I Am Timothy: Your...

"No, you're not Timothy; it's illegal!" mom said.

I hadn't known women could turn so fast. Nor had I realized mom was so strong, I was lying on my back, mom half on top of me. The look she was giving me was terror, there was hope there too, and begging. I tried to figure out what all these emotions were, I could understand the fear. The begging I could not. The tears in her eyes were a physical pain to see. I nearly dropped it just to kiss her and let her relax. It was just not in me, I had started this with words whispered in her ear. I knew it was true, I knew she had needed to know, and that I had needed to say them.

"It's legal until you get boarded..." I said quoting what every sea captain said about any side fiddle.

"Tim..." she said, her tears were very close, in her voice and in her eyes.

Somehow in turning both of us she had maneuvered her arms under my embrace and now had her forearms just under my collar bones. Disappointingly that lifted her breasts away from my body. I wondered if women learned how to turn a guy on and off or whether it was a hyper instinct like birds migrating.

"Who knows mom? Grandad, he won't be saying anything, he just wants to know the score and will accept it. Grandma? I don't know her but I don't think she wants her daughter and grandson in prison. The insurance company? They don't care. They want their money and can't get it if I go to prison. The charter license belongs to me and I must be in the Azores for three weeks a year to keep it. My father and Maria? They are not going to score anything by talking, I can send them to prison in Morocco. There is an extradition treaty. Everybody else thinks your son died in a plane crash, Grandad could not let the truth be known until now. Me? I fought too hard to get here to lose it all. You? You tell me."

"People will talk."

"What are they going to say? Either I'm weird, we know I am. Or they are going to wonder how much you're paying me to be a toy boy. Mom, you can still get pregnant, I am not going to leave my children to the type of crap I went through."

"Is that why you said it? You're worried that I'm pregnant? Relax about that sonny. It's the wrong time of my cycle to get pregnant!" she said.

She was upset. I cursed how fast women could change emotions. I had seen similar crap with female crew members, passengers, Maria, practically every woman I had ever known went through emotions at random. Then there was the fold where her ass met her hamstrings. I was running my fingers along those lines now. It was so distracting! I just wanted to turn us around and screw her again as I felt her soft skin. I took a deep breath and tried again thinking of how beautiful pregnant women were to me.

"I want you to have a baby again mom. You never got to see me grow up and you need that. You were brilliant mom. I need to have a baby, I went through hell and had no home. That was how I got to be a sea captain at seventeen. I need a home mom. I do not want my kids growing up like I did. I need to come home. I need to know there is a reason to come home... Mom, this was a year of effort; it was not just an easy screw. Shit mom, do you know how awesome I think you are?"

"Timothy... I stayed single because I was scared."

"I can understand that. Pregnant at fifteen, and then my father... Grandad and grandma did you no favors with forcing him to stay with you."

"It was complicated... His family had a lot of business with ours, he was the son of a senator...to send him to prison would have cost both families. They were catholic. By the time you were five everything had changed. His father was not in politics anymore, the business we did, their business evaporated when there was nobody in politics to pull strings and they went bust. His dad is still alive."

I could feel mom relaxing. She had moved her arms off my upper chest and they were beside my head, her fingers in my hair. One hand was brushing hair off my forehead. Her breasts were two soft cushions on my chest. Stroking my hand up her back I could feel her stiffness evaporate. I had one more try.

"Mom? I'm scared too, right now. It's not a small thing this. But I want to know that I gave it everything; that's the way I am mom. I want you to know if it worked or not because you tried. Don't sit in the dark eighteen years from now and wonder, be afraid but take the chance with me mom."

Mom burst into tears and kissed me. I had heard lots of women talk about getting mixed signals from guys. I had no idea what this was. I kissed back though. She broke off to breathe and sniffed in my ear before speaking softly.

"Beautiful Tim, there is so much you need to learn... so much you don't know about me... when you are in your prime I'll be old. And young girls will offer themselves to you and you'll resent me, and take one, and be upset that you have to run home to me." she cried softly.

"Mom? Teach me then, tell me when you need to. And you find the girlfriend and keep her at home if you see me looking for one. We can work it out mom, it starts with one decision. Everything starts with a decision. I have decided to love you, to come home to you, all you need to decide is if you want to be the home I come to and love me."

That started the pumps. She burst into more tears and howled. She nearly broke my neck as she hugged me and pulled herself up my body until she was holding my head between her breasts. She rolled us onto her back and rocked me from side to side. I was nearly suffocating, there was just no way of getting her to let me breathe.

"Yes, yes, oh god help me, yes Timothy. I will love you. I will love you to death."

I hoped that wouldn't happen in the next few minutes. Luckily she let go when she realized I couldn't breathe. I hugged her back and kissed her while she laughed and cried and wiped tears from her eyes. She looked at me; relief and delight in her face mixed with uncertainty of what to do now. Peace was in her eyes too, the first time I saw her just simply happy and at peace. It was amazingly beautiful, she was radiant.

I know everybody thinks that an eighteen year old, with a beautiful woman under him, would be screwing his brains out next. I wasn't any eighteen year old. I had been operating on four to five hours of sleep a night for three weeks and that was presenting a bill for immediate payment. Yes I did at least have an erection. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.

Mom was fantastic at understanding as she noted the shadows under my eyes. She went all nurse and made me go to bed; just for clarity we went her bed. She was right, pillows to rest my head on were a huge improvement and sheets made a large difference to rough knee blankets.

"What voyage did you have the most fun on?" Mom asked while I shaved her legs.

We were bathing together, I needed a shave and my kit was still in the Bronco so I had used her grooming kit to her amusement. I was now shaving her legs to her utter delight and fascination. I was loving this, it was what I imagined love to be; showing care by taking care of each other.

"The last one before I came here. I have tons of blackmail material from that one if I really need. It was a BDSM community having a package fantasy holiday. We picked them up in Fort Lauderdale and sailed to the Azores. Things got fun just out of port, they thought a whipping on the forecastle was a good idea. We hit a high swell head on just as the dominant wanted to take his first swing... the only passenger who was safe was the one restrained to the rail, she saw the wave coming. She still shouted Wave! Everybody waved and looked for the camera; then got knocked on their asses."

"No!" Mom said with a smile.

"Poor woman was tied to that rail for three hours as the rising sea kept hitting her in the face. I think she was well disciplined to listen to the captain. I had advised against it, she had insisted, when I eventually got round to untying her she was very obedient."

Mom giggled at that.

"Then there was the sight of a fifty year old man, way overweight, six foot four, in a French maid's outfit complete with stiletto heels trying to carry a tray to serve his mistress tea. On a pitching deck? It was never going to end well."

Mom had wide eyes as I told her about the voyage of twenty couples who had not thought the scene through before going for it. The dominants who lost several thousand dollars of whips and leather clothing because they had not considered what salt water spray and tropical temperatures did to designer leather. Then there was the tensions as they could not get away from each other and the dominants eventually having a food fight on the last morning.

She was laughing at the descriptions of a passenger's talk about rope bondage when the one being tied up in a karada lost her balance and it finished with the dominant being tied up along with her in a heap on the dance floor. Her jaw dropped at the complete lack of planning in a suspension play that turned into a trapeze act as the dominant tried to control the swing on a ship that was pitching and rolling. He got too close and got knocked out when the guy being suspended panicked and kicked.

"Aren't you going to get sued?" she asked laughing.

"Unlikely. They signed indemnity forms and that ship has a very good CCTV system and superb access control. If they sue all that goes into court records and becomes public domain. Then the whole world can see who slept with who and have a good laugh at the stupidity. Additionally grandad knows some of the people involved. Part of why it took so long was that we put a takeover management team together and they knew about the trip because they were shadowing the company's moves, this was so that there would be no surprises now."

"Do you like my bush Tim?" Mom asked suddenly.

I was puzzled, she saw and pointed down to her pubic hair. She hadn't shaved it or done anything much in a long time. I hadn't ever really thought about it.

"I think you should feel your best mom. I saw a few girls on that trip with clean pubes, it looked like a pedophilic fantasy to me. I always thought that the women who could stand around in a bikini, with hair there but not sticking out past the bottom were really stylish."

"Go for it!" mom said standing up.

I got the pair of scissors and trimmed the hair. Yes! I did kiss... alright more that little tender kisses. I like her taste! Happy? It was not entirely well thought out, I mean a slippery bath and; well I nearly drowned but we had fun. Mom and I were actually laughing as we lay in the bath together deciding that a shower was probably in order to get the hair stubble off us.

"One thing I actually was damn interested in on that trip was the submissive guys. They all had clean shaven pubes. I have no idea why, but I am curious what that feels like."

"It's better for wearing chastity cages Tim. Did you see those?"

"Oh yes. I suppose that makes sense. No hair to pull, you see what is going on more easily and treat more quickly... I had to do a lot of reading before that trip." I said while mom started the shower and I washed the bath.

"Really?"

"Yes, I like to know what I'm dealing with if it's something special like that trip. I also read up before going to new places. It's not just for information about sea conditions, passengers will corner me and expect me to tell them things about the island or city. So I read about archeology and history too, what the entertainment is, what the prices are, anything remarkable. There is always something interesting or curious or remarkable."

Mom looked at me with surprise. She had not realized I was interested in more than ships and shipping. We got into the shower and quickly rinsed off. Mom surprised me when she showed me the closet in the guest bedroom. She had bought me clothes. I had once given her my sizes and she had gone shopping a few times.

"I would walk through the stores thinking about you, how you would look in this or that. I often thought about you on your tropical island coming here in winter. I am your mother too you know. I worried!"

"Mom, you're brilliant, you're fantastic; you are an awesome mom." I said holding her and kissing her gently.

She just stood in my arms relaxing as we had a quiet moment. Then she remembered that we needed to go to grandma and grandad for lunch. I wandered into her room while she was putting makeup on. She had been right about me getting cold easily and I was well padded for mid-December in North Carolina. She had been right about what I preferred to wear too. I liked long coats rather than jackets and woolen jerseys rather than fleece lined hoodies or wind breakers. Her breath caught as she saw me in the mirror asking how I looked.

"Damn Tim, you look good!" she said.

I was standing behind her in jeans, with nice leather boots, my shirt was a long sleeved lounge shirt, I had I cream turtle neck jersey over that and a black jacket that came to down to my knees. She stood up and tidied my hair a bit.

"I need to get a haircut." I said more to say something that any real irritation.

"Yes you do. Long hair does not suit you." She said.

She didn't stop. She was just loving the time and having someone to take care of. I reminded her about her makeup and brushed her hair as she finished. I was very interested in her putting makeup on. She saw me interested and smiled in the mirror.

"You're interested in everything! Let me guess, you're going to read about putting makeup on now?"

"Why mom? I can just ask you, you know what you're doing. I wonder what it feels like though. Few people actually think of writing about that and feelings are individual. I wonder what many things feel like." I said.

Once again her jaw dropped. I was currently enjoying the feel of her hair, very different to mine. Her hair was silky, and fine and straight. Having it slide through the brush soundlessly and flow over my fingers was an indescribable sensation of luxury. She shook her head slightly at her strange son and the man who loved her as she finished her makeup.

Grandad answered the door, had mom not warned me I would have laughed. He was dressed in a pink outfit with petticoats and girly white lace up boots to just below his knees. He basically looked like a nineteenth century southern belle, or at least what Mattel would have us believe they looked like. This explained a lot about why litigation and any other issues from the very embarrassing BDSM voyage was being handled by him personally.

"Hello Philippa. Thank you." Mom said to grandad and kissed his cheek hello.

I barely hesitated as I also kissed grandad on the cheek to say hello. Grandad smiled at me in relief that there was no judgement in how I handled him. He showed us into the lounge and offered drinks. Mom asked for a red wine and I decided on sherry to everybody's surprise. I was most interested in grandma's reaction though.

It was the first time I had seen her in thirteen years and she was clearly in charge here. She was dressed in a long woolen skirt, good walking shoes, and a good jersey; all in natural colors and obviously high quality. She stood straight and that made her look taller than she was. Her shoulders were back, pronouncing her breasts. Her eyes were highly intelligent, and her steel grey hair neatly done. In all I saw a rare woman, and mom in twenty years.

Grandma was proud of being a woman, quite comfortable with admiring stares from men too. She was at peace with who she was and was not ashamed of being the sexual creature; she was a fundamentally happy being. She clearly spent a lot of time studying people and had picked up what the situation between mom and I was in a second. Her surprise at my choice of drink barely showed, she was adept at not showing what she thought.

As I studied her she studied me while grandad as Philippa brought the drinks. She made a decision as Philippa withdrew to go and see to lunch. I saw a recognition in her as she went to an antique writing desk against the wall and brought several files. She invited us to sit and opened the file about the DBSM trip.

"I'm dealing with this. Philip only signs the documents. What would you have done differently?" she asked.

"Everything. Late autumn is not the time for something like this. The Atlantic Ocean is the world's most turbulent ocean and never a joke. The destination was too far, there were too many couples all trying things that are fine when the room is stable, not so fine when a wall can become a floor in three seconds. I would do something like this through spring and early summer, do it over five days, not go onto high seas much, or preferably a river like the Delaware or Mississippi, or the Hudson. I would say no more than ten couples, no polyamory. Something like this is not a fantasy but an incredibly stern test of the couple because there is no getting away from each other. So it's either a relationship counseling event or a trial for a relationship."

"That is incredibly mature for an eighteen year old. What would qualify you to make that assessment about the relationships needed? Do you have any experience in BDSM?" Grandma asked.

"None. But I have seen plenty of relationships broken and made on cruises. The longer the time between stops, the better the chance that conflict will arise."

Grandma stared at me. I was used to people trying to intimidate me, I had dealt with women like grandma before. One English woman practically live on our liners, backing down to her would get her ripping into you instantly. She would easily take a crew member to bed and tear him apart if he displeased her. Grandma was the same, although less subtle. I stared straight back.

"Could you run a trip like this along the lines you just said?"

"No. You need an experienced BDSM hand to skipper a vessel devoted to it. This is no different to any other specialized marine operation. Salvage or archeological ships are all skippered by experienced archeologists and divers for example."

"Would you consider hosting such a service within the charter company?"

"Sure. But it has to be a regular thing, not a once off event or even an annual one. There is no point getting a ship, getting it trimmed, a skipper, a crew who can keep their mouths shut, and all the logistics in place for something that happens only once."

Grandma nodded. The reason the company had accepted that charter was because the passengers had said they would supply their own apparatus. They had not included medical supplies. She put that file aside and open the next. A business plan from takeover for the charter company.

"Mom! This is supposed to be a family lunch! Not a business review grilling. He's your grandson! Not some junior director busy screwing up!" Mom burst out.

"Mom, this is grandma getting to know me. All she has are the business plan, reports of what I did, and an impression from grandad. She is using what she has to get to know me as fast as she can."

Grandma sat back and smiled at me in delight.

"Philip said you were sharp! He was way off. You're damn sharp Timothy. Damn tough too. A word of advice though? Never call her mom again. She is your lover, wife, whatever. Call her mom and kiss her in public and there will immediately be trouble."

"You don't mind?" Mom asked.

"Why would I mind Vivienne? From everything I have about Timothy, including some stuff that he did not tell anybody about in setting this business venture up; he is a wonderful man for you. Timothy is it true that you smuggled birth control pills into catholic countries?"

"No comment grandma." I replied.

"Wise! Tell me about that ship with which you ran rings around the Coast guard and the Navy!" She said and laughed.

"I did it because they were looking for a ship that would conform to modern seaworthiness specifications. Belter is seaworthy for nineteen forty. They were looking for modern radar, sonar, transponder, meteorological data access. They were listening for modern engine and screw noise watched for a ship laying over in coves and estuaries. I had none of that so according to them I was just a ship going to a breaker's yard. I made sure to stay within towing distance from another vessel and they never questioned."