*Author Note: The writing tense has been altered from past to present tense from this chapter going forward.*
I help in cleaning up the kitchen. This seems to surprise Mrs. Young. She is smiling more now than she had been earlier. There is a different glow about her.
The floor creaks loudly above us and out of reflex, I move away from her. The noise reminds me that we are not alone.
I wait to see if I can hear any further movement from Michael upstairs. The humming buzz of the bathroom fan comes to life through the ceiling, following the rumble of rushing water from shower.
Mrs. Young and I glance at each other at the same time with the revelation of this newly found time alone, daring the other to be the first to make some kind of move while Michael is in the shower.
What now?
It's almost three in the afternoon. The light patter of rain hitting the kitchen windows is soothing, but not as soothing as this woman's determined gaze locked on me.
"What am I supposed to do about you?" She asks, her voice so soft as she stands on the opposite side of the kitchen from me.
I'm silent and my heart leaps in my chest at hearing her borderline provocative words. A self reaction I wasn't expecting from such a seemingly innocent question.
She slowly moves toward me. My hands rest behind me on the edge of the counter as she approaches. Her eyelids look heavy even as she looks up at me. A look that your best friends mom shouldn't normally be allowed to give you.
I can feel myself getting hard from her close presence. Getting hard from just the thought of going up her skirt in the this very kitchen earlier today. Hell, the thought of that alone will do it for me for the rest of my life, I think.
We were almost caught by Michael. It was so close. I can't say I didn't enjoy the feeling of the risk. The horrified, embarrassed look on Mrs. Young's face oddly enough turned me on even more.
What was I expecting to happen? Was I going to get her off right there on the kitchen floor going up her skirt like that? Then what?
I'm supposed to be going home. My parents are coming back today. I've just been waiting on their call. The disappointment I feel. It's a bottled up feeling. Clogged would be a good word to describe it. What do I need? And her question still stands. What is she supposed to do about me?
What am I going to do about her?
"Matt?" Her voice hitches in question.
"Whatever you want." My voice comes out almost hoarse. My mouth is dry and I feel light headed in the best way.
I could come up with at least one reason for that. I'm rock hard leaning back against this counter in front of her, all the blood rushing to one place to bring it further to life, if that's at all possible.
Jenny's hand comes up to rest on my chest. My heart would jump right out if it were open. Her finger tips glide down my abdomen, lingering at the waist of my belted jeans.
My hard on is so obvious it feels like there's a third person in the room. I know it's her target right now. I want nothing more than for her to touch me there again.
"Matthew," she whispers. Her finger tips sneak just beneath my T-shirt to feel the skin there. She moves even closer to me until her body is saddled up right next to mine. I lower my head down to hers and rest there against her with closed eyes and shallow breaths.
She has to know what she is doing to me. If I could just rub my body against her I think that would set me off, quite embarrassingly. It would be that simple. I feel like I'm about to jerk off for the first time.
"Does that hurt?" She asks, fingers still teasingly touching the skin at the waist of my jeans.
I nod, although considering that it doesn't really hurt, rather my dick is letting itself be known and basically shouting, "I'm here. Touch me please!" I want to move my hips toward her from her acknowledgment of the growing pain, but I stay in place. I should behave. I don't want this to end sooner than it should.
"Hmm," she hums, fingers moving higher now underneath my shirt up to my chest. I feel the coolness of her rings on my skin there, knowing one of those is her wedding ring. Her other hand reaches for my abdomen again and rests there, feeling between the ridges of my muscles. I smile. What is she doing?
"Mrs. Young, are you feeling me up?" I ask, amused when I realize what's happening.
"Hm?" Her head raises to get a better look at my face and her expression softens when she sees mine.
"I am." She says shamelessly.
"As long as you're admitting it." I laugh lightly with her. Her cheeks are pink. It's the first time I've seen her show any kind of a flustered emotion. She's been so good at hiding what she's really feeling.
"Touch me." I request after a moment.
Even though her hands are all over me, she knows where I'm referring to. She looks down, her touch abandoning my stomach to travel more south.
She's not fast enough. Her fingers are trailing the top of my leather belt by the time I decide to make the decision. I take her hand and place it over the crotch of my jeans.
"Matthew," she scolds me, her eyes meeting mine. She's trying to show a shocked expression, but I only see the approval of a lustful one. In fact, her eyes look very glazed over. You were going to touch me there anyway, I think to myself.
"Oh, who did that?" I deflect, moving my hand away while hers stays right where I placed it.
Her eyes go wild and her smile widens. She can't believe me, that look says. Her hand holds pressure on my cock, but she makes no other movement. Her touch is so relieving; however, not even close to being enough. I want more.
"You're so different." She comments, eyes still on my face. A quizzical look directed at me.
"How so?" I say and wonder why we're still talking right now and not doing something else while we still can. Anything else!
She shrugs, "I don't know. The other day, you were my sons shy, little friend. Today you're..."
