A Mother by Any Other Name.

"Is Marnie there Darling?" My mother asked me down the phone line. "I was wondering if she'd like to come to the ballet with me this weekend?"

It was the phone call I'd been dreading. Not having spoken to Mom and Dad for a couple of weeks, they were as yet unaware of our break-up. Mom in particular was extremely fond of Marnie; sharing common interests, they were regulars on the art and theatre circuit, accompanying each other at least once a month. I expected her to be particularly upset by the news.

"No, she's not Mom," I struggled. "Actually you're not gonna like it...we've decided to call it a day."

She was quiet a moment and I thought we'd actually lost the connection.

"Are you there?" I asked.

"Yes, I'm. Well I'm just shocked is all," she replied. "What did you do?"

"What do you mean, 'what did I do?' It was a mutual decision."

"Oh," she answered. "Oh. Well is there someone else?"

"What? No, I mean not yet."

"Oh." I could hear the apparent disappointment in her voice and then she reinforced it. "I'm just really surprised to be honest Liam. I, we thought she was the one."

The conversation was turning out how I'd expected it to go and didn't feel like extending it.

"Don't be. I'm not. I'll find someone else."

"That's the way to look at it Darling," Mom concurred. "Plenty more fish in the sea. Oh what a horrible expression."

"So yeah, the ballet," I tried to change the subject. "Guess Dad's your date."

Mom laughed at my suggestion. "Ugh, your father? I don't think so. Marvin's idea of culture is humming Ode to Joy whilst he watches Die Hard. No I guess I'll have to skip it. I was so looking forward to going."

Still confused by her reference I rolled my eyes. "Did you want me to go with you?"

Again she was silent a moment. "Would you?"

"Well what is it first?" I asked.

"Swan Lake."

"The one with the chicks dressed up like ducks?" I hammed up my ignorance.

"Swans Darling," Mom managed, probably aware I was playing her. "It's in the title."

It wasn't really something I was interested in but admittedly I hadn't been out of the house socially for a fortnight and it wouldn't hurt to earn some Brownie points with Mom.

"Alright, I don't have to wear a tuxedo do I?"

Now fully cognizant of my joking, she laughed.

"No. No you don't have to wear a tuxedo! Seven p.m. Saturday, will you pick me up?"

"It's a date," I replied.

*

"She's not ready? She said seven!" I exclaimed at my father as he offered me a beer from the fridge to which I shook my head.

"You know your mother," Dad countered and I followed him into the living room.

"I heard that," Mom acknowledged from the hallway and entered through the adjacent door.

Full disclosure. I wasn't attracted to my mother! Sexually. Never had been, and as far as I was concerned, never would be. But I had to admit, when she walked through the doorway and my head turned toward her, I thought she looked stunning. Her hair up and head kinked as she attached an earring, she was bare shouldered save for the thinnest spaghetti straps from her long black satin dress.

"Look out Liam," Dad laughed as she entered. "Your prom date's here."

I didn't share the joke as I tried to drag my eyes up from her cleavage. With no bra straps, I marvelled at how impressive her breasts looked and figured she had donned a strapless push-up bra, amazed at myself for even debating the underwear my mother sported.

"Oh stop it Marv," Mom chastised and her earring fixed, approached me for a welcoming peck on my cheek. "Ooh sorry, lipstick," she remarked as she leaned back, before raising her hand to her mouth and licking a finger. Reaching out she rubbed the side of my face with her moistened digit as I stood there slightly dumbfounded.

"He's twenty-eight Rose, not eight!" Dad laughed, turning his head back to the television.

"Oh nonsense. You'll always be my little boy," Mom smiled, happy with her job and focussing her attention on the contents of her clutch purse. "Okay. Got the tickets, more lippy just in case," she smiled again at me. "I think we're ready to go."

Dad once again looked in our direction.

"I want her home by eleven son," he laughed. "And no fooling around in the back seat!"

I felt my face go red and although it was just my father's regular sense of humour, hoped neither of them had actually seen me peering at my mother's breasts. My mother's breasts. Even thinking the words felt uncomfortable. Compounded as I casually looked at her rear as we headed toward the front door and saw not a shred of panty-line.

"You knock her up, you marry her!" Dad shouted as I closed the door on his laughter.

"Ugh," Mom groaned as we reached the car. "You wonder why I don't go anywhere with him!?"

What I was wondering as I glanced again at Mom's curves was how I'd never noticed my mother was...hot!

*

"Wine?" I offered as we mingled in the foyer of the theatre.

"Oh, Marnie and I don't normally. Oh sorry, I probably shouldn't mention her should I?" Mom apologised.

"Why not? She's not dead, we just separated."

"I know but it's probably still raw," Mom proposed, placing a hand on my arm.

"Actually I'm good," I reassured her. "It's been nearly three weeks. I'm ove..." And then I saw her.

Mom must have seen the look on my face and followed my eyes to where I looked. Marnie. In the arms of another. Well, in the hands of another. The guy's right hand casually stroking her ass in front of everyone; Marnie complicit, stretching her neck back as he kissed her throat.

"Well someone's quickly moved on!" Mom opined, taking my arm and directing us toward the bar. "Come on, let's get that drink."

You don't know how you'll react to seeing your ex with another until it happens and though not thrilled with the sight, I first of all actually didn't care. So what that she had found someone else and was out enjoying life? Was I any different? I was in public, not moping in a darkened room. I was enjoying life's bounties as I sipped the wine my mother had ordered. I was on a date with a beautiful woman as I noticed men's eyes assess my mother from afar. And there was the rub. As I looked around I saw countless couples, both young and old. Arm in arm. Happily chatting, courting. And there I was on a date with my Mom. I quickly downed my glass and called for another.

Thankfully we didn't run into them heading into the theatre, nor were we seated in their proximity. Mom could see she was on my mind and to be honest, I payed little attention to the dancers during the performance. Intermission came and Mom encouraged me to go out and get another drink but I declined and sat grumpily in my seat. Loathe to move less I saw HER again.

"Well I might," she stated, obviously frustrated with me. Standing up she slinked past my slumped legs and as she did so I caught sight of the tops of her stockings in the slit of her dress. "Honestly, it's like being with your father!"

The words cut deep. I immaturely gave her the stink eye behind her back as she walked away, a fellow male patron rising from his seat to allow her passage, his eyes checking out her ass as he did so. I trained my own on his fixation and had to agree. My mother or not, she did have a great ass.

I looked back at the closed curtain on the stage feeling sorry for myself and repeated her words. 'It's like being with your father.' I felt like an asshole. She'd come for a night out to enjoy herself, dressed up immaculately in the process and I was doing my best to ruin the evening. I slapped the arm rests and boldly stood up, not caring if I was seen by Marnie and her new beau. Excusing myself past the other patrons I made my way to the crowded mezzanine and scouring the assembly found her at the bar; in the act of brushing away the obviously unwanted hand of a man clearly her senior from her arm. Ambling to her side I caught the last of his words. "...you say that but every time we meet you're with a lady, no husband!"

"Is there a problem M..." I began to ask my mother before she cut me off.

"Well there's timing," she smiled at the man before placing one hand on my shoulder, the other pressing to my chest whilst she leaned in and lightly kissed me on the lips. "Just play along," she whispered in my ear before once again looking at the interloper. "Charles, meet Liam. My husband!"

I didn't know who was more surprised, him or me?

The man took a moment to size me up, easily his measure in physicality, age and dare I say it, looks, he cleared his throat. "Ahem, yes well it's lovely to have finally met you," he stammered before looking over our shoulders. "Ah there's Giles. I must say hello. Forgive me.."

And with that he scurried away seemingly as fast as his ageing knees would allow.

"Oh that was wonderful!" Mom exclaimed, turning to face me fully. With both hands now on my chest, she almost caressed my pecs as she looked up into my eyes. "You don't know how long he's been pestering me. Did Marnie ever say anything?"

I shook my head as in the corner of my eye the barman nodded at us. "Um two white wines please," I quickly ordered, again focussing attention on Mom, her glowing face. "No. I saw him touching you. I was going to kick his ass."

"Oh he's harmless. Just annoying really. I can't tell you how grateful I am that you showed up when you did. I didn't embarrass you did I?"

I paid for our drinks and presented Mom with hers.

"No not at all," I assured her, glancing around the room as we headed toward the lounge and noticing Charles eyeing us suspiciously from afar. "Oop hold the phone, I don't think he's convinced."

Mom began to look in the direction I'd glanced before I stopped her. "No don't look," I directed before taking matters into my own hands. Literally. Continuing on with the charade we were a couple, I placed my arm around her waist, pressing my hand on her upper hip. The warmth of her skin seeped through the satin, the dress moving against her flesh under my touch. The feeling was pleasurable and I had to remind myself it was my mother's body I felt.

She didn't seem to be having the same dilemma. Placing her own hand atop my own, she encouraged me to caress lower, moving my palm down onto her buttock. A cheek of my mother's ass right there in my hand, gently swaying as we strolled. If our open display of affection hadn't convinced him yet, surely nothing would, but as we found a seat and I reluctantly removed my hand from Mom's butt, she decided to continue our deception. Crossing her legs, the dress parted to reveal her stocking tops, Mom doing nothing to hide the fact. "Kiss my neck," she whispered as she looked in my eyes, before without waiting for me to object, throwing back her head. Seamlessly, I leaned in and planted my lips on her throat. The most awkward but gentlest of kisses, before repeating the action more confidently slightly higher on her jaw. I saw her breasts heaving with her breath as I enjoyed my view of her cleavage and as I leaned back, goosebumps raised upon her arms and neck. Had she enjoyed it as much as I had, I wondered?

The bell signalling the beginning of the second act rang throughout the lounge as I watched Mom grin between sips from her glass. "That would've done it Liam," she remarked. "Great acting by the way Darling. We were so convincing, don't you think?"

I quickly drank my own wine. 'Acting,' I thought. Was I? I'd wanted to kiss her neck. Even then, open to once again touch her body. Not just her ass, anywhere. It was completely wrong and feelings that were entirely foreign to me. Acting, I repeated. Yes, just acting. But as we filed back into the theatre, I allowed our hands to touch, casually taking her fingers in mine as she smiled towards me. "Just to be on the safe side!" I whispered.

*

Was I disappointed when Mom began regaling Dad with the story of what had happened at the theatre? Most definitely. I didn't even really know why. Maybe because I wanted it to be our secret. A sordid little incestuous detail we'd refrain from sharing with others. Was it incest though? Could it be if it was only an act?

"So old 'wandering hands' Charlie finally got his comeuppance did he?" Dad laughed and it frustrated me everyone seemed to know more about my mother's life than I.

"And Liam played the part perfectly," Mom added. As she'd done earlier in the night, she cocked her head to remove her earrings and I thought of kissing her neck. Of admiring her stocking clad legs during the second act. Of touching her ass. My feelings weren't an act. No joking or dismissiveness could remove that fact.

"Grab a beer," my father suggested after Mom had excused herself for bed. I watched her go longingly. Her ass the last sight I caught as she left the room. That magnificent ass.

"I probably shouldn't," I admitted. "I had a few glasses of wine earlier, gotta drive home."

"Stay the night," Dad proposed. "You have to be anywhere in the morning? Your mother tells me you're going home to an empty house anyway."

It was the first time I'd even thought of Marnie in hours. Not even during the exploits in the lounge. I contemplated Dad's offer, my old bedroom, Mom sleeping not two rooms down the hall and it didn't take me long to make up my mind.

"Alright, I will," I agreed, heading from the living room into the kitchen. "You want one too?"

"Does the Pope shit in the woods?" My father eloquently replied and I took two from the fridge.

"I've just gotta take a leak," I stated to Dad as I passed him his beer, placing my own on the coffee table.

"Let your mother know you're staying the night as well," he declared. "You don't want her walking around the house naked!" He laughed as I exited the room.

The volume from the television decreased rapidly as I ventured along the hallway. Not being purposefully quiet I neared the partially opened door of my parent's bedroom, light streaking across the darkened corridor. Not knowing what I would see, my father's final words ringing in my ears, I casually crossed the gap, glancing in as my mother's black satin dress fell from her body.

The moment lasted no more than a few seconds. Her head turning toward me as I scanned my eyes up her stocking clad legs. The stay-ups with a black lace band, before the bare skin of her upper thighs. The curve of her ample yet perfectly peachy buttocks. A black lace thong bisecting the cheeks. I was correct. A strap-less bra. So perfectly pushing up her breasts which in turn faced me as she registered my presence.

There wasn't a frantic rush to cover her near naked form. I didn't turn my head, diverting my eyes as if looking upon Medusa. So casually we looked upon each other and a slight smile came to her lips.

"Sorry Mom, I was just going to the toilet," I explained my presence. "Dad also said to tell you I'm staying the night."

"Oh wonderful, probably best not to be driving," she beamed. "I'll make sure your bedroom is ready."

I dragged myself further down the hall, reaching the bathroom as I heard her call from behind. With half her body projecting from the doorframe, I could see she'd unclasped her bra, holding it gingerly upon her bulging breasts.

"I had a great time tonight Darling," she enthused. "You're much more fun than Marnie anyway."

Was that acting? I asked myself as I held my cock in my hand. I'd lost the desire to pee, my dick swelling as I closed my eyes and pictured her in her underwear. Jesus, she was my mother. Nothing could come of it. What was wrong with me? I stuffed my erection back in my pants and flushed the toilet for show. The door to her room closed (what had I been expecting?) when I again made my way back down the hallway, I resigned myself to a late night of television and beer with my dad.

*

"I put new sheets on your bed!" Mom surprised us as she entered the living room. "I can't remember the last time someone slept in there." Seeing her I cursed myself for not having gone to bed earlier in the hope of actually catching her in the act. Dad must have noticed her appearance for once as well as he took a double take.

"What have you come as?" He commented as we both looked upon her beauty.

Mom made a cursory inspection of herself and fixed her eyes on Dad, I noted, avoiding my own. It was a blessing, allowing me to take in her attire unmonitored.

"What? They're just pyjamas," she dismissed my father's observation. But were they? Her legs bare, her groin was barely covered by light pink satin shorts. Clinging hermetically to her pubic mound, splits up the side and even revealing the lower half of her buttocks, it was clear she wasn't wearing underwear beneath. A matching cami had her breasts straining against the material, her nipples pronounced.

Even in the dim light of the living room I could see she was blushing and I turned my focus back on the television in a bid to relieve her potential discomfort.

"I haven't seen you wear those in twenty years!" Dad compounded his interrogation and I registered the information. Was she wearing it for me?

"Oh God Marvin, it's not a big deal!" Mom threw back embarrassed and I could hear the agitation in her voice as she hurried from the room.

"Whoops," Dad laughed to himself, looking at me. "Thought I was going to get lucky there for a minute. I may've blown it."

Dad talking about his sex life turned my stomach and I grunted to acknowledge his banter but my mind was on my mother. Had she worn it for me? There was no need to change the sheets, nor for that matter to mention it. Had she come in merely to allow me to see her? Was she waiting for me in my bedroom?

"Well I might call it a night as well," I stated, yawning to emphasise the point. Dad unfortunately decided to agree and as I stepped into the hall I noticed Mom's door closed, my own room empty. Of course it was you idiot, I told myself. She's your mother. Not some relationship breakdown rebound lay. I berated myself for thinking such thoughts, for even looking at her body in the way I had. But even so, as much as I told myself everything was in my head, I slept naked. Just in case.

*

I was dejected as I left my room in the morning. Totally without cause of course. What had I been expecting? That she'd enter my room, my bed in the night and we'd fuck? After twenty eight years she discovered her son was the only man that could satisfy her? I almost laughed out loud at the absurdity of my fantasy as I entered the kitchen. And then I saw her.

Dad was seated at the breakfast table reading the newspaper and looked over the rim of his glasses at me as I entered but it wasn't him my attention was drawn to. In the adjacent living room my mother was in mid yoga pose before an instructional video playing on the television.

"Here's sleeping beauty," my father acknowledged my arrival and Mom turned her head to smile a good morning. I was lucky to have seen it; my eyes struggling to lift from her ass. Shooting back as her face turned away to take in the sight. Pantyhose. White pantyhose. I thought I was imagining. That they were yoga pants; obscenely thin, but yoga pants all the same. No. Her feet were covered. My mother was doing yoga in pantyhose. And unless there was a thong that as yet remained obscured by her luscious bum cheeks, she wasn't wearing underwear.

"Did you sleep well Darling?" She asked as I tried to concentrate on making myself a bowl of cereal.

"What? Oh yeah. Weird being in a single bed again though," I confided. "Took me ages to fall asleep."

"You probably just needed Mommy to tuck you in and give you a goodnight kiss!" Dad joked and he wasn't far from the truth.

I took my bowl to the far side of the table, the opposite of where I would sit when I was living at home. The position would give me the best view of my mother and my father noticed immediately.