Chapter 7

The conversation between Ryan and Jennifer was casual and pleasant. Both mother and son had a bevy of feelings and questions brewing just below the surface. But the openness of the restaurant and the steady presence of the wait-staff kept them from considering bringing-up anything of substance, although it had crossed both of their minds.

On the ride home, Jennifer remained cheerful. While she tried hard not to show it, she was extremely energized by what she had done in the hour before Ryan came home from school. She wanted badly to tip him off to what was to come, but her desire to let things develop naturally won-out and she kept quiet about her plan.

Ryan also had things on his mind related to the strange twists his relationship with his mother had taken. Things had quickly gone from him not being able to control his urges to jerk-off with her underwear, in places that got him caught in the act, to her becoming the one forcing mutual masturbation at first, then continuing to taunt him with more pairs of panties which she left in his room. He badly wanted to ask her why she was doing these things. Just as much, he wanted to know how he should respond. While the idea of anything overtly sexual with his mother made him feel creepy at best, there was also an inexplicable draw that held his interest.

When they got home from dinner, Jennifer excused herself immediately. "Well, I'm really beat, Sweetheart," she said. "I'm gonna get ready for bed and hit the hay." Ryan was curious about this, as it was considerably earlier than the time either of them normally went to bed. But, he had grown tired of wrestling with whether or not to ask Jennifer about her actions, so he welcomed the opportunity to be alone.

"O.K. Mom," he replied. "Thanks for dinner." Ryan entered the living room as his mother ascended the stairs to get ready for bed. He sat down and turned on the television, but after several minutes of channel flipping, he decided there was nothing that would hold his interest, so he headed up to his room as well.

Ryan had brought his books upstairs with him, thinking that he might study for a bit before going to bed. But when he entered the room and turned on his light, his eye was immediately caught by something unexpected. A CD case was propped up against the computer on Ryan's desk. He knew he had not left it there. He stared at the item with a puzzled look as he set his book bag down on the floor and closed his door. He went to the computer, picked up the disk and read the sticky note attached to the cover. "Some things for you to look at before bed..."

"Shit!" Ryan exclaimed in a whisper. "What is she doing to me now?" He wanted to march to his mother's room and either shove the disk under her door and walk away, or barge in, throw it at her and tell her off. But his curiosity got the better of him. Re opened his CD drive and inserted the disk. As he waited for the auto-play window to appear on the screen, Ryan told himself that he should absolutely stop right now and take the disk out. His hand went to the eject button. Just as his finger came in contact with it, the window opened. "Well, I guess I should probably see what's on the disk."

Ryan clicked the command link that opened the disk's files. The files had no names ... only numbers. "Well, here goes..." He clicked on the first file icon and was more than shocked at what he saw.

Up popped a picture of his mother, standing in front of her bathroom mirror. Ryan had seen pictures of this type before (of course, never with his mother as the subject). It was the style of picture that thousands of girls were posting on the Internet ... pictures of themselves, holding a digital camera, trying to adopt a certain look ... like cool, or tough, or sexy. Jennifer had clearly gone for sexy.

In the first picture, Ryan was glad to see that his mother was fully dressed. She was wearing a shortish skirt and a cotton tennis shirt. However, one of her hands was lifting the hem of the skirt at least six inches. Ryan thought it best to not look at any more pictures. However, he had felt the familiar crotch-twitch that had gotten him in trouble before. This almost always meant that he would move forward and not back, usually against his better judgment.