If you want to feel loved, try curling up, spooned between your two sons in a big crisp white hotel bed. There is nothing like feeling your eldest behind you. His muscular and firm body pressed against you, his hand lazily on your hip. Feeling his nineteen-year-old younger brother, slighter and more boyish, in front of you with your hand round his waist, is a delicious thing too. Trust me.
Hours before I was far from being so relaxed and comfortable. I was shouting and swearing at the receptionist at the Metropol Hotel, Sedona we had booked as part of our dream family road trip holiday. Do not underestimate how forceful a woman in her forties can get. I pulled myself up to my full five feet four inches, thrust out my impressive chest and, pun intended, gave her both barrels. The problem was the rooms. How had two mysteriously become one? Had my clear instructions to book a double for me and a twin for my two sons, who were unhelpfully standing way, way behind me looking embarrassed, been ignored? I was probably being unreasonable. It was hardly the fault of the mousy brunette in front of me. Clara, it said on her name tag. She was just unlucky enough to be on the desk I guess. As my anger rose, she glimpsed behind me and a smile played across her lips on seeing my boys. I caught my eldest, Hamilton, flash a smile back with his handsome features and sparkling eyes. Now, it seems Clara would go and see what she could do. Men? They get it easy. Damn them.
Minutes later we were being whisked up to an upgraded room by way of an apology. A computer error was to blame apparently. Hamilton was flirting with new best friend Clara all the way. I swear she undid a button of her blouse, flashing more of her smooth milky white, and admittedly cute, tits than was strictly necessary. I took immature pride in the fact that mine were bigger and my cleavage was deeper. I suppose I ought to be proud of my oldest boy. His charm and sex appeal did at least get us a nicer room although one we would have to share.
Hamilton's brother, Scott had none of his older brother's swagger. Still a teenager for another few months, he still had a lot of confidence to build. I felt for him as we made small talk. Why didn't Clara like him, I pondered. A thought crossed my mind. I should intervene for my younger more sensitive son. Put in a word for him. Pimp him out. The thought quickly passed as inappropriate. Besides, his day would come. Busty Clara eventually left us alone with a swing of her hips and wave at Hamilton.
I suddenly realised how tired we were. I told the boys too who agreed. All our eyes turned to the huge, luxurious bed. We coyly prepared for the night. I wish I had packed something different as I changed in the bathroom. My pyjamas had a plunging neckline and left me feeling self-conscious. I couldn't face sleeping in my bra though which meant I skipped from the bathroom to the bed at speed. The boys, just in pyjama bottoms hesitated before joining either side of me.
