Author's Note: This story is not a simple happy incest story, so, at the risk of spoiling things, please bear the following in mind when deciding if you want to read it. 1) This is more of a taboo story than an incest story -- there is no actual blood-relation sex in it, so go elsewhere if that's what you are looking for. 2) People can and do say no to things that they might say yes to in other stories on this board. 3) I wrote two endings to this, a 'blue' ending and a 'yellow' ending. I went with the 'yellow' ending in the end as I thought it fit the characters and mood better, though it should be fairly obvious what the 'blue' ending was when you get there. 4) I'm currently planning a full incest based story, so it's not something I'm against, this story just ended up being different. With all the said, enjoy and please comment and rate.
1.
"It's not as easy to find a girlfriend as you think," Paul found himself saying. He'd had a bet with his sister that their mother would ask about his love-life in the car on the way to the restaurant. Technically his sister had won; the question had only come as they were stepping into the restaurant, but only because the current state of his hair had warranted a fifteen-minute monologue. He would have to maintain later, out of pure sibling rivalry, that the hair and dating were part of the same conversation, his mother having clearly alluded to the positive results a smart haircut could bring in her non-stop harangue. He'd still have to pay up though because in the end it was the yes or no question they'd agreed on. In answering this inevitable question, he usually tried to bend a 'not really' into a 'almost yes', but this time he'd had no option except to shamefully go with a flat 'no'. That never ended well with her.
"Table for three, Richards, we booked a room," his mother. They'd booked the best Chinese restaurant in Grimsby for her birthday. The manager confirmed the booking and indicated for a waitress to show them the way. Paul was relieved, a table for three meant no fucking Roy. His mother knew he refuse to eat with any of her boyfriends, Roy most of all, but he'd still been worried that she'd try to make an issue out of it and invite Roy anyway. It wouldn't have been the first time. She was still lambing it up though, even for a birthday meal with her children: low cut top, leather skirt, red heels, all the mutton was on display. He hated the way she dressed these days, not least of all because it reminded him of how she had become a completely different person after the divorce.
"Well, Marcy never has any problems finding a man. Quite the opposite, in fact. She needs to thin the herd down a little if you ask me" she said.
Now it was Marcy's turn to roll her eyes. Paul would have welcomed her calling out their mother's hypocrisy, but she didn't respond further. Probably smart, as it would go easier on her if the conversation remained on her brother's lack of notches rather than counting up which of the mother-daughter pair had the most themselves.
"Mum, it's different for girls," Paul continued, "With all the modern dating apps, its fairly easy for a girl to get a date if they're not too worried about commitment. It's not so easy for guys. At least the average ones like me."
As they climbed the restaurant stairs, Marcy looked back at him. "Don't tell me you've been on those incel websites?"
"I don't know what that is," his mother interrupted, "Are those the dirty ones?". Paul noticed that waitress was trying to supress a laugh. He'd kind of been hoping she only spoke Chinese. Damn, he thought, why do my female relatives always have to do this to me in public.
"I'm not an incel," he said and then, because he could feel the response already on his sister's tongue. "Ok, well maybe I am technically involuntarily celibate, but I'm not saying I hate women, I'm just saying it's more difficult for men."
The waitress showed them into a small side room. Thank God, thought Paul, at least now my humiliation can continue privately. He was paying for this meal and he'd insisted on getting the private room. Ostensibly because it was his mother's birthday and he wanted to push the boat out, but mainly because he'd eaten with his mother before and didn't want his humiliation to become the usual freak-show for the rest of the room.
"You always overthink things," his mother said. "I bet you'd have a girl in no time with a bit of effort." She turned to look at the waitress and checked her name tag. "Now, Lisa, here, let me ask you a question. If my son came up to you in a bar and asked to buy you a drink, you'd say yes wouldn't you? I mean, if he smartened himself up and had a bit of confidence."
"Maybe, sure" the waitress said with a giggle. Paul hadn't really looked at her properly when they came in. The restaurant tended to dress their employees the same and, while they were mostly thin, attractive, university-age girls they did become a bit interchangeable as a result. They all wore the traditional figure hugging black Cheongsam dress and had their long hair tied up neatly in a bun. Now that she was smiling, he realized that she was very pretty. She had a round, slightly chubby face but was still quite petite, except for her breasts which were large relative to her frame.
"Mum, don't put her on the spot. This is a classy restaurant," Paul found himself saying. He never knew how to interpret the various smiles he got from girls: flirting, teasing, pity, disgust. He was pretty sure they were mostly disgust. She was only agreeing because his mother was pretty difficult to say no to, especially if you were in a service position, surely.
"See, this is why. You get an opening, immediately you try to slam it shot. You could have a phone number and a date for the cinema by now with a bit of gumption," his mother continued. Marcy pulled out her phone and started checking it intensely. Nice, leaving me out to dry, thought Paul.
"Mum, I'm not hitting on the staff during your birthday meal," he said.
"I don't know why. You finally getting a girl would be the best present a mother could have. Well, the best present would be wedding bells, no, a pram with a grandchild in it. Huh, a mother can dream. To think, by the time we're were your age, Trevor and I were married, had Marcy and you were well on the way. I've got to pin all my hopes on Marcy, though with the kind of men she's been dating, I'm likely to get the pram before the bells. Heaven knows."
Marcy hadn't responded to the speech except to start to type faster. She got what she was looking for just in time. "Wong Kar-wai retrospective at the Odeon tomorrow night," she said. "In the Mood for Love," she said in an annoying sing-song voice.
"I don't know what that is," said their mother automatically. She didn't like things she didn't know about. They stopped her dominating the conversation.
