"Damn it," my husband Sam muttered, "he'll do the doors a mischief if he keeps that up."

The 'he' my husband was referring to was our 15 year old son Tom who was suffering what the behaviourists would call teenage angst, putting it more bluntly Tom was in a right sulk and a teenager sulking was calculated to get everyone on edge.

Though on this occasion I suppose he had a good excuse to be sulking, he was supposed to be going to a party later that day, but his date had been grounded by her parents for some reason and the party was a 'couples only' affair. If he had been a typical hormonal teen Tom would have had a 'back-up' girl waiting in the wings, only Tom wasn't exactly typical. Truth be told I was a little worried about him and I knew his father was too, Tom rarely seemed to go out and socialise, the girl that had been going to the party with him was in fact his first girlfriend. What was worse from his point of view was that this particular party was a 'must be at' for teenagers, and of course he wasn't going to be there.

"He'll just have to get over it." Sam sighed.

I nodded in agreement with my husband while wondering if we could survive this 'getting over it' period. Looking across the table at Sam I wished he wasn't going away that weekend, but the conference he was attending had him as a guest speaker so he couldn't back out of it. At 51 Sam was still a dynamic businessman that was still teaching 'young upstarts', as he called them, a few tricks. He was less successful in his bedroom skills, but I loved him nevertheless despite the 20-year age gap between us, I can still remember the shocked looks when I had announced that I was to marry a man in his thirties. I suppose those gasps came in part that at the time I was only fifteen. A year later I was to present him with a son.

A door banging upstairs jerked my mind back to the present; this sulk had now lasted three days, or put another way ever since he'd had that fateful call from his girlfriend.

"If I knew how to go about it I'd hire him a girl for the night!" Sam said with a sigh.

And from his words an idea suddenly formed in my head, if all my son needed was a female to show off why not his mother. Feeling pleased with myself I passed my thought on to my husband who put down his coffee cup and looked at me as though I were daft.

"Well," I said defensively, "I won't know anyone there so they won't know I'm Toms' mother... and besides, with the right clothes and make-up you know I can look almost 18 or a bit younger."

"You don't have to tell me how good you can look or how young." Sam grinned then frowned, "I'm not sure it's such a good idea though, Tom might feel a bit restricted with his mother hovering all the time."

"I would not hover!" I protested, "At least he'd get to go to the party and have a dancing partner for the night."

"Alright, alright Sara," Sam gave way reluctantly, "have it your way. Put the idea to him and see what he says."

As if on cue Tom walked into the room, his face bore such a pout it was hard not to giggle, slouching across the kitchen he went to the fridge and got himself some juice. He definitely looked one unhappy teenager. I couldn't hide a small grin as I twisted in my seat to face him.

"Tom," I started, "about this party..."

That was as far as I got before Tom's face filled with a look of anger, he was all set to give me some sort of cutting remark when his father looked up and simply said: "Listen to what she has to say then blow your top, if you still want to."

Tom shut his mouth and gave me his number one bad mood glare, he stood waiting for me to say my piece so I quickly obliged him and put forward my idea. As I spoke he looked at first incredulous, then thoughtful and then his sulky looked returned.

"It would never work mum." He grumped at me.

"Why not?" I asked bluntly, "No-one there has met me and I can dress to look a lot younger, young man."

"Yeah but..." he started t say.

"It's your mother's suggestion or nothing," Sam commented firmly, "take it or leave it. I suppose it all depends on how important being at this shindig really is to you."

It was obviously very important to Tom to be seen at this do, yet he still seemed unconvinced and I could see his features weave their way through all the pros and cons of having his mother as his 'date' for the evening.

"Well?" I asked after a long five minutes had passed.

"Oh all right." He finally sighed, "It's not as though I have much choice in the matter."

"Well thank you!" I responded feeling miffed by his tone.

"It's not that mom," he got in quickly, "you are a right smasher, only... well I mean..."

He faltered lost for words that would explain what he meant without digging himself an even deeper hole. In the end he gave up trying to talk himself out of the hole he'd dug for himself and that was that. With the party only a couple of hours away I needed to go bathe and doll myself up, and Tom had some preparing of his own to do. With Sam shaking his head we left the kitchen to go get ourselves ready for the night ahead.

After a nice long shower that left my body tingling I went into my bedroom to dress, as I passed the dressing mirror I paused to admire myself. As you can tell, I was a little vain, but then again I had some justification in being so, at 31 I still had my girlish looks and weekly sessions at the gym had kept my body firm and trim. Grinning at my reflection I took my 'party' clothes out of their hiding places, suspenders, black stockings, lace bra and panties finished the undergarments and a slinky wrap-over dress completed the ensemble. Then it was to my dressing table to apply my make-up, by the time I had finished I looked 15 years younger, just young enough to be Tom's 'girlfriend' in fact. Feeling pleased with myself I headed downstairs expecting Tom to be waiting impatiently for me to arrive, instead only my husband was there.

"Damn!" he grinned as I entered the living room, "How the hell do you do it Sara, you look almost exactly the same as you did when we got married!"

I grinned and gave him a cheeky little curtsey, which of course drew his attention to what I was wearing, he frowned then looked me in the eyes.

"Sara," he sighed, "just don't do your usual."

"My usual?" I frowned.

"Your usual," he said shaking his head, "forget whom you went to the affair with. I know you enjoy attention and like to flirt, but you lose focus and your partner. I'm used to it and I don't mind that much, but Tom is having a bad enough time accepting that the only way he can get to this shindig is with his mother as his date, he won't take too kindly to his own mother wandering off to flirt with the other males there."

"Oh Sam, I'm not that bad!" I protested knowing he was right.

"Maybe you aren't, maybe you are," he grinned taking the sting out of his words then became serious again, "but if you thought Tom's sulking was bad you wait and see what it's like if you do end up doing your usual thing."

Of course I promised I'd stick with Tom and give him all my attention for the whole night, though Sam still looked doubtful. Anyway, he had no more time to discuss the matter as Tom appeared in the living room doorway and I have to admit that he looked a very handsome figure, which made his non-socialising more of a pity. Sam looked at this watch then said he'd give us a lift to the party stating it would be quicker than waiting for a taxi or mini-cab, as a result we got to the party just after eight. Even being early we weren't the first to arrive by a long shot, the party was already in full swing so Tom and I got ourselves a drink then danced a few fast dances together. Tom looked to be enjoying himself and when we stopped for another drink he was smiling, though I'm sure he would have preferred to be with his girlfriend. We were about to go back to dancing when Tom leaned over to me.

"Won't be long," he said softly, "I need the bathroom."

"Okay." I smiled.

He'd barely left the room when another boy came over and asked me to dance, I figured that by the time Tom got back the boy would be back with his girlfriend, who I could see with a small group laughing and chatting. So I agreed and was soon bopping away to the music with this boy, just before the record ended I saw Tom wandering back into the room; he saw me dancing and went to get himself a drink. A few moments later the record ended and I was all set to go back to Tom when another boy came over to me as the next record started and asked me to dance. The boy seemed so eager that I hadn't the heart to say no; soon I was dancing to the music with this boy. I have to admit that I was enjoying myself, it seemed I was a popular dance partner as a steady stream of boys came over to dance with me and when at around nine thirty the music became slow and smoochy I didn't hesitate about letting one of the boys take me in his arms and start drifting around the floor.

A while later one of the boys let his hands drift lower than they should, I know I should have objected or something, but I was having too much fun and it just seemed sort of natural anyway. Things sort of escalated from there, the boy sort of kissed me and I sort of let it happen, then the record ended and another boy took his place. Within seconds of the music starting this boy had his hands on my bum and his lips on mine, I thought it a bit cheeky, but at the same time I enjoyed his attention and just settled in to enjoy myself. The boy certainly was cheeky; about half way through the record I felt one of his hands sliding up my body and onto my tit.

"Naughty." I said to the boy softly.

"Do you mind?" He grinned at me and squeezed my tit.

I laughed and let him get on with his touching me up, it was as his lips came back on mine that I had the nagging feeling that I was forgetting something, but his roving hands distracted my thoughts before they could gel, though the feeling I had forgotten something was there in the back of my mind throughout the night. And that seemed to set the pattern for the rest of the night; each boy that took a turn to dance with me lost no time in kissing me with his hands roving over me. My husband was often amused by the liberties I let some people take with me when I was in the mood, Sam called me his little flirt and tonight I was flirting like crazy. More than a few of the boys were more daring, these ones let their hands slide into the wrap front of my dress to get a good feel of me, but two boys in particular were exceedingly daring.

The first of these two took me in his arms at around ten, he had his hand in the top of my dress almost as soon as we got together, but he didn't stop there, his hand pushed into the cup of my bra and I felt him squeezing my bare boob. When I didn't make a fuss he started to play with my nipple and I'm afraid I gave him encouragement by letting loose a small hum of pleasure as he teased my already hard bud. Half way through the dance he slid his other hand into my top forcing it to gape around his wrists, then his hand was inside my bra playing with my other nipple. Shortly before the record ended he moved one of his hands down my body and slid it into my dress and straight onto my panties, for a few short moments he stroked my pussy through my panties. By the time the record came to an end I was more than a little excited and a bit disappointed that the boy let go of me and let another take his place.

The second daring boy was the most precocious of the lot, like most of the boys before him, one of his hands was into my bra as soon as the music had started, he felt up my tit then started to tease my nipple. Moments later I felt his other hand slide around my body from my bum and I expected it to rise upwards to my other boob, it was a surprise when I felt the hand slip into the wrap of my dress and onto my stockinged leg. I have to admit that I was curious as to how far this boy was going to try going, my curiosity was soon satisfied, without any hesitation his hand slid up my leg and onto the crotch of my panties. As his hand press to my pussy he parted out lips and looked me in the eyes with a knowing grin on his face, I could hardly deny I was feeling somewhat excited, not with his hand feeling the dampness of my pussy through my panties. The fact that I didn't object or try to move his hand away was all the encouragement he needed, as his lips descended on mine again his hand pressed and rubbed at my pussy with a firmer pressure. As our bodies moved with the music his hands moved on my body, one hand in my bra teasing my nipple, the other stroking my pussy more and more demandingly. When something touched my back I realised he had manoeuvred us into a quiet area outside the main room and now had me with my back pressed to a wall. All pretence at dancing went and he got down to some serious snogging and fondling, at one point the hand at my boob moved, a moment later I felt a tug at the knotted fabric belt and my dress went loose. This of course made it easier for him to fondle me, something he lost no time in doing by returning his hand to my boob, cheekily sliding my bra upwards to let my tits free of their minimal protection. Then his warm hand was back to its teasing and squeezing of my boobs and nipples, meanwhile his other hand kept up its motions on my pussy, I could feel my flimsy panties getting wetter as they pressed into my pussy under his sliding fingers. Leaning back against the wall I decided to let him get his jollies and hopefully a climax or two of my own. Pretty soon he had decided that I was enjoying his actions and went a stage further by slipping his hand in the side of my panties, moment later one of his fingers slipped all the way into my pussy, my juices coating it as he began to slide it in and out of me.

Once again he parted our lips and looked into my eyes, the growing excitement he must have seen in my eyes appeared to please him because he pushed as second finger into me and began to finger fuck me firmly.

"I shouldn't be letting you do this." I murmured half-heartedly.

"But you are." he grinned broadly, leant his head down and sucked at one of my nipples.

I felt myself rising to an orgasm under his touch, it seemed a shame to miss out on a climax, and so I let out a low moan and pushed my tit tighter to his mouth. By now he had pushed my panties all the way to one side and was going at both my pussy and my clit unhampered by even their flimsy material. Having his mouth on my nipple left him a hand free, this he used to grasp my wrist and to guide my hand down his crotch. I was surprised to find that instead of the fabric of his trousers I came in contact with his hard cock, I have no idea when he had managed to release it from his trousers. The few times in the past that things had got to this sort of stage Sam had stepped in after a few minutes to put a damper on the guys ardour, but it dawned on me that Sam wasn't there this time. As I started to wank the boy I hoped that was as far as he was planning on going, I might be a an outrageous flirt, but I am no pushover and in all the time I'd been with Tom the nearest I'd ever got to being unfaithful was the time I sucked a guy off at a party, mind you I was so drunk at the time I could barely stand. This time there would be no Sam to suddenly appear to save my 'honour' and a touch of concern filtered through my pleasure. I was just rising to a peak of pleasure when the boy raised his mouth from my nipple.

"Bet this is way better than anything that wimp of a boyfriend does for you." He grinned then went back to sucking on my nipple.

"Boyfriend?" I responded in a puzzled tone as I felt my climax rising.

Just like that the nagging thought gelled into just what it was I had forgotten, my son, Tom! My pending orgasm died on the spot as I pushed the boy away from me and readjusted my clothing. It was a little after midnight when I left the boy standing there with his dick hanging out of his trousers and a look of shocked disbelief on his face. Quickly I looked around the main room, but there was no sign of Tom, though I noted that the numbers of people present had dropped quite a bit and I realised that the party had been breaking up for some time. A small knot of boys and girls was standing talking so I went towards them to ask if they'd seen Tom, but, as I got closer I could hear their conversation and it stopped me in my tracks.

"Think Henry has finished with the slut yet?" one of the girls was asking; "Only I need to get home."

"He'll be a while yet," one of the boys replied with a laugh, "when I last looked he'd only got his hand in her cunt."

"What a whore!" one of the girls laughed.

Shaking off my shock at their words I finished my approach to them, as soon as they saw me the conversation changed, but the damage was already done.

"Has anyone seen Tom?" I asked biting back anger.

"Tom?" one of the boys mused, "Oh you mean the wimp you arrived with. Yeah, I saw him, it was about two hours ago as he left in a huff."

"Oh shit!" I muttered to myself as I rushed off to get my coat and purse.

With an ever-growing feeling of major guilt I called a minicab and berated myself mentally for doing the very thing my husband had warned me not to do! Although the cab only took five minutes to arrive it seemed to be an eternity during which my feelings of guilt rose and a deep shame at what I had done to Tom by forgetting he was there filled me. When the cab came I sat impatiently in the back urging the driver to go faster.

"Listen lady," the driver said without turning his head, "there's no way I'm speeding, we get there when we get there."

We got 'there' fifteen minutes later, dreading facing the consequences I rushed into the house.

"Hi hon." Sam greeted me as I entered the living room, his smile becoming a frown when he saw I was alone, "Where's Tom?"

"He's not here?" I asked with panic in my voice.

"No, he's not." Sam replied, "Don't tell me, you went and did your usual even after I warned you not to!"

I blushed with guilt and shame, hanging my head unable to voice a reply, but my demeanour was enough to tell Sam that he was right on the button.

"Oh Sara how could you!" he sighed, "This is all I need, the cab will be here soon to take me to the airport to catch my flight. When did you last see him?"

"Around nine." I replied with tears welling up in my eyes, "Someone told me later that he'd left around ten, ten thirty."

"Christ, and you didn't notice he was missing for over two hours?" Sam gasped in dismay.

I could tell that Sam was holding back his anger at my actions; his concern now was where our son was.

"I hope he hasn't done something stupid." He muttered darkly.

"He wouldn't... would he?" I gulped.

"Sara, Tom was already down from being dumped already this week," Sam replied, "now you go and do it to him again. You know how introverted he is, two blows like that, especially as one of them came from his own mother, will have had some negative impact on his ego. He's a mixed up, depressed teenager, he could do anything!"

"Oh God!" I cried with my tears flowing down my cheeks.

Just then the front door opened and closed with a bang, the figure of our son passed the living room door and Sam called out to him.

"What?" Tom snapped as he came back to the living room doorway.

"Where have you been?" Sam asked firmly.

"Bloody well walking home!" Tom snorted.

I noted that throughout all this he wasn't looking at me at all, in fact he was acting as though I wasn't even there. I also noted that his eyes were reddened as though he'd been crying.

"Your mother was worried," Sam persisted quietly, "your leaving like that without a word frightened her."

"Yeah," Tom half muttered, "and how many hours later was it that she even noticed I wasn't there?"

"Tom I..." I faltered as his eyes looked at me for the first time; the anger, betrayal and hatred I saw there took the words out of my mouth.

Looking back to his father Tom totally ignored my presence again and this, more than anything else hurt me to the core.

"She would have assumed you were dancing with the other girls there." Sam said in my defence.

"Oh yeah, fat chance," Tom snorted in disgust, "if I'd tried that I'd have had my head kicked in. The only mug there was me and I sat half the night like a prat waiting for her to remember I even existed."

"That 'her' is your mother boy." Sam responded a little annoyed now.

"Yeah, so you tell me." Tom snapped back, "Well you can keep her!"

The venom in my son's voice made me gasp in dismay, even Sam seemed momentarily lost for words.

"Apologise to your mother." Sam said at last.

"What mother?" Tom snorted.

"Tom!" I gasped with my heart feeling as heavy as lead.

"That's it!" Sam snapped in anger, "Apologise to your mother or go to your room and be grounded until I get back."

"Fine." Tom replied turning to leave the room.

"Tom, please," I called out to him desperately, "I'm sorry, Tom, God I'm so sorry!"

He left the room as though I hadn't even existed let alone cried out to him, if he'd turned and slapped me across the face the shock couldn't have been any greater! Despair filled me and I had no-one but myself to blame for alienating my own son by my actions. As Sam opened his mouth to speak the doorbell rang, with a curse he went to the door, a moment later he looked into the living room.

"It's my cab," he sighed, "I have to go love. Damn it, why did this have to happen tonight!"

"But Sam," I gasped in despair, "what do I do about Tom?"

"I have no idea," he replied with a deep sigh, "you could try making peace with him while I'm gone, if he'll talk to you. I'll try talking to him when I get back on Friday."

He gave me a brief kiss and hurried out to the cab with his suitcase in hand leaving me alone with the consequences of my actions. A few minutes later I went upstairs and tapped at the door of Tom's room, there was no response so I tried again a little louder, but there was still no response.

"Tom?" I said softly.

There was no answer so I tried to open the door and was shocked to find that he'd locked it.

"Tom!" I called out, "I need to speak with you."

"Go away you... you... whore!" he called back at me, "Don't come near me, don't even talk to me!"

Stunned I turned away from his door and stumbled as though in a trance to my bedroom, flopping onto the bed I began to cry, sobs wracking my whole body as I heard his words of rejection over and over again in my head.

I must have cried myself to sleep because the next thing I knew I was waking up on top of the bed, fully clothed and feeling awful. Waking brought back the tears and the echoes of his words; I felt as though my whole world had crumbled when he'd voiced those few words. Wishing I could turn back the clock I got undressed, showered and put on dressing gown, even the shower hadn't been able to wash away my tears or the guilt I felt. It was only seven in the morning, but the first thing I did when I got downstairs was to pour myself a large vodka. Sitting in the living room I cried and sipped in equal measures, before long the glass was empty and I poured myself another, I think I was trying to drink myself senseless, but this day drinking wasn't working. At the same time I was hoping that Tom would come down from his room, that he'd give me half an opportunity, but as the time passed it became clear that he had no intention of stirring from his room unless forced to.

About nine the telephone rang, it was Sam ringing to let me know he'd arrived safely and to ask how things were. I sobbed out what was happening to my husband, even what Tom had called me.

"He didn't mean it love." Sam tried to comfort me.

"You didn't hear his voice Sam," I sobbed, "he meant it! And he's right! I am a whore!"

"Sara, calm down," came my husband's soothing voice, "Tom's upset and just lashing out. Give him time, he'll settle down again."

"I wish you were here Sam," I wept back, "I can't bear this alone. Tom hates me, he really hates me Sam!"

"I wish I was there too hon," Sam sighed, "but I'm stuck here. As for him hating you, I doubt that. I doubt that very much. Sara you need to pull yourself together and try to talk with Tom, deep down he loves you darling, he'll listen sooner or later."

As he rang off I hoped he was right, but my inner fears kept telling me that I had managed to drive my son away from me. Nevertheless I tried to talk to him, which wasn't easy through a locked door, but I stood leaning against the door to his room and talked my heart out, all I got in return was silence. Heartbroken I eventually went back to the living room and poured myself another drink; sitting alone with my misery I watched the living room doorway in the vain hope that Tom might appear. At about noon I heard his door close, with hope blossoming I listened to the sounds of him descending the stairs, and then he came into view in the hallway.

"Tom?" I said as he walked past the door.

He totally ignored me, not even glancing my way as he left the house. Two hours later, two hours of despair for me, he returned and even though I stood in the hall directly in front of him he acted as though I wasn't there. There wasn't even a flicker of a glance my way as he brushed past me and went back up to his room, stunned I went back into the living room, collapsed on the couch and just stared mindlessly at the carpet at my feet. I sat there for hours lost in my guilt and despair; even the growing darkness in the room didn't draw my attention from my misery.

The sun rose on the Sunday morning to find me still sitting in the same position, sleep had not even been a passing thought as I sat lost in my desolation. Wishing I could just curl up and die I decided to make another attempt to talk to Tom, with a heavy heart I made my way up to his locked door, as I leant against it I could have sworn I heard a sob from the other side of the door.

"Tom?" I said softly, "Please Tom, I need to talk to you."

There was no response, had I not known better the room could have been empty. His silence hurt me to the core, but out of sheer despair I persisted.

"Please Tom," I pleaded, "just give me five minutes. Just five minutes, please Tom, please, I'm begging you Tom."

After ten minutes it finally sank in that he was not going to even acknowledge my presence let alone respond to me. In a waking nightmare I stumbled back downstairs and fell onto the couch weeping my heart out, knowing that the whole situation was my fault just made me feel all the worse. The strident ringing of the telephone drew my attention eventually, but even knowing that it was likely to be my husband calling I couldn't summon the will to make the small movement to answer it. On and on it rang as I sat staring blankly at the floor through my tears. Suddenly the sound stopped and I heard the mutter of a voice, my heart leapt as I turned my eyes in the direction of the phone to see my son standing there with the receiver to his ear.

"Tom!" I breathed.

"Yes dad," he said into the receiver ignoring me completely, "she's here."

The venom in his voice made the breath catch in my throat as I listened to my son's side of the conversation numbly.

"I don't care any more dad... She sure showed it that night!... No!... Fine, I'd rather... But... I'm not the one that... I... But... Yes dad. He wants to talk to you."

I couldn't believe that he'd spoken to me directly, for a moment I just stared at him, finally he thrust the receiver towards me and I took it dazedly.

"Sam?" I almost whispered into the receiver.

"Sara," my husband's voice came through the instrument, "I've persuaded Tom to give you a chance to talk, for God's sake don't blow it!"

"I'll try not to Sam." I breathed, "Thank you."

"You'd better get talking to him before he changes his mind," Sam replied, "I'll call again tomorrow. Bye for now my love."

Putting the phone down I turned to look at my son, he was glaring at me with his arms crossed over his chest and I suddenly couldn't find the words to explain what had happened. Feeling lost and helpless I sat there looking up at my son praying for some inspiration or even better, a miracle.

"You wanted to talk," Tom eventually snapped, "so talk!"

"Tom," I said softly, "I don't know how to explain what happened so you'll understand it. Your father knows what I'm like, but I didn't think I'd slip because I was with you. I never wanted to hurt you, never!"

"So you say." he snorted, "Do you have any idea how it hurt to leave you for a few minutes and come back to find you giving all your attention to everyone but me?"

"I'm sorry Tom, I'm so sorry." I said with my tears starting to flow again, "But I do know the pain you must have felt, I've been feeling it every moment since. I honestly thought you'd be dancing with the other girls, they had to be free if their boys were dancing with me."

"Yeah, they were free," he almost snarled, "but unlike my date they simply waited for their date to come back to them, they didn't want to know me and neither did you!"