Sometimes, making love is exactly the right thing for the blues. That was so very true the day I spent with my mother.
My last year of college had been quite rocky for the romance side of my life, far different from the academic side. First Bob dumped me after four months of non-stop physical activity, and then Katlin did the same. I struggled though finals and graduated near the top of my class.
The road to the farm was just beyond the large cornfield separating Mom's house from Uncle Frank's farm. Frank was her brother and had been one of my first lovers. I don't think anyone knew he was, or still is. Being with him did not seem to be what I wanted or needed.
"Hi Molly," my mother sang out as she raced out the back door of the old farmhouse, down the two wooden steps of the screened porch then stopping beside my old beaten up pickup. She wiped her hands on the long tan apron dangling from her neck over the old blue dress loosely covering her tall lean body. Her body matched mine.
Her arms warmly enveloped my trembling body and held me close. Our embrace eased my hurt and I could feel her breath cover my ear. Her soft breast rested against mine. My face repositioned itself so my lips rested against her cheek. A tender kiss followed by, "Darling," blown against the corner of her mouth. I wanted more. "It is my mother," I told myself, unsure of so much. The embrace continued and I felt my moisture build.
Her lips covered mine first - just a kiss, not much more. "Come in out of this heat." Her hand led me and I followed. "Let me make it all better."
In the kitchen, she pointed at the round oak table with claw feet that had been there all my childhood. "Sit and I'll pour you some coffee. We'll talk." I watched her bare legs and bare feet as she walked here and there. I found myself staring at her hips, thinking about more. "Still like it black?" I nodded and leaned against the back of the chair, my legs parting, and my skirt riding up higher.
She sat the old ceramic mug with permanent coffee stains, the one that had been my father's before he died last year, in front of me and dragged her hands unconsciously over her crotch. "So good to see you again." It had only been a few months, but she made it seem more like years. She pulled a chair out from the table so it faced mine and settled sloppily in it. Her foot reached out and rubbed against my leg then continued to slide along the underside of my calf. We smiled.
"Katlin left me." I had already told her, but didn't know what else to say now. I sipped my coffee as if I had not said anything. I watched her foot move against my leg and then my eyes stared at her chest.
She removed the apron. "Sorry to hear." A button was unfastened and her dress gapped open exposing bare skin where her bra should have been. Her foot dropped to the floor and she shifted in the chair. Her hand now rested between her knees, the hem of the dress somewhere higher along her thighs. A foot pulled back along side the chair and the knee of that leg fell leaving her slightly more exposed.
