You could say that Mike was advanced for his age. He was in his last year in high school, but his understanding of psychology, especially as it relates to the female of the species, was remarkable. Basically, he divided girls and women into two categories: strong and weak. Mike preferred the weak variety, and he pursued them like a lion running down a baby wildebeest on the Serengeti. His success rate was also remarkable, especially considering his average looks.
Around school, he had just about run out of prey, though. His reputation was such that his rich pickings were drying up like a bad year in the Sahara. Girls talk, and the word gets around about a guy who appears to be sweet and gentle until he's talked your panties off and had his fun, and then suddenly turns to chase the next straggler. The landscape of broken hearts at Mike's school looked a bit like bones bleaching in the sun out on the savanna.
Mike wasn't particularly physically imposing, which was to his advantage. He could appear innocent that way, the better to lure his unsuspecting prey into bed. But no girl was quite enough in and of herself, and after a few encounters, Mikey headed for greener pastures, leaving the poor coed to wonder what had happened. He was even able to create in them the belief that the breakup had somehow been their fault, which was a real talent on his part. Many a young girl actually felt sorry for him when their affair ended. Mike never felt sorry for anything.
Mike had inherited his talents from his dad, Lance. Lance was and always had been a hound. Lance finally settled down with Nancy because of the advantages she brought him. She was trusting, cute, younger than him, and from a wealthy family. Lance used her connections to get a good position and her trust to obscure years of cheating. But he always took care of Nancy and Mike emotionally, superficially at least. Nancy was actually happy, in the sense that "ignorance is bliss". In a way, it was a pretty functional family. It just wasn't a Norman Rockwell kind of functionality.
As a trusting and weak-willed mother, Nancy had always been easily manipulated by her one and only son. She doted on him, and he learned early how to push her buttons without her knowing it. He got most everything he wanted through honey, not vinegar, and Nancy was quite happy with and proud of her son. After all, Mike was a good student, and he seemed to be very popular at school.
It's hard to say when exactly Mike began to think of his mom as a potential outlet for his sexual desires. She was very cute. She was very handy. That he could manipulate her was without question. Maybe it was the drying up of the "new woman pool" at his school, the challenge of playing the big con on Mom, or some genuine Oedipal desire. But as Mike neared the end of his high school career, he began to set his sights on Nancy. From his initial incestuous thoughts, it was almost a foregone conclusion that he would have her. He remembered a little joke his father had told him once.
"Mikey, do you know how to steal another man's woman?"
"Uh no, Dad. How do you steal another man's woman?" Mike replied.
"One piece at a time, son. One piece at a time."
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The first bits would be a snap. Hugs and kisses, moving into extended necking and petting. His mom always hugged him and kissed his cheek, so he could ease her down that path to the first turn. To start off with, flowers.
"Mom, are you home?"
"In here, sweetie. I'm fixin' supper."
Mike walked in the kitchen and found Nancy cutting up veggies for the wok. He walked up beside her and kissed her cheek, his right arm hiding a bouquet of red roses behind him.
"Happy spring, Mom," he said, pulling the flowers out of hiding.
"Mikey! You didn't get those for me did you? Oh, you sweet, sweet boy!"
Nancy put her knife down, turned to her son, and grasped the roses, inhaling their scent.
"Just a little present for my beautiful mother."
"But red roses, honey. They're so expensive, and people usually get them for their sweethearts. Moms usually get daisies or something."
"You are my sweetheart, Mom. I love you."
"Oh, and I love you so much, honey." Nancy put the flowers on the counter, hugged her son warmly around the ribs, and kissed him on the cheek. Mike brought his hands from around her shoulders to her face and put his lips on hers.
Timing was critical. This first little piece of Momma's pie needed to be taken with a mixture of strength and subtlety. The kiss was on her lips, firm, chaste, and just long enough to make an impression and stick in her memory. A kiss to plant a small suggestion, not to over power her.
Mike pulled back and looked lovingly in his mother's eyes. He'd used the same look in so many situations, and he knew it could begin to melt a female heart. It needed to be warm and sincere. Yeah, he could fake warm and sincere.
Pressing his luck, Mike couldn't resist another lip-to-lip with Mom, and she didn't back away, though she felt a little tickle back in her brain warning her that something was not quite right.
For a week, Mike spent as much time as possible with his mother. He was oh-so helpful in the kitchen, cleaning house, shopping. He held her hand while they watched TV or shopped. He kissed her neck and cheek. A few times, he kissed her lips, and Nancy found herself relaxing more and beginning to enjoy the kisses and to feel that they were normal and good. Mike was careful to confine his extra affections to times when they were alone, though.
