"Aaron, cum for me."
Aaron Mathews awoke in the dead of night, hearing those very words. Yet for all his recollection, he couldn't say for certain if he had heard them in his dreams or the real waking world. The voice had been so familiar, but try as he might, he couldn't place it. Whether a dream or not, his body was alight with passion. His lungs burning as if they had been laboring for breath.
What the hell is going on?
He pushed himself upright, sweat clinging to him as he fumbled in the dark with a blind hand. He knew they were there, somewhere. He stretched further feeling his fingers brush against the cold familiar frames of his glasses. Rubbing his eyes, he put them on, finding little clarity in the dark space. Beside him, the green blur of his clock read 2:16am.
His eyes scanned the room, still trying to make sense of his surroundings. Only two weeks prior he had been in what was his apartment, and now he was back in the room he'd grown up in, though he hadn't slept in it for over three years. Very little had changed in that time. Same windows, same outlets, same arrangement of the furniture. Everything that had made it his was gone, or had yet to be put back again. His cardboard boxes of belongings sat in the shadows, still waiting. It was all so familiar, but at the same time, late at night, stumbling in the dark, it felt rather unsettling.
Anxious blood still hammered through his veins as he laid back down, sinking into the mattress. His eyes searched the ceiling as bits of his dream fell back into place. Images of lips and flesh, sweat and oil, moaning, grunting, gripping and pulling drifted around in an incoherent swirl. It had seemed so sudden: an incongruous shift from a desperate run through the forest one moment to the most primal sexual dream of his life. There was a woman; a woman without a name who suddenly was everything. Just he and she and their carnal activities. It had all been so passionate and drenched in need that not a word was said until the end, when the words "Aaron, cum for me," slipped from her mouth. Her voice was what awoke him, but he couldn't say why.
His hand had already found his erection, still rigid from the dream only a minute ago. Unconsciously he was already massaging it, stroking it until he was swept up in a more conscious state of arousal. Had he not been so lost in his private moments of bliss, he might have noticed that carried on the breeze as it drifted through his open window were the moans of his mother; her fingers slipping deep inside her vagina as she whimpered his name in ecstasy.
The night slowly turned to dawn and both parties woke, naturally this time, and went about their morning routine. They shared breakfast, though brief, before Aaron excused himself to get ready for class.
"Will you be home for dinner?" Claire, Aaron's mother, asked as she lightly blew on her steaming hot coffee. Her free hand held her robe closed as she looked at her son.
"Probably," he replied while opening the fridge. "My last class gets out at seven if that's not too late." He tried not to note how her robe hugged the curve of her hips and swell of her breasts.
"Fine by me." She set her cup down. "Aaron, you've been back for four weeks now, right?"
He nodded, biting into a large, red apple. "Some people would call it a month, but yeah that's about right," he mumbled.
She smirked at her son. "Thanks Smartass," she said while shaking her head, "You realize you've been a homebody the entire time?"
"So?"
"So," she continued, "Shouldn't you be out with your friends or meeting girls in a bar or something?"
"You mean like dating?" He took another bite.
"Well, yes."
Aaron tossed the core in the trash. "Mom, I can't get back into dating right now."
"Why not?"
"Seriously?" he asked. She responded with a blank look.
Aaron shrugged. "Okay, well for starters, I'm in my early twenties and living with my mother. Some girls find that a turn-off - I'm just saying."
"Oh that's not a big deal. Times are tough for everyone. I'm sure tons of people have had to move back home." She slurped her coffee. "Besides, the
right
girl wouldn't care about something like that. What else you got?"
He shifted. "Aren't you concerned it would interfere with school?"
She thought for a moment. "Honestly, I have my doubts. You're getting a degree in English Writing and your mother is a nationally renowned author." She winked. "Sounds to me like you've got an advantage, really?"
Aaron raised an eyebrow. "How's that supposed to help with Calculus?"
"Mm!" she moaned as she swallowed a large sip. "You've got a point there." She licked the coffee from her lips as she turned to the sink, pouring the remainder down the drain.
Aaron watched her rinse the mug. "You know... I could say the same for you."
"What's that?" she asked over the sound of the running water.
He took a breath. "Dad's been gone for over five years," he said. "Have you dated at all during that time?"
Claire cleared her throat. "Don't worry 'bout me. I've sowed my oats." She scrubbed at the mug, at the same spot over-and-over with her bare hands. "Besides, I've got my writing. It's the last chapter, you know."
"And when it's done?"
She hesitated. "Then I'll start the next book."
Aaron stared at her back as she continued to clean the mug. "Sure Mom. And the world will keep on spinning..." Aaron turned and ran up the stairs.
His mother's voice followed after him saying, "Bestsellers don't come easy!" He couldn't help but smile.
That evening they had their dinner: a nice lasagna, homemade and delicious. Aaron produced a bottle of wine he had picked up on his way back, and they dined royally. Then, with full bellies and a bit tipsy, they shifted to the living room, leaving the plates on the table and the kitchen in shambles.
Although he had been there for weeks now, this was the first time they had really sat down and talked; enjoying each others' company for what it really was. Had anyone walked by they would have thought that this was a conversation between two long-lost friends and not mother and son. Laughter filled the air as Aaron shared his recent exploits. For Claire, the past few years had been far less eventful, yet she'd been busy in her own way.
Five months after the divorce, Claire had turned to a passion she had not explored since college. She began to write with a fury she had never previously possessed. She would show her stories to her friends every now and again until one of them dared her to seek publication. As luck would have it, the story was accepted, published, and distributed across the nation almost immediately. The public latched on to her writings and she became a major hit. Her name was heard in tea parties and talk shows from San Diego to London. After a year of her success Aaron left home knowing she would do well enough on her own.
Three years later, Claire released her gem;
His Fiery Touch
. It held the #1 Bestseller spot for a month straight and was on the Top Ten for four months after, thus fueling the crazed demand for her work. Her fans were devoted, sending only desperate pleas to release the next in the series; but for the first time there was a lengthy hiatus. Whether it was due to writer's block or just doubt, no one could say. Claire had been working on the 'last chapter' for the better part of a year. Aaron knew better than to bring it up.
