That morning I was still in my nightgown, picking up my son's clothes and making his bed. As I was tucking the sheet under the mattress I noticed a bulge, I reached my hand farther under the mattress and felt a magazine. My first instinct was to leave it there, all boys have their dirty magazines and my son Alex was no different.
He was 18 years old and in his last year of high school and he seemed to finally be blossoming into a young man. He had made the varsity basketball team, after missing the cut in his junior year. He lost that adolescent glean and was beginning to act like a man, and look like a man, finally putting on a few pounds and settling in to his tall frame. He had a girlfriend, he didn't tell me much, but he would ask me for money for his dates, and I could tell that he was feeling confident, an athlete, a girlfriend, good grades. I was proud of him.
I knew I should respect his privacy, but the temptation was too much. I just had a devilish desire to see what he liked to look at, holding my breath as I pulled it out from under the mattress. I expected it to be a magazine with pictures, but is was a collection of stories, opened to one. I thought, this must be the one he reads when he masturbates. All boys do it, I'm sure he must. But now the morbidity was worse, one thing is to see pictures of naked girls, but now I was going to be given a glimpse of his fantasy world.
I couldn't resist, I propped up a pillow and lay back on his bead and began to read. The story seemed strange, all about a house and a mother that not only fit my description, but had my name, Carmen. When I realized what was happening in the story my mouth opened and my eyes bulged, this couldn't be. I kept reading, graphic sex between the mother and son. My son was having fantasies about me. I had never noticed him looking at me in that way, and I had always been so careful to be dressed around him, not to fall into the trap of him becoming my 'girlfriend'. I always wanted to make sure he felt like a man.
I know his father leaving us would somehow affect him, and since we now lived in a two bedroom condo, I was sure that the close quarters was what did it. I was now 43, his father left and remarried 5 years ago. I was able to live on the alimony, child support and some income I had from family properties. Not that we were living exuberantly, but we were getting by in a nice neighborhood, but I couldn't afford a bigger condo than the one we had. He saw his father once a month, but I am afraid he was more interested in his new family than his son. Now I thought, should I talk to him about this. No. Out of the question, it would be far to embarrassing for him. And I could never mention it to his father. The answer was clear, put the magazine back where I found it and never mention it. Forget it.
I placed it back under the bed where I had found it, and finished making the bed. But I couldn't stop thinking about the story. I looked at myself in the mirror on the closet across from his bed. I still had a very good figure. My strong points were my legs, shapely, a little shakier around the thighs than when I was 25, but still very good, my butt, which was still firm, and large breasts. I had worked hard to avoid getting a tummy. My dark hair was cut short, and I fought off the wrinkles spending a fortune on creams. I knew I was still very attractive, young men eyed me and turned to looked at me when I passed. The women in the story was dark, also with large breasts.
I had been silly really. I could have found a wealthy man, someone who would really appreciate me. But no, I had just finished a two year affair with a married university professor I met at some classes I was taking at the university. At my age what lay ahead. I was still attractive, but for how much longer. A chill ran through me, the idea of loneliness scared me. So he was looking at me, my son was lusting after me. My god. I had never heard of such a thing. I took a long shower and there was no way to get the idea out of my head. I would go shopping. That always helped.
I bought an above the knee skirt and dark blue silk blouse. And, on a whim, I went in the lingerie store and bought a set of very sexy black lace panties and bra, and a silk nightgown, thigh length with a lot of cleavage. Sitting in the restaurant, having a salad with glass of wine, I wondered why I had done it. For a moment I thought maybe I wanted to tease him a little, just for fun. No, that couldn't be it.
Nevertheless, at the grocery store I bought a really good bottle of wine, and the ingredients for a delicious meal, a special meal. What was I doing? I was almost afraid to think about it. Once I got home I opened a bottle of wine and began cooking, enjoying the buzz from the wine with the creativity of cooking. I set the table with our good china and decided to get ready. But I thought, get ready for what? The wine had given me the courage to realize what I was doing. I accepted the fact that I was intrigued by his interest in me, and I wanted to see if it was for real, or if it was just a story he liked that had nothing to do with reality.
I was excited, gitty. The first time since the beginning of my relationship with the professor. I shouldn't do this, I thought. I looked into the mirror as I made myself up, and for a moment I said. NO. I can't do this. But it was fun. And I needed some fun. I took another sip of wine and kept going. I put on the new panties and bra, the new skirt and blouse, my Calvin Klein perfume, and, for the final touch, heels. I looked in the mirror. I looked very good. I opened another button on the blouse, revealing the slightest bit of cleavage and a sliver of the black lace from the bra, something I rarely did. Something he would notice. I grinned into the mirror. He would be home any minute.
It was 7.05PM, he was usually home at 7.00PM. I was nervous, as if I were going on a first date. I couldn't believe this, I was anxiously waiting for him to open the door. Finally the key in the door. 'Hi Mom.'
