'Be home late,' Carmen glanced once more at the scrawled note stuck to the front of the fridge as she passed through the kitchen. She'd been disappointed that they'd again not be sharing an evening meal. They so rarely did these days, she pondered. It had been different once. When her husband was still alive. Every night without fail the family would dine together. Happy; in conversation. Vince had gone off the rails post his father's death. Minor run-ins with the law. Dabbling with drugs. But he'd promised that was behind him. He had a job, was avoiding the so-called friends that had been nothing but a bad influence. If only he could get a stable girlfriend, Carmen thought. Maybe that would settle his restless spirit?
She poured the last of the Shiraz into her glass and was surprised to see it empty, taking the bottle and placing it beside the backdoor for recycling. Catching her reflection in the glass of the door, the sight took her by surprise and she looked down at herself as she went back to her wine. It hadn't been a consciously planned decision to wear the nightie. A shower after work and seeing she'd have the house to herself, her attention was drawn to the rarely opened bottom drawer of her dresser and one of her more feminine garments. Just to feel a little special, she'd reasoned.
Her nipples had hardened when they contacted the lace of the bust. A slipperiness between her legs when she ran her hands down the white satin. She'd almost foregone panties altogether but seeing the dark shadow of her pubic hair through the thin material deemed it necessary to regain some modesty. A quick dinner alone and the bottle had seemingly opened itself. That she was now draining the last of the glass as she stood by herself in the starkly lit kitchen, probably shouldn't have come as that much of a surprise she figured.
*
Vince watched his mother through the glass of the back door place a bottle in the recycling. He had to go in, she'd most likely heard his car pull up. She'd be wondering what was taking him so long? Through the front door, he contemplated? No. That would be too out of the blue. She'd suspect he was up to something nefarious. The wrapped package of marijuana now seemed heavy in his hand; too large to fit in any of his pockets, he quickly adopted the next best option and placed it down the front of his pants as he unlocked the rear door of the house.
Carmen jumped when she heard the door open just as she'd rinsed out her wine glass and placed it on the drying tray. She'd not heard his car so the sudden appearance of her son was shocking but definitely not unwelcome.
"Hey Mom," Vince acknowledged her as he tried to make his way quickly across the kitchen toward the hallway.
Carmen turned to watch his progress, too quickly and her head spun under the influence of the wine, reaching behind to catch and steady herself against the sink.
"What, in a hurry for the toilet?" She enquired.
"No," Vince answered and immediately regretted it, not wanting to face her.
"Well sstop and talk to me, we never see each other," she slurred and blushed at her obvious inebriation. "Sit down I'll make us a hot chocolate," she quickly added pretending not to be drunk and giving her the ability to look away from her son, to hide her red face. And also to momentarily hide her body. She looked at the front of her nightie as she gripped the sink, the lace across her breasts, her nipples clearly visible. The robe she'd taken out and thrown on her bed now seemed so far away. Own it, she told herself. He's your son, he doesn't care what you're wearing. No matter how provocative.
'Sit,' Vince repeated in his head. She'd inadvertently thrown him a lifeline. Beneath the security of the table she'd have no idea what he was hiding in his pants and without looking over his shoulder, slinked sideways to ease onto a chair. Only then did he stare directly at her and register what in fact she wore.
He'd seen her in less. He guessed. At the pool obviously. But then there were always others around. Other women for him to concentrate on. Here and now his full attention was devoted to his mother. He didn't recognise the nightie, if that was in fact what it was called? Because as he took her in, the white satin taut across her back and buttocks, barely reaching her upper thighs, the term lingerie came to mind. Even more so when she turned and his eyes lazily crept up from her waist to her breasts. They're her nipples! I can see my mother's nipples, he marvelled.
"So how was work?" Carmen tried to make conversation as she steadied herself and looked at her son. Seated at the table, did his eyes at the last moment creep up from her breasts, she wondered?
"Work?"
"Yes. Isn't that why you were late. Working back?"
"Oh," Vince felt his cheeks blushing at the real reason for his absence and hoped she wouldn't see through the lie. "Yeah, work. It was good."
Oh my god, Carmen thought. He's blushing because he WAS looking at my breasts. Was it true what Barbara had said, all men do secretly want to sleep with their mothers? She headed to the fridge, aware that his eyes were on her and removed the milk. Was it a conscious decision to accentuate her ass as she did so, bending forward maybe a little too much, she pondered?
Vince watched his mother move from the fridge across to the stove. He hadn't needed to see her with the wine bottle to know she'd been drinking, her speech was enough to give the game away, but her movement was the clincher. The way she'd needed to hold onto the fridge door as she removed the milk, bending forward awkwardly. She obviously had no idea the action had revealed the transparent material hugging the curve of her buttocks, the cream colored gusset. On any other woman, under any other circumstances it would've been hot. At present, with the package of marijuana weighing heavily on his mind and in his pants, it was just making things more uncomfortable.
The hot chocolate was a good idea Carmen fathomed. She was drunker than expected and the milk would help sober her up she figured. Despite her state she was able to successfully put the milk on to heat and walked to the pantry to obtain the sugar and cocoa. Turning from the cupboard she eyed Vince, a hand beneath the table, eyes downward. Clearly manipulating himself she almost gasped at the connotations. The voice of Barbara rang in her ear. 'I'd keep an eye on that boy of yours..' Was it possible?
Her spoon found the cocoa jar empty and she headed back to the cupboard to find a refill. On the uppermost shelf she spied the unopened box and moved the two step stool into place to reach. If I climb up he'll see right under my slip, she thought and the idea excited her. He's watching me right now, she reasoned as she placed a foot on the bottom rung.
This was ridiculous, Vince thought. Why couldn't he just quickly nip into his bedroom and stash the package? His mother occupied, clearly drunk, she'd probably not even notice his absence for a few seconds anyway. He rose as she entered the pantry once more, admittedly he allowed his eyes to drift to her ass as she lifted a foot onto the stool, wondering if her bottom had always looked so good?
Carmen heard the chair move behind her. Oh god he's coming, she imagined. She rose onto the second rung and pictured what he could see from behind. Can he see my panties? She wondered. Suddenly, unbelievably she wished she'd indeed not worn them to begin with, the thought making her lightheaded.
Vince kept an eye on her as he quickly crossed the room, the back of her creamy thighs as she rose onto the second rung and then her obvious unbalance. Was she about to fall?
Carmen retained a hold on the shelf before her as her head swum with images of Vincent, the magazine cover, the talk of incest and then she felt it, the strong hands on her hips.
It was a split second decision to go to her. To momentarily forget the contraband and prevent a possible accident. "Careful Mom," he suggested as his hands gripped her sides, the satin silky beneath his fingers, her flesh warm. "You almost fell."
Carmen's breath was taken away at his touch. She dropped a hand upon his own for reassurance as she felt him coax her backwards off the stool, wishing he'd circle them around her body to touch her sex, her breasts.
"Oh," she sighed as once again her feet hit the floor. "I guess I've had more than I thought," she stated as she turned to face her son, disappointed his touch no longer remained.
So close they stood together in the confines of the walk-in pantry. She could feel the heat of his body, the presence of his absent hands lingering.
"I'll get it," Vince proclaimed, rising up onto the bottom rung. "Was it the cocoa?"
Carmen barely heard the question. Her mind, her eyes were elsewhere. As her son stood up on the top of the step-ladder, his groin came level with her face and she saw it. The evidence. Unmistakable. His affection, his desire, there for her to see. And didn't it look impressive. The bulge pressing out the front of his jeans. His hardness a declaration of his love for her, of a son for his mother.
"Oh god it's true!" Carmen finally exhaled.
