This is the mother/son version of a set of four separate, three-part stories. All are basically the same with slightly different character relationships. "It Doesn't Count" involves a brother and sister, "A Mother's Lust" involves a mother and son, "It Doesn't Matter" involves an older woman and her daughter's young ex-boyfriend, while "It Shouldn't Matter" involves a young woman and her younger sister's ex-boyfriend. You can read any or all of them, according to your tastes, but the vast majority of all parts of all stories are the same.
-- The Author
*
Dan glanced down at his mother's slim, well manicured hand. It rested just millimeters from his, with her long, delicate fingers beside his own, on the table between plates littered with the remnants of a moderately expensive lunch. She was so close he could feel the warmth of her, but her hand wasn't touching his. He looked up into her eyes, seeing a mischievous twinkle there. She'd placed her hand there, just that way, on purpose, as a subtle reminder.
Dan had to look away. He felt a blush rising in his cheeks. A quick glance told him his mother was grinning, enjoying his discomfort. He didn't know why this was all so much easier for her. He'd thought that he was the bold one.
In their family, his mother was always the careful, considering, planning one. She bought groceries and told you to wipe your feet. She told you to look both ways before you crossed the street. She told you to always play by the rules. She never pocketed a bill that someone else had carelessly dropped. And Mom was the one that tried to make sure she had a royal flush before she made even a small bet, if she ever played poker at all.
She was a generation older than him, yes, but he was still more daring. He considered himself to be more mature, too, at least in affairs of the heart. Or, rather, especially when it came to sex. She thought he was a hound. He thought he was well traveled.
She herself had been divorced for six years. Dad had moved all the way across the country, where he didn't even bother to stay in touch. Mom hadn't even tried to date while Dan was still in high school. By the time she'd decided to try men again, after Dan was well into his first year of college, she was woefully unprepared. She didn't even really know where or how to start.
She took her hand away to reach into her purse to pay the bill. Dan felt a sudden sadness as she did so.
"Let me pay, today, Mom," Dan offered, knowing he couldn't really afford to pay for even his own meal, let alone hers, too. "Just this once."
His mother looked up at him with her wide, sea green eyes, her hand at rest in the maw of the purse. She hesitated a moment before continuing to look in it for cash.
"No, lover, I've got it."
She had never called him lover before. It sounded strange, and a little unsettling. She'd been saying things like that throughout lunch.
"No, let me, come on," Dan argued.
"It's the twenty first century, sweetie," she said, looking up at him with a smile. "Men don't have to pay for their dates anymore. Anyway, I have a job, you don't."
Dan glared at her, letting his face harden into ice.
"It's not a date, Mom."
"Whatever you say, lover," she said, smiling, as she dropped some crumpled bills onto the check on the table. "I've gotta get back to work. I'm running late."
She rose from her seat, then walked around the table to pass him on the way to the exit. As she reached him she suddenly bent down to put her broad, full mouth to his, or almost to his. She stopped with her lips just a hair's breadth away. He felt one long, warm breath caress his lips.
She made a slow, soft kissing sound, then was up and off, never having touched him. Dan watched her walk away with a motion that made him sit up straight. He felt something stirring in him. He tried his best to ignore it.
* * *
It had happened, or rather started, rather innocently. He'd stopped by to visit her at her apartment on Friday after work. They had sold the house as soon as he'd graduated from high school, both to pay for college, and to simplify his mother's life.
She was getting ready to go out for the evening with friends. He had brought some of his laundry for her to do for him, but mostly he just wanted to collect some of his CDs. He didn't have room for them all in his own cramped off campus studio, so he treated his collection at her place like a library, checking out just what he needed, when he felt like it. He looked to borrow some of hers, too, for a change.
As long as he was there, she'd said she wanted his opinion.
"Be honest. Brutally honest, if you can."
"About what?" Dan asked, not really listening, as he sorted through her collection. She had far too many slow, romantic pop albums. That stuff made his skin crawl. He'd thought she had better taste than that. At least, she did with everything other than music.
"As a guy, not as my son, just as a guy."
The way she'd phrased that made him pause. He swiveled his head to look her in the eye.
"Yes?"
"As a guy, on a scale from, say, eight to ten... am I hot?"
"Eight? Eight to ten?"
"I'm feeling fragile today. You can't go lower than eight."
Dan grunted as he turned back to selecting music. His mom always felt fragile. Or rather, she always felt insecure. He didn't know why. She was smart. She was fun. And she was a total knockout, and she knew it. Dan had spent an embarrassingly large part of his life telling his friends that no, they couldn't even fantasize about seducing her, so let it go. He'd kill them if they ever mentioned it again, which they still did every chance they got.
"Come on, Danny. Okay, have it your way, on a scale from five to ten, how hot am I?"
