Starting Over

Author's Note: This story moves fairly slowly, so I know it's not going to be everyone's cup of tea. In fact, there is no action at all in this first part. I don't want to waste anyone's time on the kind of story that doesn't appeal to them, so I'm adding in that as a disclaimer here. As always, all sexual situations only involve characters who are eighteen years or older, even when not expressly stated.

"No, Mom, really, it's no problem. Of course, you can come right over," I said. I was talking to her on the phone, barely able to understand what she was saying through her crying and the distressed sound of her voice.

"Thank you, Mathew. My cab should be here soon, I'll be there in about an hour," Mom replied.

I took the time I had to try and straighten up my place a bit, all the while trying to piece together what I could from the conversation I'd just had with Mom. All I could gather was that something had happened between her and Dad and that she was furious at him. It must have been something terrible, because even though arguing wasn't anything new for them, this was the first time that Mom had literally walked out the door. An hour later she arrived as promised, and I buzzed her up to my apartment. When I opened the door, I got a new shock, as I saw her come in with a suitcase in hand.

"Mom, what's going on?" I asked in disbelief.

"It's... I... " she began before her voice trailed off into something even more indiscernible. Of course, I'd seen Mom upset plenty of times before, but nothing like this. Whatever had happened must have been huge to affect her this badly.

"Here, why don't you sit down, let me take your coat," I offered, hoping I could settle her down enough to talk about it. "Would you like a drink? I have some whiskey in the cupboard."

"I'll have one," Mom immediately replied.

Neither of us are really drinkers, so her accepting my offer so readily made me even more concerned, but I was relieved to find something that might help settle her down, so I went to make us both a whiskey on the rocks while she took a seat on my living room sofa. We then sat and took a few sips as we tried to resume our conversation.

"I just can't believe it, Mathew," Mom said, her tone only slightly less flabbergasted than before. "After all these years, that fucking rat."

"What happened, Mom? You need to be a little more specific," I replied. I didn't mean to come across as sarcastic, despite my tone sounding more flippant than it should have. "Start from the beginning." The truth was, she and Dad had fought plenty over the years, enough that I'd been glad to move out two years ago just so I'd be freed from having to witness it. This argument was clearly on a different level though.

"I... I don't know how to tell you this, Mathew, but it started a few months ago. Little odd things from your Dad here and there... I didn't want to believe it at first, but I began suspecting that he was having an affair."

"Wow," I said, my eyes getting wide in disbelief. For all of their problems, infidelity, or even the hint of it, had never been one of them. It was the one thing I appreciated about their marriage, especially from Dad, who I usually felt had been the guilty party whenever he and Mom fought. Now, apparently, that trust was gone too.

"I had gone out for the day, at least that was my plan," Mom continued, but there was a mistake at the spa I'd gone to and my appointment had been canceled. And so I went back home early, and when I opened the front door and came in, I... I..."

"I could hear them upstairs," Mom finally said, finishing her sentence. The disgust in her voice was heavy and certainly understandable. I'd had a relationship of my own end recently after finding out my girlfriend was cheating on me, but at least I'd been spared the humiliation of catching her in the act. And, of course, we hadn't been married for over twenty years as Mom and Dad were. That thought reminded me; their 25th wedding anniversary was coming up later this year and I'd been meaning to ask them how we should celebrate. I guess those plans were over now.

"I... I slowly climbed up the stairs, the noises from... from our bedroom getting louder as I went.." Mom said, her voice breaking.

"I'm so sorry, Mom, it breaks my heart to see you like this," I said, cutting her off as I hoped to spare Mom the indignity of having to say out loud that she witnessed Dad and another woman having sex in their bed, the same marital bed they'd shared for the last twenty-five years.

"Thanks son, that's really sweet of you," she replied, her voice choking with emotion.

I took Mom's hand lovingly into mine, hoping to show her my affection and support, and we sat in silence for a while, trying to regain some sense of calmness, before I finally decided to speak up again:

"Did you know who she was?"

"His... his receptionist from the office, the one he hired a few months ago," Mom nodded back. "I thought there was something fishy going on from the first time I saw her. She looked like a bimbo to me, short skirt, low-cut dress. Turns out she was a gold digger too. She was barely there a couple of weeks before they started cheating. Still, I never thought Gary would stoop so low, especially with someone like that. Mathew, she's only twenty years old..."

"Holy shit," I replied in disbelief. Dad was fifty; hell, I was twenty-three. This girl was even younger than my ex.

"What..." I didn't know how to ask the question, but I knew I had to. "What did you do next?"

"I can barely remember myself. That sight... it's hard to remember much after seeing something like that. I just know I completely lost it, yelling and throwing things. She got the hell out of there so fast it was a blur, and then Gary and I fought."

"You mean Dad actually tried to defend himself after all that?" I asked in disbelief.

"Not really, he was mostly apologizing, but who cares," Mom answered. "They can both rot in hell as far as I'm concerned. I told Gary I was leaving, and packed a suitcase as fast as I could, and then called a cab before I got on the phone with you."

"My god, this all just happened right now," I said to myself. It all seemed so surreal to me; less than two hours ago Mom had caught Dad and his mistress fucking in their bed and now she was sitting with me on the couch, slowly nursing the drink I'd made her. Despite the extremely distressed look and sound of her, I was surprised Mom wasn't doing worse. Still, it explained her disheveled appearance; Mom always took the time to look her best, and after what she'd just been through she looked more like a trauma victim than my usually well composed mother.

"I can't thank you enough for taking me in on such short notice Mathew," Mom continued on, trying to force a small smile. "You're sure it's alright?"

"Of course it is, you're my mother," I replied resolutely. "You can stay here as long as you want."

"But..." I added, "It's not much of a home here. I mean, I don't have a lot of space. I'm lucky to even have a separate wall for the bedroom, most of the other single room apartments here don't. And only one bathroom too. I know you don't want to hear this Mom, but wouldn't it make more sense for you to go back home? Tell Dad to go to a motel or something until you figure out what you want to do."

"Mathew, I... I don't think I can ever go back there, not after what I've seen. Maybe in a few days, I'll try and get more of my belongings, or better yet, maybe you can get them for me, but I can't live there anymore, much less sleep there, not even if it's in a different room."

"I understand, I understand completely Mom," I said, squeezing her hand warmly to add emphasis to my words. I knew my empathy was exactly what she needed to hear right now, especially considering that one of Dad's most common complaints about her was that she became overly dramatic and irrational whenever anything stressful happened.

"You could still do a lot better than this place though," I admitted. "Did you take your credit cards with you?" She'd been a stay-at-home mom ever since I was born, but there were cards in both their names, and Dad had never stopped Mom from buying whatever she wanted, although he often complained to her about it. Cheap bastard, considering how much money he made, and that Mom's spending was never anything so outlandish that he should take issue with it. I couldn't imagine him cutting her off now, especially after what he'd done.

"You could stay at a five star hotel if you wanted to. You deserve it, and besides, it would serve Dad right," I added.

"Mathew... I don't want to be alone. There are a couple of friends I could stay with, but I'm too embarrassed to tell them what's happened. I was barely able to talk about it with you. Besides, this place isn't so bad, it just needs a woman's touch."

"If you say so, I just don't want you to feel uncomfortable, or be forced to rough it at a time like this."

"I'll be fine," Mom replied, forcing another awkward smile.

"Are you hungry? I don't have much to cook with right now, but I could order takeout. There's a place close by with some great Kung Pao chicken that I know you would love."

"Sounds wonderful," she smiled back warmly. "But my nerves are feeling so frazzled right now. If there's time, I'd like to take a nice, hot bath first."

"There's always time, but Mom, you know I don't have a bath here, right? I told you when I first moved here, just a shower, and it's a pretty tiny one at that."

"I'll be fine," she replied. "Why don't you order for us while I get washed up?"

I did as Mom asked, and then sat with my drink as I waited for the food to arrive. I could hear the shower from the next room, feeling relieved that that I'd recently cleaned it, and then went to the door to pay for our food. Shortly after that, I could hear the water shut off and Mom calling out to me from the bathroom.

"Matt, don't you have any bathrobes here?" she asked.

"Um, no, I haven't bothered with those for a long time."

"Well, what am I supposed to do?" she said from the other room.

"I do have some big towels in the cabinet."

"Ugh... I guess that'll have to do," she said back, sounding the tiniest bit irritated.

She came out a few minutes later with one of my white towels wrapped around her. I may have advertised them as "big," but that wasn't really the case, which became even more apparent now that Mom was wearing one. She went from the bathroom back to the bedroom, quickly walking past where I sat, making only the briefest of eye contact. Her pace wasn't overly hurried, but it was fast enough that I could tell she was uncomfortable with me seeing her this way.

I guess this as good a time as any to talk a bit about Mom's appearance. She's forty-six, and more or less looks her age, but she's a great-looking forty-six. I did my best not to stare at her, but even in those fleeting moments where I couldn't help but be lost by her supple neck and shoulders, which were on full display with the towel being wrapped tightly underneath her arms. Even more pretty was her face, which despite the few creases that had appeared in recent years was still as captivating as ever, looking so sweet and natural without makeup. My eyes darted lower, trying to break the spell she'd put me under, but that only made me focus on her legs. The towel barely made it to the top of her firm thighs, leaving them completely exposed, reminding me that below the slacks or jeans Mom usually wore she had gorgeous legs, even at her age.

A few seconds later and Mom was back in the bedroom getting changed, and I did my best to try and forget what I had just seen. I could feel my heart beating faster, my body acting beyond my control, and soon my mind joined in too, as the tantalizing thought that only moments ago she'd been almost naked just a few feet away from where I now stood. It was the most revealing attire I'd seen on her in years, maybe ever, since Mom always dressed so conservatively. She wasn't even the type to show that much at the beach, which I could barely remember anyway as we hadn't been there since I'd been a kid. All I could think of was that towel's edge being so short that she'd only been a couple inches away from exposing herself, and that it had been so small that she'd been forced to wrap it tightly around her torso, accentuating all of her womanly attributes, especially her curvy hips and ass.

If it sounds weird that I'd be having such impure thoughts about my own mother, the truth is I'd had them for a long time, that I'd struggled with these desires for years. I'd always thought she was an attractive woman, just as I'd always been annoyed with Dad for taking that, and everything else about her for granted, but at some point my feelings for her had crossed a line and become clearly inappropriate.

As much as I fought against it at first, it didn't take long before any morality I had left in the way were defeated, with my thoughts being overrun with constant sexual fantasies about her. Of course, I still knew what I was doing was wrong, and I'd always feel horribly guilty about it afterwards, but it would never be enough to stop me from doing it again.

I'd thought I was finally able to put those improper thoughts away though, as I started dating and having relationships of my own, hoping that my past was nothing more than a phase I'd gone through as a single, horny eighteen year old. It wasn't something I'd ever be proud of, but at least it all seemed to be over with. So why was this happening to me again? Was it merely because I hadn't dated anyone since my own breakup and was feeling lonely, horny, or both?

**

Not much happened for the next couple of days as Mom got settled in, which included her making a quick shopping trip to replace her toiletry supplies and, to my chagrin, a new, fluffy, full length bathrobe for her as well. My desires were well past the point of her new robe being an obstacle for me though, as even the sight of her wearing it would excite me to no end, from the sexy way her wet hair looked combed back to the illicit thoughts I'd have over her stunning naked body being so close at hand.

In fact, I even decided for a bit of retaliation in this regard, as it had always been my habit to come out of the shower with only a short towel around my waist. It barely covered me, and of course living alone I'd never given much thought about that, but now whenever I did I could feel Mom's eyes on me. I had no idea what she was thinking, but frankly, I was in the best shape of my life and quite proud of how I looked. It was one of the few things that still made me feel good about myself in the aftermath of the terrible breakup with my girlfriend, and knowing that Mom was watching me was definitely exciting.

I didn't know what kind of effect I was having on Mom, but she certainly took notice, as one day she cheerfully presented me with a "gift," a bathrobe similar to the one she'd bought for herself.

"Here, Mathew, I thought you could use this," Mom said, before dryly adding, "I wouldn't want you to catch a cold or anything."

I loved that Mom was kidding around rather than taking the typical approach she'd used in the past, like scolding me. It did feel like our relationship was developing, with her treating me more like an adult friend rather than her son, and I welcomed the change. And despite her insistence for me to cover up, her apparent amusement mixed in with the slight discomfort in her voice made me wonder if she might be getting a little distracted too by seeing me so scantily clad. Perhaps it was only my mind playing tricks on me, but something kept telling me that this was the case. It was enough that I'd usually "forget" to take the robe with me whenever I went to shower. Mom would usually make some flippant remark afterwards about why she should buy me something only to have me not use it, but once again she sounded more amused than upset.

I would always look away during those times, because just knowing her eyes were on me, hoping that just maybe she took a little pleasure in what she saw was such a turn on. I was afraid she'd be able to read it on my face, and it wouldn't be long before I'd have to get out there, because even such small illicit thoughts would be enough to have the blood flowing into my groin. The embarrassment of having a wardrobe malfunction in front of her, with my full erection bobbing in front of her excited me as much as it terrified me, enough that I regularly fantasized about it, wishing that it would spark off a sexual encounter between us.

I wanted to believe these types of thoughts were something I'd left in the past, and for a few years they had, but now they were coming back to me stronger than ever. But in a way this all felt so completely different to me now; I wasn't simply a horny virgin who had developed a sexual attraction towards my mother and had fantasized about her. I was an adult now, living with this person who'd recently left her husband after years of being in a toxic relationship. She was, for all intents and purposes, a single woman, with both of us having recently felt the pain of infidelity. The more I thought about it now, the more the idea of finding a safe harbor in each other's arms felt like a real relationship to me, something I wanted to pursue regardless of what society might think. I wasn't going to be satisfied until I knew for certain whether or not there was any chance of making this new dream of mine a reality, but that meant trying to find out if Mom could ever feel the same way about me, which was going to be difficult to say the least.

**

The next few weeks were some of the happiest I'd had in years, as Mom and I spent so much time together that we were practically inseparable. More and more, I felt like we really were developing an adult friendship, one based on a foundation of respect and trust. This became most apparent in our most private conversations, which typically took place in the evening before we turned in for bed. It felt good for me to talk about my latest girlfriend, Melanie, who coincidentally had been cheating on me as well. The subject was still painful enough that I rarely spoke about it with anyone, but Mom was so open and understanding that I soon found myself unburdening my soul to her.

But what really made me feel close to her now was to hear Mom talk about her past relationships, especially her marriage to Dad. For the most part, the filter she'd always had on whenever talking about him to me had been removed, as we now spoke more freely to one another as adults. Despite all that, even I was a bit taken by surprise, when during one of our more candid conversations, Mom admitted to me that she had never loved Dad.

"I'm so sorry, Matt," she quickly added, noting my reaction and immediately trying to soften the impact. I appreciated that she had instantly fallen back into trying to be a caring mother, but if anything I was much more grateful that she was being so honest with me. This was the relationship I coveted with Mom, one where we were could be open with each other about everything. Of course, I still carried my one huge secret, that of my longing desire for her, but more and more I felt comfortable with how I felt, and hoped that one day I might get to the point where I was brave enough to unburden myself to her. But this latest admission from Mom had made her turn suddenly skittish, as she tried to backpedal her words.

"It's okay, Mom, it really is," I said, trying to calm her down.

"I'm still sorry. I mean, no child wants... deserves... to hear their Mom talk that way about their father."

"I'm not a child anymore, Mom," I replied self-assuredly. "And besides, it's not like I didn't suspect it all these years."

"Still... it's not fair..." Mom began.