Quiet on the Set

A year after Oliver's passing, life had moved on, more or less. Her son had gone back to LA, her daughter, back to Dallas, and Abby remained in the house overlooking the Potomac. Oliver loved that view. More specifically, he loved making love on the cliff over the water in more or less full view of the neighbors and any traffic that happened by. Martin, their grandson, had moved in mostly to attend college at AU, but in part to keep 'Ma' out of mischief.

Martin's mixed heritage showed plainly, giving him naturally tan skin, dark wavy hair and deep brown eyes. He insisted on mowing the lawn himself saving her from the gouged prices of the teen next door, so over the summer Abby had seen nearly every inch of his muscular legs and barrel chest, wide back and strong arms. In fact, the only part of him she hadn't seen was the one she longed for most — his 'rod and reel' as Oliver used to say.

Abby felt cheated. When Oliver used to mow, he'd come in sweaty and take her hard and fast on the kitchen floor. Or the back of the couch. Or wherever he found her. Really, any excuse to work up a sweat was an excuse to 'work up a sweat'. And anywhere was just fine — they had wired most of the house for their personal video collection. She had turned off the cameras in Martin's room when he moved in but was now thinking more and more about turning them back on.

He was her grandson, for God's sake, she told herself yet again. But lust knew no boundaries — not gender, not age, not race, creed, religion or relation. She was hot for him. She wanted him like bread wanted butter. What was a little incest? The only taboo she had left. She and Oliver had pretty well exhausted most of the others. They had made films in nearly every genre — bi, gay, lez, bondage, spanking, rape (her by him and him by her), pregnant, peeing and the other (not her favorite but Oliver liked being 'brown' occasionally), dogs (only once and early on), there were probably others but she couldn't remember every thing. And besides, she was really only interested in getting it on — it wasn't her fault if the only man currently available was a relative.

Well, that wasn't quite true. Several men at the church had all implied that they were willing to court her. Elderly gents, fine men, but well, old. She had seen a few her own age and found, sadly, none were the measure of her Oliver. Most younger men — her son's age — were curious but not bold. Abby never pretended to be younger than 65 but she certainly didn't look it. She retired by choice but she could have continued working — playing mothers and aunts and other 'MILF' women. The few "granny" videos they'd done didn't sell well because she looked too young. She had retained her figure, going a bit plump rather than lean but combating it was a strict daily workout. But she needed more aerobics — Oliver used to keep her heart rate up. Now she needed someone who could do it without Viagra — unlike the churchmen.

Martin waved at her from the yard and stretched. His chest glistened in the mid-day sun. She smiled, waved back, and closed the curtain. It wasn't fair! He was just the stud she needed but she couldn't touch him just because her daughter gave birth to him. So what?

Abby's mood was shoot for the rest of the week watching Martin around the house. She re-played the video of him sweating in the kitchen and played with herself nightly. Then she watched the videos of her playing with herself while watching him. She kept the hottest one for the collection and recycled the rest.

Friday night, Martin was home for dinner. For once. He was very popular with the college girls and didn't spend many nights home or alone — another reason Abby wanted to re-activate the cameras. But, he stayed home that night and Abby was glad to have even a portion of his attention.

"Hey, Ma," he asked over their simple dinner of chops and rice. "You and Granddad were in the movies, weren't you?"

"Oh!" She laughed lightly. "We made a few odd industrial things. Nothing you'd care to see."

"Actually, I'm doing a paper on Blacks in the Film industry. But I didn't see you or Granddad listed anywhere."

"Well of course your Grandfather wouldn't be listed with black folk in films."

"Oh, well, yeah." he took a bite and chewed slowly. "But you should be mentioned. Somewhere. Right?"

Abby chuckled. "Well why on earth? Do you know how many people work in the movies?"

He nodded. "True. A lot. But not Black folk. Not Black women, in the fifties and sixties..."

"Sixties and seventies, dear. I'm not that old."

" ... and not who have a collection of gold statues."

Abby stared at Martin for a long moment. "Those are in my bedroom closet. What were you doing in my bedroom closet?"

He shrugged and had the good grace to be embarrassed. "When I brought up your laundry a couple weeks ago, the door was cracked and I saw one of them. I opened the door, saw the whole shelf and heard you coming before I got a good look at them."