"I'm saying what we did is illegal. I'm saying I'm living with a sociopath who watches my every move, who bugs my home, and who would probably kill you if he found out. You're my son, and although I'll freely admit I find you highly desirable, and I enjoy the attention, I feel like I'm taking advantage of your youth and teenage male horniness. Mostly, though," she walked over and sat down beside him, "I don't want to ruin the best thing in my whole life."
"It will make it even better." He raised his arm to put it around her.
"No, Danny." She shied away, rising from the bed, and in that instant revealed how truly conflicted she really was. "Please let me be. I feel awful and I need some time."
"I don't feel awful, or at least I didn't when I woke up. It felt like I had something special all to myself and I wanted to hold it close and never let go."
She just looked at him, her mouth tight and her expression pained. "If I say 'no more', what will that do to you? Would you even honor my wishes?"
He thought about it for a moment, about giving up the hope of sex with her, the touches, that feeling of specialness. He would feel like a fool for having tried, and a failure for not succeeding. Danny never liked to give up, he hated it more than failure, but he recognized that to keep trying to seduce her when she truly did not want it would ruin their relationship and that would be far worse. He would become his stepfather, pushing Christie out of obsession, taking what he wanted from her with no regard for her needs. But with the way she responded to him...
"I know you like it, Mom, but if you really couldn't go further, I would respect that."
Her shoulders relaxed, and he realized he had been her first consideration. Not her own desires or needs, but what her son wanted and how to keep him happy while doing what she felt was right. He stood and headed for his own shower, but paused at the door. "Some day, Mom, you are going to learn that what you really want matters, too."
#####
One by one, Christie slid closed the drapes in the large hobby room, covering each wall of glass that looked out onto the back lawn and the pool.
What am I doing? This is crazy.
Danny might come to her. That was all she could think of. It didn't matter that there was a wall, shrubbery, and immense trees on every side, and even the nosiest neighbor with glasses probably couldn't see anything. That little possibility made her shutter the room tight against prying eyes, because Danny might come to her, and who knew what could happen.
Even Christie wasn't certain what she wanted to happen, but she knew that this morning ignited a flame that no amount of logic and self-recrimination could douse. She paused what she was doing, the edge of a drape clutched in her hand as she forced herself to admit the truth. Stroking him off had been coming for months, and she had waited for it with anticipation. Every time he sat too close and let her cuddle up to him, she had made the choice to let him. The hugs, the extra kisses on the cheek, even the long looks he hadn't thought she'd noticed, all excited her both sexually and on some deeper level that was desperately needy. And now she was watching him in return, seeing the strong, beautiful, attractive young man he had become. No, Danny wasn't male model perfect, but his face had a warm openness, his features a pleasing combination of Irish and African. Looking at his athletic body gave her electric twinges that ran from her clit to her nipples. When he touched her that electric heat flooded her entire body, making her dangerously aroused.
And she liked it. Steve never made her feel these things, and she wanted and needed to feel something good with a man like she needed to breathe.
Christie finished closing the drapes and went to the entertainment center. Yoga, pilates, weight-lifting, aerobics, she had tapes for everything to work out her body evenly, but mostly she danced. As a girl, Christie took dance lessons from age three until her pregnancy at fifteen forced her give them up, but she had never stopped dancing. The radio, exercise videos, night clubs and swing clubs, she danced with them all. Surprisingly, Steve also liked to dance, and they had taken swing and Latin dancing lessons together. Early in their marriage, it gave her hope. She accepted him as a partner because to not dance would be to let a part of herself die. Danny could dance, as well, and showed a talent and enthusiasm. But this afternoon she hoped to avoid him. He was at a weekend basketball practice, a perfect time for her to exercise her most sensuous dance moves without enticing her son into doing something they would both regret. Or she would regret. She was beginning to doubt Danny ever would.
She had dressed in black -- a leotard, tights, a sheer little skirt that hid nothing, and high-heeled dance shoes. It was sexy, but not overly revealing like the midriff-baring crop tops or the mini-skirts would be. Choosing a Latin dance CD, she spun out onto the floor for some free dancing, a slower rumba to warm up. A samba came on, then jive and salsa. The disc she'd prepared cycled around to a tango, and she started to really wish she had a partner. She could move to any beat, but the tango was a dance that was meant to be shared.
Then hands were on her. She shivered. Danny or Steve home days early? But she knew his touch, dammit, already. His hands caressed her waist in a slow way that probably had much to do with his hesitancy but achieved a sensual slide along the fabric of her clothing. Steve would have grabbed her and spun her around so that she was forced to face him, demanding, possessing.
And his smell was the same earthy body wash and shampoo he had used since junior high school. A faint hint of sandalwood and spice. It had been too mature when he first insisted upon using it, but now it fit him.
"You didn't have practice," she said. Feet still moving, she turned and gathered one of his hands into hers. Her own shook, but she couldn't stop herself.
"I forgot it was canceled."
"Do you remember the tango? We haven't danced that in a while."
"We need to fix that."
His palm in hers was cool and dry, his other hand firm now on her waist. The music came to a place where she had taught him to dip her, and he did so in one smooth move, her left leg automatically rising, forcing her pelvis against his for a few seconds. For that moment, briefly, it seemed right and natural. They separated, turning side by side, his arm around her, her hip brushing his. The dance progressed, moving them apart and then together again. An erotic tease. Thighs touching, hands sliding along arms and shoulders. Each time they drew together, Danny pulled her a little closer. Each time his arm encircled her waist, his hand crept a little lower on her hip, until the heel of his palm rested on her ass, fingers spread. When the time came in the dance, she pressed against him in the same way.
The music ended with them face to face, foreheads touching, mouths millimeters apart. His warm breath caressed her face. The disc had no other tracks; the room fell into silence. Christie's hand rested against the center of Danny's chest. She could feel his heart hammering inside it, like her own heart did in hers, far more than from the exertion of the dance. Exhilaration warred with panic as she wondered what she would do if he kissed her right now. Let him? Break away? She couldn't move and the moment became Danny's to do with as he chose.
He kissed her.
And she let him.
Softly at first, not like the demanding kisses of the morning. His lips brushed hers, parting slightly. Then his tongue licked at her upper lip. She opened her lips to let him in, and met the tip of his tongue with her own. Their tongues danced for a moment and then dove deeper. Danny's hands spread over her back and ass; Christie's hands clutched at his shoulders but slid into his thick hair as he pulled her closer, tighter, his erection a hard ridge against her abdomen. Weak with passion, her breasts and clit inflamed, she clung to him as the kiss deepened. Danny broke the kiss with a soft gasp to move his lips to her jaw and then the side of her neck.
She had no idea he could kiss like this. Where had the boy learned it? That thought brought her back to reality. This was her son. Obviously a sensual young man, but still her son. With reluctance, she pushed him away to arm's length.
"Danny--"
"You want it," he said. "I know you do." He was looking at the floor, rather than at her. It was a determined look he finally gave her. Not angry, not embarrassed or humiliated. Determined. Intense. "You want it."
Christie separated from him, backing away. "No. I can't. I--" She turned and ran for the doorway, her steps light as a nymph's as she ascended the three steps. At the top she paused and turned toward him enough to only show him her profile but not enough to meet his eyes. "Don't come to my room tonight, Danny," she said before leaving the room.
Danny wasn't about to let this go. He took off after her, the squeak of his basketball shoes loud in the quiet room. He bounded up the steps and caught up with his mother seconds later in the hallway outside. Grabbing her around the waist, he spun her and firmly but gently pinned her to the wall.
"You want this," he said again.
