On Buttons
Millie, was finally ready to close the previous chapter of her life and move forward. Her husband, Eugene, had been dead for just over a year. She had called her son, Gene, and asked him to come to the family home and help her go through her husband's study so she could use it as her home office. Eugene had left behind a large estate, which their lawyer had overseen, but now Millie felt ready to get more involved.
Millicent, Millie, to close acquaintances, was fifty-eight. A graduate of Barnard, with an MBA from Princeton, she was well educated. Millie came from money and was very well connected. It was her wealth and connections that Eugene had used to grow their fortune.
When describing her, one might think of Kate Middleton, the Princess of Wales, but ten years older. Always a classy, stunningly beautiful woman, with an air of nobility that any man would be proud to have on his arm or in his bed. Having fallen in love with Eugene as a teen, no one, except her now deceased husband, had ever had that opportunity.
Gene, their son, was an only child. He had grown up with the best opportunities and the proverbial silver spoon in his mouth. At thirty, he was still a bachelor and was successfully building his own business empire. Gene had been blessed with his parent's good looks and was leading man handsome. He was often seen at social gatherings with a beautiful young woman at his side; rarely with the same one twice. His taste in women was consistent; tall, shapely, beautiful, and brunette; much like his mother.
The family had several residences in the United States. Currently, Gene was living in the NYC penthouse. Millie, following her husband's death, had been living a quiet life at their small estate in Frisco, Texas. It was small by her standards, but still quite large in the eyes of most others. It was quiet there, which was what she had wanted and needed.
Gene arrived mid-morning on a Saturday with plans to stay for the entire week. She greeted him at the front door as he walked up with his bags.
"Hi, sweetheart. How was your trip?" she asked, giving him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
"Good. Wow! Look at you. Finally got rid of the all-black look?"
"It's been a year. That's the traditional mourning period for a widow."
"Mom, I think you're thinking of the Victorian era," her son said smiling. "You look wonderful. I don't think I've ever seen you in shorts or so tan."
"I spend a lot of time by the pool. It gets hot here."
"You wear a swimsuit in front of the servants?"
"I'd never do that. I let the servants go."
"Then who's doing the cooking and cleaning?" her son asked.
"I have a housekeeper, a groundskeeper, and a pool man, that come in once a week. Otherwise, it's just me here."
"So, you're roughing it?"
Millie chuckled. "I guess."
"Mom, you're a social creature. I can't imagine you being alone that much."
"I needed it initially, but now I enjoy it. It's nice to get up in the morning and not have someone hand you a schedule of where you need to be and what you need to do."
"I wouldn't know. That doesn't happen often," he said.
"Trust me. It's wonderful."
"Well, you look great. It seems to be working out for you."
"I feel great. Hungry? Can I get you something to drink?" she asked.
"I'm good."
"Okay. I'll be on the patio reading when you're finished putting your things away."
"Fifteen minutes, max," her son said.
*****
A short time later, Gene joined his mother on the patio. She was lounging in the shade reading.
"What would you like to do for dinner this evening?" he asked.
"Already covered. I'm cooking."
"I honestly didn't know you could cook."
"I'm no Julia Childs, but I do pretty well in the kitchen," his mother advised.
"Who is Julia Childs?"
"Never mind. She was before your time."
"So, what is it that you want me to do with dad's study?"
"Go through everything. Take what you want, and box up your father's things. I plan to turn it into my office," she said.
"Are there things you want in there?"
"I've already looked through it and kept a few mementos," she said.
"I'll start on it tomorrow."
*****
Gene was up early the following morning, and by the time his mother joined him, he had boxed up about a third of the books in the bookcases.
"I thought we could donate the books to the high school," she said, walking in and sitting in one of the leather chairs."
"Good idea. Are you keeping the furniture?"
"Too much brown leather and dark wood. I'm thinking something more modern; glass and chrome mostly," she said.
"Bookcases too?"
"I'm going to have them painted white, the walls and ceiling too. This is beautiful, but it's not me."
"No, it screams dad in here. Do you miss him?" her son asked, turning to her.
"Every day," she replied with a soft smile.
"Me too."
"May I ask a personal question?" his mother asked.
Gene stopped what he was doing and turned to her.
"Go for it," he said smiling.
She hesitated before replying.
"Before your father, the men I met were interested in two things. What was between my legs and my finances. Probably more the latter. With your father being who he was, most men wouldn't dare to approach me. Now, being widowed, I won't have that shield."
"So, what's your question?" her son asked.
"I assume you have a similar issue. You're handsome and wealthy. How do you know when someone is genuinely interested in you and not just after your bank account?"
Her son looked at her for a moment, then sat in one of the chairs facing her.
"What, specifically, are you looking for; companionship or a relationship?"
"Probably companionship. I've come to appreciate my alone time, but it would be nice to have company occasionally," she replied.
"A friend with benefits?"
"I'm not sure what that is, but it has a certain ring to it," she said sheepishly.
"It's a friend to spend time with that's also willing to go to bed with you. Is that what you're looking for?"
"Possibly, but I'm not going to hire someone for it."
Gene chuckled.
"Mom, I wish I knew where to find someone genuine. I have a couple of lady friends that I spend time with. I enjoy their company, and I think they enjoy mine. Although I don't give them money, I'm still paying them. We go places and do things on my dime. They meet people who might benefit them in the future. Essentially, they use me just like I use them. I'd love to have someone to love and spend my life with, but so far, I haven't found her. Even if I do, there would be an iron clad prenup."
"You don't sound like you think that's going to happen," she said.
"I think it's unlikely. I suspect finding something like you and dad had is a rarity."
"I think so too. Would you like some breakfast?" she asked.
"No thanks. I just do coffee in the morning."
"I'll be out by the pool doing my yoga," Millie said standing and leaving the room.
Gene went back to packing the books. A short time later he walked to the kitchen for another cup of coffee. As the Keurig sputtered and groaned he stepped to the patio door and looked outside. His eyes went wide when seeing his mother. She was wearing a tan, skintight, halter top, and matching shorts. At first, he thought she was nude. The shade of her outfit perfectly matched her beautiful tan. Although he knew she was a beauty, he had never seen her look this hot. His cock quickly began responding. As a teen he had fantasized about her many times.
"Damn," he said aloud before turning back to get his coffee.
Before returning to the study, he went back for another look. His mother stood with her feet together and back to him then bent forward touching her face to the front of her knees. The outline of her pussy through the tight shorts was obvious. Gene mentally pictured himself walking up behind her and slipping his dick in her.
'I'll be your friend with benefits,'
he thought, as he turned and headed back to the den.
It was about an hour later when he found a small notebook hidden behind other books. The cover read, '
Notes from life.
' Gene opened it and began reading. It was more like a diary. Looking at the dates, his father had apparently started this when he was in college. It was mostly notes about friends, classes, teachers, and events. Nothing of any great importance. He turned another page and smiled as he read.
'Holy mother of God! I met the woman I plan to spend my life with today. Her name is Millie.'
The next several pages spoke of nothing else. Millie had seemingly become the center of his father's entire universe. Gene took the notebook to his room to read later then left with his mother for lunch followed by her weekly trip to Trader Joe's for groceries.
As he pushed the cart behind her, Gene watched both his mother and the people around them. She moved with elegance and grace, often smiling as she passed others. Men seemed mesmerized by her. Their eyes followed her as she passed. A couple of times they did so longer than the women they were with approved of.
While driving home, Gene chuckled and commented, "Mom, you turned a lot of heads in the store."
"Not intentionally. It's been that way since I was about fourteen and got boobs," she replied.
"It's not the boobs. More like stage presence, I think. Like Audrey Hepburn or Julie Andrews."
Millie chuckled, "Thanks, I think, but I'm not quite that old."
"I didn't mean age. It's more about the persona."
"Or a pretty smile and boobs."
"You underestimate yourself," her son suggested.
*****
Later that night, sitting in his bed, Gene picked up the notebook and began reading. He was about a year into his parent's relationship when he came to a page entitled
'The On Buttons.'
To date, his parents had made out several times but had never done anything sexual. They were at a lake and his father was applying sunscreen to his girlfriend's shoulders. He boldly moved his hands inside her top and cupped both breasts.
