Chapter 2

When I came home at the usual time on Friday afternoon, Mom greeted me cheerily. I went upstairs to get rid of my bag and change into my weekend grungies but stopped as soon as I entered my room. My pajama bottoms were piled, neatly folded, on the bed, although the rest of my laundry had been put away.

What did that mean? Was Mom sending a signal that she knew what I was doing and that I should stop? My face went red. I was too embarrassed to go downstairs so I hung around in my room playing video games but my heart wasn’t in it. All I could think of was Mom, whirling around the room in her sexy costume, midriff bare, legs pushing through her skirt, eyes aflame. She would never dance in front of me like that again. I just knew it! I banged my forehead with a fist. Why hadn’t I whacked off in the bathroom where I could flush the evidence away?

Reluctantly, I went downstairs when Mom called us for dinner. I couldn’t look Mom in the face but she acted as if nothing had happened and the embarrassment of the crusty pajamas soon left my mind replaced by jealousy because Mom was particularly cheery and attentive to my father.

“So, I made a reservation at Milo’s tomorrow night,” Mom said when the conversation hit a lull.

“Milo’s,” Dad said. “Isn’t that the Greek place?”

“Yes,” Mom seemed very pleased.

“I hate Greek food,” Dad complained.

“No you don’t, dear. You’ve had it before and said you liked it.”

“I have?”

“Yes. Remember, at the Carson’s”

“Oh, then. I was just being polite.”

“Well, then you were being very polite.”

“Yes, but I didn’t like it very much and it’s worse at a restaurant. Half the time they have middle-aged women, who should know better, dancing around your table while you’re trying to eat. Disgusting.”

The conversation stopped dead. I could see Mom was hurt and trying not to cry. I tried to lighten things up but Dad ignored my comments and blithely continued denigrating Greek food and belly dancing while Mom sat silent, eyes cast down. I wished I could have taken a round out of my father right then.

I didn’t sleep well that night but it wasn’t from spanking the monkey. I felt bad for Mom. She had been taking lessons for at least a year if not more and had become quite good, all for her husband, and he pissed all over her parade. Sure, he didn’t know it, but even if Mom did dance for him and he feigned appreciation, it wouldn’t be any good. Mom wasn’t looking for sympathy, she wanted to put a spark back into her marriage, and Dad’s ignorant words had crushed her. I hated him for it.

I got up early the next morning even though it was Saturday. I wanted to cheer Mom up but she was still in bed. Dad had already eaten and was getting ready to go out.

“Where’s Mom?”

“She’s still in bed. She’s not feeling well.”

“What’s wrong with her?”

“I don’t know. Maybe one of those woman things.” Dad smiled at me and opened the door. He left.

I made myself some toast and ate it with a tall glass of orange juice. After breakfast, I watched TV for an hour, waiting for Mom to come downstairs but she didn’t so I made some more toast and took it upstairs with some juice.

“Mom?” I pushed the door to her room open an inch or so.

“Mom?”

There was no answer so I pushed the door another foot and looked in. Mom was lying in bed, eyes open but listless. I carried the tray to her side of the bed and sat down with it in my lap.

“I brought you some breakfast.”

Mom looked at the tray without interest. “I’m not hungry.”

“You should eat,” I said, sounding like her when I was sick.

Mom shook her head when I put some toast near her lips but I persisted, like she did with me when I was sick, and eventually she took it into her mouth, chewing slowly and without relish despite the layer of her favorite jam, blackberry current.

As Mom ate, life began to stir within her. Her glacial, listless chewing became stronger until she was biting the toast with anger. Good, I thought, get mad at the bastard.

When the toast was gone, Mom was determined if not happy. She told me to leave so she could get dressed but flung the covers back right after I got off the bed and before I had even turned around. Her warm body filled the knee-length nightgown and her breasts jostled enticingly beneath the bodice. I shook my head and turned away, angry with myself. I would never see Mom belly dance again and I was glad of it. I was ashamed of my thoughts and the way I had looked at her, and especially of what I imagined and did at night in my room. To think Mom had cleaned those filthy pajamas. Oh God, I vowed to make it up to her.

“Mom?”

Mom turned her head slightly my way. Her back was to me and she was stepping into a skirt that she slid up under the nightgown. She turned, and her breasts thrust against the nightgown as the flimsy material twisted around her torso.

“I, uh, I...”

“Spit it out, Curtis.”

Mom started to pull the nightgown over her head, then realized what she was doing, and let it settle back onto her breasts which were obviously not covered by anything else. I looked down, afraid that I couldn’t keep my gaze off her womanly assets.

“I’ll take you out for Greek food.”

“What?”

“I’d said, I’d like to take you to that Greek restaurant.”

Mom smiled. “Oh, you would, would you?”

I didn’t see what was so funny and said so.

“Are you interested in Greek food, or belly dancing?”

I blushed. “Dad said they only had old women there.”

“He said middle-aged women, like me, but no matter. Your father doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’m sure the dancers are much younger.”

“Anyway,” I said, “I’d like to go with you.”

“Alright then,” Mom said defiantly. “Let’s you and I go out for dinner and your father can fend for himself.”

Mom suggested I cut the lawn and clean up the garage so Dad wouldn’t have anything to complain about if he came home after we left and found us gone. As it was, Dad came home before we left. Mom informed him we were going out for dinner to the Greek restaurant. He wasn’t upset. In fact, while Mom was upstairs getting dressed, he thanked me for getting him off the hook and gave me a hundred dollars to pay for dinner.

Mom came downstairs with one of her dress coats already on. Although the coat covered her from shoulders to below her knees, I could tell she had dressed up by the shoes she was wearing and was glad that I had put on a sports jacket and tie. Mom had also put her hair up which she only did when she and Dad went to their company Christmas parties. She looked nice with her hair up.

“We won’t be late,” Mom said as she pecked Dad on the cheek.

“Take your time and enjoy yourself,” Dad replied, already aiming the remote at the TV.

A strange excitement surged upward from the knot in my stomach as I closed the door behind Mom and ran to open the car door for her. I had never gone out for dinner alone with Mom and it felt oddly like a date.

Stop that nonsense, I chided myself.

Mom thanked me for opening the door and as she swung her legs into the car the coat briefly parted to her knees without revealing a dress underneath. She provided directions to the restaurant. I became progressively more anxious on the way there, my mind straying to thoughts of just how short Mom’s dress was instead of concentrating on what she was saying.

What’s the matter with you? I asked myself.

When we got to the restaurant, I had only a vague notion of what Mom had been talking about. She waited for me to come around to open the door for her which strengthened the sense that we were on a date and made me feel that I was in a small way making up for my inappropriate thoughts and Dad’s callous ignorance. As we climbed the steps up to the restaurant Mom told me the reservation was in our name. This was obvious, of course, but I realized Mom was telling me, as the man, to handle the interaction with the hostess.

Before leading us to a table the host asked Mom if she wanted to check her coat. When she removed it, I sucked in my breath. Mom was wearing a shimmery green dress that molded to her figure. It was cut quite low in front and though her back was covered, her arms were bare. It was a simple but elegant affair and I felt proud walking behind Mom as the host led us to our table amid admiring glances from both men and women.

The food was exceptionally good and we followed it up with baklava for dessert and Mom insisted that I order ouzo. Mom smiled at both my nervousness and pride when the waiter didn’t ask for my ID. She reached out and put her hand over the back of mine.

“You did that well.”

That made me feel even better. I was supposed to be making her feel better and here she was making me feel like a man instead. I loved it.

As we ate baklava and sipped ouzo, a very attractive older woman swept into the small dance floor with a flourish to the center of the room.

“Watch this,” Mom whispered. “She taught our class a few times. She’s a fantastic dancer.”

“Milo’s is proud to present Lady Alexandra,” the host announced as the music started.

Lady Alexandra began to dance, moving slowly. She was wearing a multi-colored top, not much more than a fancy bra actually, above a fine mesh skirt slit to the hip on the left side that barely covered a plain brown bikini bottom. Jewelry and bracelets adorned her fingers, wrists and ankles. By her face, I judged that Lady Alexandra was about fifty but her body looked like that of a much younger woman, and one in extremely good shape at that.

“Doesn’t she look wonderful?” Mom said.

“Yeah,” I replied and Mom laughed at my obvious appreciation of Lady Alexandra.

“I guess your father doesn’t know what he’s missing,” Mom said as Lady Alexandra undulated across the floor, the trinkets circling her waist tinkling, her stomach a constantly moving canapé of flesh and shadows.

“Let’s not tell him,” I whispered.

Mom reached out and put her hand on mine again which set my arm a-tingle. “Yes, let’s not,” she said.

I was aware, even elated, that Mom and I had just become partners in a conspiracy, however minor or innocent.

Lady Alexandra alternated between rapidly shimmying her hips as she spun around the dance floor to slowly undulating her body across it. Catching everyone by surprise, she dropped into an amazingly low dip that exposed her entire, well-muscled left leg before rising up with sharply arched back and breasts thrust skyward, only to launch into a second lunge toward another table. To my delight, this and similar choreographies were repeated many times.

Near the end, Lady Alexandra dropped backwards to the floor and lifted herself with hands and feet enabling a reverse crawl, pushing her breasts up and moving in a way that transformed her belly into a continuous, rippling wave. Every aspect of her body, including her long wavy blonde hair, was employed to suck her audience into the mystery of her world. She was absolutely mesmerizing.

When the dance ended, Mom squeezed my hand which startled me because I hadn’t realized until than that she had held it throughout the dance.

“You see what I’m up against?” Mom gasped.

“You could be better,” I blurted, then quickly looked away because I knew Mom would be able to see in my eyes why I believed what I had inadvertently said.

Mom squeezed my hand before withdrawing hers. “That’s sweet of you to say.”

Lady Alexandra received an enthusiastic round of applause and started to leave the dance floor but she stopped when she saw Mom and then walked straight to our table.

“Lisa, so nice to see you.”

“Hello Carol,” Mom responded.

Lady Alexandra looked at me. No way this woman could be named Carol, I thought.

“This can’t be your husband.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “Does he know?”

Mom laughed. “Carol, this is my son, Curtis. Curtis, meet Carol, or Lady Alexandra.”

I stood up and extended my hand. “The pleasure is all mine.”

“Oh, a gentleman, and so handsome too.”

“Yes, he certainly is.”

“Is your husband away?”

A troubled expression crossed Mom’s face. “No, but I don’t think he’ll be coming. He’s not a fan of Greek food or, apparently, of belly dancing.”

“Oh, how sad ... for him.”

“Yes,” Mom said, either not trying or failing to hide her disappointment.

“But surely you’re not going to quit? Oh, you can’t, you’re simply too good to stop now.”

“That’s what I said,” I interjected.

Lady Alexandra smiled at me and quickly looked back at Mom. “You see? You have the best audience you can have, an adoring son. You should dance for him, and then dance for me, right here.” Carol swept her hand around in a wide arc.

Mom looked down, color flushing her face. I blushed too.

“Ah, so you’ve already danced for him.” Carol looked at me again, a knowing smile accompanying a pleased expression that regarded me for a longer moment. “I used to dance for my son. I still do, when he comes to town.” A wistful look took over her face and she looked at Mom again. “You can’t get a more appreciative audience than your son.”

I imagined this sexy woman dancing for a handsome Greek Adonis, young but blonde like herself, pushing herself off the floor, undulating her belly and grinding her pelvis in simulated love-making, then pictured Mom doing the same for me.

“You’ll encourage your mother, won’t you Curtis?”

I nodded earnestly, looking at both Mom and Lady Alexandra, hoping the oily image of Mom’s sinewy body was not visible through my eyes.

“There, you see?” Carol placed her long fingers under Mom’s chin and raised her head. “You won’t disappoint your fans, will you?”

A moist hint of tears had gathered in the corner of Mom’s eyes. “No, I guess not.”

“Good. You’re a very promising dancer. It would be selfish of you to stop now. Wouldn’t it Curtis?”

Lady Alexandra didn’t look at me but rather held her gaze steadily upon Mom.

“Yes, it would,” I affirmed.

“Too right,” Carol said. “Listen, come back to see me before you go.”

With that, Lady Alexandra swept away and every male eye, including my own, followed her out of the room.

“Quite something, isn’t she?” Mom said, dabbing her right eye.

“Yes, and she obviously thinks you’re quite something too.”

“Oh, she’s just being nice.”

“I don’t think so.”

Mom didn’t reply and we finished our baklava and ouzo in silence. I grabbed the bill when it came but blanched when I saw it was more than the hundred dollars Dad had given me. Mom saw my consternation and took the bill from my hand.

“This is my treat,” she said.

“But Dad gave me a hundred dollars to pay for dinner.”

“Then you keep it.”

“But Mom...”

“Do as I ask, please.”

The waiter directed us to a room in back and knocked. After opening the door and ushering us inside, he left. Lady Alexandra was sitting in front of a mirror removing her make-up. The fine mesh skirt had been removed and all she was wearing was the multi-colored top and plain brown bikini bottom, or panties, really, now that I could see them close up. Her breasts bulged from the sides of the top.

“Oh Lisa.” She stood up to greet Mom. “Here, I want you to take some of these costumes home.”

“Oh, no. I couldn’t.”

“Nonsense. It’s best to look the part when you practise.”

Lady Alexandra stepped over to a long rack and pulled out three costumes, holding each in turn against Mom.

“Perfect,” she said for the first one, then, “Sexy,” and “Divine.”

“You’ll look fabulous in these, won’t she Curtis?”

That was the first time she acknowledged my presence. I nodded. Lady Alexandra tossed the costumes on the chair.

“Oh, I have just the thing. Here, try this one.”

She pulled a fourth costume off the rack.

“This was my son’s favorite. Try it on.”

“What?” Mom cried.

“Hold this Curtis,” Lady Alexandra said, handing me the skimpy costume.

Lady Alexandra reached around Mom’s neck and deftly unhooked her dress, then quickly ran the zipper down Mom’s back.

“Carol!” Mom exclaimed.

“Oh, don’t worry about Curtis. He doesn’t mind, do you, Curtis?”

I shook my head, my gaze quickly surveying Mom’s body, increasingly exposed as Carol pushed the dress over Mom’s hips and let it fall around her legs in a heap on the floor. My mouth went dry as my gaze fastened on Mom’s ample breasts which were barely contained by a thin, half-cupped bra. My peripheral vision caught sight of the thin straps that hooked over Mom’s hips, hardly looking strong enough to hold up the two tiny triangles, one in front and another behind, that purported to be panties. Wow!

Lady Alexandra quickly wrapped the semi see-through skirt of the costume around Mom’s waist, concealing the wondrous vision of Mom’s lower body which was more gorgeous than I had imagined even in my dreams. Lady Alexandra twisted Mom around to face me.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yes,” I confirmed, through my constricted throat.

I meant it and Lady Alexandra could see I meant it. She smiled at me with that knowing look in her eyes, and this time, I didn’t look away. Mom, who had at first averted her eyes, looked squarely at me.

“Will you help your mother?”

I looked at Mom and nodded, not quite sure what I was agreeing to.

“Would you be your mother’s audience, let her dance for you in full costume?”

I nodded more eagerly.

“Of course you would,” Lady Alexandra laughed. “What son wouldn’t help his mother?”

Lady Alexandra spun Mom around to face her. “Let’s get you dressed.” She muttered to herself, referencing my father, “He must be blind to ignore such a woman,” followed by “Doesn’t he know that a woman needs to be appreciated?”

She unwrapped the skirt and threw it onto the chair with the rest of the costumes. Mom stood before me, dressed only in the tiny, triangular panties and the skimpy bra, her eyes cast down but standing behind her, mine were free to roam.

“Pull her dress up, Curtis,” she instructed.

I looked at the dress that still piled in a circle around Mom’s feet.

“Curtis,” Lady Alexandra prompted.

I knelt on the floor behind Mom and started sliding the dress up her legs, following it as it rose only inches in front of my nose. Suddenly, I was looking right at Mom’s behind, at the crack between her cheeks extending above the waist band of the tiny panties which barely covered half her bottom, and the lower swells of her buttocks sweeping in to merge with the curve of her waist. Wonderful!

My hands contacted Mom’s warm skin as I pulled the dress over her hips and then against the side of her breasts when I pulled it higher. I paused there, unintentionally, as I stood up and Lady Alexandra smiled over Mom’s shoulders. She knew I wasn’t thinking about Mom the way a son should but, surprisingly, her eyes twinkled encouragement. She took hold of Mom’s dress and fit the bodice better around her breasts.

“Be careful with the zipper, Curtis. This is fine dress and we don’t want to break it by going too fast, now do we?”

“No ma’am,” I agreed.

I fumbled nervously with the zipper, nestling as it was on top of Mom’s buttocks. I could sense Lady Alexandra grinning over Mom’s shoulder. I pulled the zipper up very slowly, not wanting to draw her wrath and enjoying the smooth expanse of Mom’s unblemished back and the tantalizing groove that gave way to the little bumps of her spine. I was disappointed when the zipper finally reached its destination. Lady Alexandra started to reconnect the hook at the neckline but Mom’s right foot twisted under and she missed.

“Hold her still,” Lady Alexandra said.

Tentatively, I put my hands on Mom’s waist. As Lady Alexandra continued to struggle with the clasp—suprisingly for someone who had disconnected it so deftly—my fingers closed tighter around Mom’s waist until I was holding her firmly. My hands emphasized the contrast between her narrow waist and the buttocks that flared out behind it. I looked up into Lady Alexandra’s waiting, amused eyes.

“I think we’re ready now,” she said, stepping away from Mom.

I held Mom’s waist for a few seconds longer, then reluctantly let go and stepped back myself.

Lady Alexandra put the costumes into a large bag and handed it to me.

“Take these home for your mother and make sure she uses them.”

As we left, Lady Alexandra grasped Mom’s hand and held her so that she was last out the door. She whispered in Mom’s ear but not so quietly that I couldn’t hear.

“I loved dancing for my son, Lisa. He brought out the best in me and that made me feel so wonderful inside.”

I turned in time to see Mom nod.

We drove home in silence, each consumed with our own thoughts. I didn’t dare say anything about what had happened but my head was filled with Mom’s surprisingly sexy body and images of her dancing the way Lady Alexandra had ... but for me.

Mom was so quiet, I thought she was angry but when I opened the door for her she looked up and smiled. She swung her legs out, allowing the coat to part and expose her legs high above the knee.

“Thank you, sir,” Mom said, when I shut the car door. She leaned toward me and stretched up to give me a kiss on the cheek. “I really enjoyed myself tonight. It was a wonderful date.”

Later that night, when I was alone in bed, those words rang in my head and, despite my earlier resolve, my hand found my cock as the vision of Mom’s supple body filled my mind. My hands encircled Mom’s naked waist to hold her firmly in position for my hard cock which bumped into her bare ass and then slipped sideways to nudge between her rubbery cheeks. I started to come.

Sunday morning I went to church with my parents which I hadn’t done for almost nine months, ever since I turned eighteen and they said I could make my own choice about religion. Dad was pleasantly surprised but Mom was even more pleased, and me, I was confused about my own decision. With the evil thoughts that pervaded my mind and the wicked actions of my hand at night while my head was full of my mother’s naked body, you’d think the last place I’d want to be was in the house of God. But here I was sitting next to Mom, my hand on the bench between us, and hers squeezing it while everyone sang hymns.

When we left the church, I held the car door open for Mom and felt strangely guilty when Dad looked at me strangely, as if he knew I was entertaining illicit thoughts about Mom and that I was trying to catch a flash of leg. However, I was mistaken. Mom seemed pleased by my chivalrous action but there was no flash of leg and Dad complimented me for being a gentleman.