As autumn began to melt into winter, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror one day and realized I had gained some weight. "Ugh, I look like a mom" I muttered. The rest of that day was spent putting together a diet and exercise routine. I dug out my old yoga DVDs and vowed to lose weight by Christmas. In my much younger days, I enjoyed a fair bit of success as a gymnast until I discovered partying and boys, so the discipline of losing weight came relatively easy.
After only two weeks, Zachary looked at me and said "Mama, you are losing weight. You look good." It was a passing and polite compliment but I was elated to receive it. I have never considered myself to be one of those women who craves attention from men but, I must admit, I wanted more. If he was noticing, maybe men in the office or in public noticed too. I set out to work even harder to get leaner and look better. Within weeks, I was addicted to the work and the attention it garnered. I didn't feel like a mom in her 40s, instead, I started to feel like a young vibrant woman who expected attention. The ancient wardrobe from the back of my closet trickled out and soon, I traipsed around wearing pencil skirts to work and yoga pants almost everywhere else. I flashed flirtatious smiles and constantly tried to draw attention to my mouth, boobs and butt. It was thrilling and my confidence grew by the day.
By January, I was spending over an hour per day doing yoga and aerobics in my living room. Typically, I would wear a sports bra and leggings. My muffin top had faded away and my arms were regaining tone. Zachary was being supportive daily and I caught him checking me out a few times. Maybe I should not have encouraged him to sneak glances or even stare at me but, I loved feeling his young eyes on me. Of course, he was like a son to me but he was not my son. I sometimes "accidently" let my thong crest out of my leggings and left an extra button or two undone on my blouse. He gawked and I loved it.
My mind wandered even further down this wanton rabbit hole I had created in my own home. My curiosity pondered what he might fantasize about. Was his horny, virgin brain thinking about me? The better I felt about my body, the more lustful my thoughts became. At the office, I adored the feeling of the vice president's eyes on my ass and the copy boy who constantly ogled my boobs made me smile every time it happened. I knew getting involved with anyone at work was forbidden and I wouldn't do it anyway, due to a fear of things getting awkward at work but the more attention I got, the more I wanted.
My opportunities to flaunt at work were limited as I had a job to do but at home, things were different. I could prance around and show off for Zachary as much as I pleased and I certainly did. The poor boy spent much more time in the living room instead of his bedroom. I don't think he ever missed one of my yoga sessions and I saw him take pictures of me with his phone. Maybe I should have stopped him but the thought of him, alone in his room, looking at the pictures and touching himself drove me wild! I felt like such a naughty hostess and mother figure but I was captivated by the idea of being the object of his young, inexperienced, naïve desire.
While running errands one afternoon, I picked up a little lollipop from a basket at at the bank. Honestly, I grabbed it because I like cherry flavored candy but instead of eating it, got distracted and tossed into my purse. After my workout, which got Zachary's attention more than usual and dinner, we sat and watched a tv show together. He kept looking at my legs and I became curious as well as a bit primitive and aroused. I took the lollipop and languidly sucked it as we talked. He tried to act normally but I saw him staring intently at my mouth. He took a throw pillow and tried to casually cover his crotch. The lustful power I realized I had over him was instantly intoxicating and all my wanton and maternal mind craved was to tease and torment him some more.
