apart and up, which lifted her feet from my cock, but I desperately wanted to see her. “Oh, Mom, Dhelia, you’re beautiful,” I cried.

Mom slumped back into the couch, closing her eyes, “Yes, Dhelia is beautiful,” she whispered.

“She sure is. You’re so beautiful, Dhelia,” I whispered back, slipping my hands under her knees, pushing her thighs higher, against her breasts, spreading her lewdly before me. I lowered my head to kiss inside her thighs, moving from one leg to the other, kissing, licking, nibbling.

Mom’s breath quickened. “Oh, Greg, Greeggg, I don’t know. Stop, stop.”

“But, Dhelia,” I quickly replied, “It’s what we always do.”

“We do?”, came the unsure response.

“Yes. You know we do. It’s your favorite part, Dhelia, you know you love it.”

I dipped my head again and continued nibbling, licking and kissing her thigh. “My favorite,” she murmured.

I kept kissing her legs, slowly pushing my face further in, pressing her legs wider, opening her for better access. She started purring softly. As I reached the outside of her pussy, I began licking her, swirling my tongue around. As her purring lengthened, I started to drag my tongue across her pussy lips ever so often. Eventually, I pushed my tongue slightly between her lips and dragged its tip right up and onto her clit. She grasped the back of my head, holding me against her. I started licking her pussy earnestly, lapping, moving up to swirl my tongue around her clit, sucking it, then moving down to lap her again.

Suddenly, I stiffened my tongue as hard as I could and stabbed it into her cunt. She went rigid, “Oh, God, oh, unnghhh, unnghhh,” as I repeatedly stabbed my tongue into her, moving my head back and forth. I let go of one knee, letting her drop it onto my shoulder. I moved my hand under her and pushed the tips of two fingers into her cunt. Slowly, while flicking my tongue on her clit, I pushed my fingers into her. When they were in as far as they would go, I began twisting them around. I moved my hand against her, faster and faster, until she came with a loud groan, her legs tensing strongly, gripping my head, lifting herself off the couch. I kept my fingers firmly plugged inside her, not removing them until she stopped her convulsive contractions.

I laid her length ways on the couch. She kept her eyes closed, perhaps afraid to break the illusion. I scrambled up above her, placing my knees on either side of her head. “Keep your eyes closed, Dhelia,” I commanded her now. I pushed my PJ’s down my hips, freeing my rock hard cock. Painfully, I pushed it down toward her mouth. “Bad mommy, Dhelia, you didn’t finish me with your feet. Now you have to take it in your mouth.”

I pushed my cock against her mouth, shoving in a little before she could clamp her lips together. She tried to avoid it, moving her head to the side, but I held her head between my knees, pushing in a little further. “Stop it, Dhelia. You didn’t finish me. You know you have to do it this way, like always.” I pushed my cock right in, withdrew, and then started to slowly fuck her mouth. She let me do it. She didn’t suck, or help in any way, but she let me fuck her mouth. But that was enough. What a fantastic feeling, sliding my cock in her mouth. What an incredible sight, my cock moving in and out of her beautiful flushed face, her eyes closed, her hair in wild disarray. She was gorgeous.

I didn’t last long. When I came, she swallowed and started sucking for the first time. None spilled. No spunk came out of her mouth at all, no dribbles, nothing. When I was finished, I hurriedly got up and left, retreating to my room. I, too, was afraid to break the illusion. I wanted us to be able to play Dhelia and Greg again, and having to face ourselves afterwards might ruin it.

As I stepped into the shower, I could hardly wait to get out and meet Mom, and hopefully Dhelia, again. It wasn’t even dinner time.

Time dragged through the rest of Greg’s shift. It seemed like an eternity until 5pm, not because he had to work with cum drying in his pants, but because he could hardly wait to get home to see his Mom.

He kept remembering that incredibly sexy woman, his cock stirring each time her image flickered in his mind. He could hardly pay attention to customers the rest of that afternoon. He made few sales, trying to get rid of people as fast as he could so he could turn his full attention to the events of the afternoon. She was that guy’s mother! Thinking of it reminded him of his own mother, at least five years younger, and then he really got hard.

She’d told him to take his time, to be subtle, but he could hardly wait to get home. He wanted to get started and he knew exactly how to do it. He stuffed several pairs of shoes and a pair of high boots into his knapsack. He’d pick up a couple of chick flicks on the way home, and pizza, so his Mom didn’t have to make dinner. His Dad was a cop working night patrol. He wouldn’t be home until late, and he knew Mom would stay up late, sipping Vodka, waiting for him. Instead of retreating to his room, as he usually did, he’d stay up with her and get her to try on shoes, and see what happened.

“Hi honey, I hope you’re not hungry, I haven’t started dinner yet,” his Mom called out when she heard him come in the front door, just after six. She was sitting in front of the TV, watching a sitcom, already in her house coat, her floppy slippers stretched out on the coffee table, sipping from her glass. Her dark brown, shoulder length hair was in disarray. Normally, Greg would have been disappointed in her but tonight, he just thought, perfect.

“No sweat, I brought pizza, Mom,” he announced as he walked in an plopped two large pizzas, her favorites, onto the table.

“Really? That’s great, I’m so tired, I really don’t feel like cooking. What’s the occasion?” she asked, as she opened the top box and pulled out a slice of pizza.

“You are, Mom. On the way home, I was thinking about you and just thought you probably deserve a treat.”

“Really? That’s so thoughtful. C’mere, give your old mom a kiss.” She held her arms up to him.

Greg leaned down into his Mom’s arms, giving her a kiss on her cheek, then planted one at the base of her neck. Dhelia kept hugging him, so he planted another kiss on her neck. As he pulled away, he said, “I love you, Mom.”

“You’re such a good kid. I’m the luckiest Mom in the world. Grab a beer from the fridge and come eat this pizza with me.”

Greg sat near his mom as they ate, his leg pressed against hers. They watched TV and chatted during the commercials. When the pizza was gone, Greg didn’t move away. He stayed close to his mom. When he got another beer, he sat right next to her again.

“You’re being awfully nice to your mom. What are you up to?”

“Nothing, Mom. I just realized today how lucky I am to have you, that’s all.”

“Oh? What happened?”

“Nothing. Just this guy and his Mom came into the store, and they were so different.”

“How? What do you mean?”

“Well, they were just so nice together. I mean, she was his mom and everything, but they were really close. They held hands, he had his arm around her, and even kissed her once in a while. It was a little weird, but after they left I thought, ‘Why not?’ They didn’t do anything wrong. They just obviously loved each other. And then I thought, I love my mom, but I never show it, and I really want to change that.” Greg put his arm around his mom and squeezed her to him, giving her a kiss on her cheek as he did so.

“Well, lucky me. I guess I have some guy and his mom to thank for this pizza and all these hugs. You’ve got a lot of hugs to make up for, mister,” she laughed.

This was going well, Greg thought. “Oh, Mom, I forgot. I picked up some movies.” Greg opened his knapsack and pulled out the DVDs. “Oh, yeah, and I brought some shoes home for you to try on later.”

He put a DVD into the player and turned it on. Before he sat down, he turned the lights lower, then settled himself next to his mom again, putting his arm around her as he did so. Dhelia snuggled up to her son. They stayed like that through the first movie. Greg wasn’t sure how to take things further, and Dhelia was just enjoying the closeness of her son, of anyone for that matter.

When the movie ended, Dhelia said, “Let me up, I’ve got business to attend to.”

“But there’s another movie, Mom.”

“I’ll be back. Pour me another drink, sweetie.”

“Well, I’m going to get into my PJ’s too,” Greg replied, getting up to follow her upstairs. For some reason, Dhelia paused at the bathroom door. Greg grasped her shoulders from behind, leaned in, and kissed the base of her neck again.

“Mmmmm,” Dhelia murmured, “You’re being so nice to me tonight.”