Hot House Cafe
by Jo-Anne Wiley
Copyright© 2025 by Jo-Anne Wiley
Fiction Story: A mid-morning encounter with his mother’s old girlfriend results in champagne for brunch, a scandalous look at the skeletons hanging in the family closet, and leaves Will with his dick out— and craving a lick of the old girl’s ‘puss de jour’ for dessert.
Caution: This Fiction Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa Heterosexual .
He stood with an empty tray, eyeing the sausages at the brunch buffet. And thought about his cholesterol— “Humph...”
“William? William Wade ... is that you?”
The woman’s voice came from behind, just to his right and he turned. “Miss Lowell?” She stood, slim and tall in a gray-knit dress— and holding a hunk of broiled salmon, steaming on her plate.
“Please ... it’s Lacey,” her voice rolled melodically, like a swallow in flight. “I remember when I used to call you little Billy.”
The color gathered in the neck of his shirt. “They call me Will, now ... at school.”
“Will,” she repeated, tasting the sound on her tongue. “I like that ... Can’t decide?” she asked, looking at his empty plate.”
“The salmon looks nice,” he replied, glancing down. “I didn’t know you hung-out here.”
“Just once in awhile ... to treat myself to the Sunday Brunch. How about you? What brings you to the Hot House?”
“Diane and I used to come here in the evenings, before she dumped me. I was in the neighborhood this morning...” He shrugged.
“I heard. Your mother told me Diane moved in with some swank lawyer?”
“Yeah. Twice her age with a big house, a pool, and a Mercedes. I knew she was a bit of a money-girl, but never expected this.”
“So you’re here alone?”
The color about his shirt collar deepened. “I guess...”
“Look. My table is on the upper level. It’s quiet, more private, and we can talk. Fill your plate and join me upstairs, okay? We’ll catch-up. It’s been a bunch of years...”
“Thanks,” he muttered. It felt awkward but Lacey was a friend of the family, from way back. And even though she was his mother’s age, maybe even older, there wasn’t a guy in the restaurant that didn’t turn to check out the length of her stride and the way her clingy woolen dress rode up a slim thigh as she mounted the stairs. Salmon, he thought, casting an eye along the buffet. Where the hell is the salmon?
The upper level of the Hot House Café was an oasis he and Diane failed to discover. The roof beams of raw cedar gave the multi-leveled room a rustic but cozy feeling, complimented by the large skylights that gave the café its name. Rich greenery closed in about the tables adding a seclusion that was not attainable in the hustle and bustle of the main floor.
He found her at a corner table, head back against the cushions, eyes closed, luxuriating with warm winter sunshine highlighting the strands of her chestnut hair.
He paused a moment to stare. It was like seeing her all new and shiny— the clear skin about the curve of a cheek, the delicate contour of her neck, the lavish lips, slightly parted, her breathing— steady.
He hesitated, hating to disturb her moment.
“It’s okay. I’m awake,” she stirred. “It’s the sun in my hair. Even as a little girl, I would seek out a private place and lay with the sun on my hair and my shoulders. All the tension would ooze out ... out along my limbs, out through my fingers and toes. It was ... sensual ... for a little girl.”
“Really...”
“Mmm,” she smiled quietly, “and sometimes ... I would touch myself.”
She saw his expression flatten as he watched her pull a hand out from under the table. And she laughed. It was an unapologetic, ballsy laugh. A laugh from a woman who understood herself and knew what she was about. Something very new to him and certainly very un-Diane like.
“Do I surprise you Will?”
“Surprise? No. I think you thrill me. That’s the only way I can describe the feelings I just had ... when you placed your hand on the table. Like my chest just, just caved. I don’t think I have ever experienced anything quite like that before. I still feel a need to catch my breath.”
Was his mind playing tricks or did she suddenly turn all dreamy?
“Come, sit with me. Your salmon is getting cold.”
Will had to physically shake himself to get his feet to move but he managed a step forward and he placed a hand on the chair opposite from where she sat.
“No ... no.” Her chin came up and she patted the cushion of the bolster beside her hip. “Sit here, beside me.”
Sweat dampened Will’s armpits and he hesitated.
“Problem?” Lacey asked.
“It’s just suddenly ... I find you quite overwhelming.”
“Relax, it’s okay. I’m almost family ... not a praying-mantis.”
“No,” he grinned sheepishly, “you’re much prettier.”
“C’mon, then,” her smile was disarming, “sit beside me. Your salmon, remember?”
He shuffled around the end of the table, placed his plate down and slid in beside her. “It’s nice up here,” he said, looking around at jungle greenery.
“I like this table, better than the others.” Lacey leaned toward the railing. “I like to look down at the main floor and check out the sexy girls ... see what they’re wearing ... especially their heels. It’s a real fashion parade down there.”
A line creased Will’s forehead. “You watch the girls?”
“Of course.” Lacey flicked hair from her face. “It’s a woman-thing, you know? Has something to do with the diminishing size of the male herd. You wouldn’t understand. Women are always checking out the competition. Especially after forty.”
“I see.” He forked salmon into his mouth. “So I guess we have that in common: girl-watching.”
“Mmm...” She ran her eyes over his shoulders. “How’s school? Football, wasn’t it?”
“Yup. I play tight end.”
“I’ll bet...” She smiled.
“Huh?”
“Never mind. Go on...”
“Yes. I-I’m on a sports scholarship. But no aspirations of going pro-ball. I hope to make a career in sports medicine when I graduate.”
“Good for you.” She ran her eyes down across his chest again. “It’d be a shame to have some lout rack-up that body of yours. Tell me, now Diane has gone AWOL, do the girls at college take care of you?”
“I-I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Oh c’mon, Will. A young buck like you? And big and healthy to boot? You gotta have an appetite. I’m just asking if you got girls to help with that.”
“Yes. I mean no.” His eyes ranged across the tabletop looking for safe purchase. “I m-mean, not the way you think.”
Lacey, rubbing her thighs together, squirmed in delight. “Will, so self-conscious? Do I make you uncomfortable, dear? Here, have a drink to settle yourself.”
Lacey filled a wine glass from an iced carafe.
Will grasped at the stem of the glass like it was a lifeline she had thrown him. “What is this?”
“A mimosa. Champagne and orange juice. And here,” she pulled a small metal flask from her bag, “a shot of Grand Marnier to up the anti.”
His was shaking so hard she reached to enclose his hand in hers as she dribbled the brandy into his wine glass. Her fingers, though dry and cool, singed his skin like he’d placed his hand under the broiler.
“There, drink that down. Then have another.”
The brandy, floating on the surface, opened his sinuses and he gagged on the fumes. “I think one will be enough,” he said, reaching for a napkin.
“We’ll see...” Lacey gave him a Cheshire, kitty-cat smile. “Now tell me all about the girls you’re sleeping with. I certainly hope you are carrying the family tradition.”
“The family tradition?”
“Mmm. Your father had an enormous penis.”
Will’s eyes widened while his pupils pin-pointed. “Whaa ... Maybe I shouldn’t hear this.”
“Sure you should. Your father had a lovely cock. I just hope he passed it down.”
Will gulped at his drink. “B-but how would you know? Unless you peeked through the window one night.”
“Oh nothing so clandestine. Remember when your mother drove you to the ball games? And she would stay to watch you play?”
Will swallowed hard. “Sure. Every week mom was there in the bleachers, to cheer me on.”
“Yes. And I was in your mother’s bedroom, cheering your father on.”
“You mean you ... and my father? Together?”
Lacey cozyed up against the cushions. “Mmm. And Ricky Addams from across the street.”
“Ricky? But he was just...”
“Yeah. And your dad loved that.”
“But he was married to mom.”
“Yes he was. But I found out what he really liked and I remember him being so pleased when I brought a boy around to the house.”
“A boy? You mean there were others, besides Ricky?”
“One or two ... yes. I would take them around to your parent’s place and convince them that what your father was doing was quite natural and perfectly acceptable. And that the taste wasn’t so bad. I was older, a mother-figure I guess, and the little darlings listened to me.”
Will slumped, his face in his hands. “This is incredible,” he moaned. “Why would you do that?”
“Because my husband was gone and I needed something to fill the emptiness. And it made me feel terribly wicked to find boys for your father. And your father was there to help me, when I needed it.”
“You slept with him...”
“On occasion. But he really did like young boys. He never came on to you?”
“No,” Will thought a moment, “it was my kid brother, I think. I remember hearing him in Bobby’s room. It only happened a couple of times maybe. But I’d hear things. Noises. And sometimes the sound of the bed moving.”
“There you go...” Lacey looked down.
Will balled his eyes. “I never dared to think...”
“Of course you didn’t. So the family tradition is alive and well?”
Will bristled. “I don’t go after young boys.”
“Geez, I hope not. It’s the size of your cock that interests me.”
Will gave her a tortured look. “Please. Haven’t you done enough damage?”
Lacey ignored him. “I’m picky, you see ... Small cocks don’t interest me. Oh, I know they say size doesn’t matter. But I like it to hurt a little, going in. And being stressed by a reckless man makes me feel scandalous. And there’s nothing like feeling sluttish to bring on the multiple orgasms ... fast and furious.”
“I don’t believe this.”
She licked her lips. “You can’t tell me you wouldn’t like to feel the warmth of my mouth around the head of your penis.”
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