Chapter 5

Mom’s cool and indifferent attitude the next day granted me no assurance that things were going to stay the same between us; there was no confirmation that we had crossed a one-way boundary and that things could never be the same. There were no secret glances or smiles, no sashays across the kitchen floor when Dad wasn’t looking. Nothing, nada. In fact, Mom seemed perturbed whenever I approached her closely, however subtlety.

I read up on incestuous relations between mothers and sons—it sounded ugly and I hated to admit that it described us but that’s what it was. Still, I felt what happened was beautiful—not the crap on the sex story sites but in the case studies of real relationships. These weren’t as rare as one might think and though they weren’t described in flattering terms, I saw a glimmer of beauty hiding within each case.

I also found out that a mature woman could be released from, often self-imposed, sexual inhibition in an explosion of sexuality. So why was Mom, having done that last night, now exhibiting the opposite effect? Sure, it had only been one day but the tension between us had been building incrementally for weeks and this was the second time she had cooled toward me. I hoped she just needed some space.

So I played it cool. That lasted for all of two hours and then I got the brush off when I tossed a hint in as low key a manner as humanly possible. Even so, Mom seemed angry and flashed a nervous glance in my father’s direction, and he wasn’t even in the room. I left and angrily went upstairs to my room to sulk. Fuck! Women were so fucking frustrating.

I didn’t emerge until Mom yelled for me to come down for dinner. I didn’t shout back lest my father get involved so I went downstairs. The dining room table wasn’t set and Dad was sitting in the living room already eating on a TV table. Mom had changed into a frilly white blouse and a sleek black skirt. Her hair was done up like she was ready to go out.

“We’re going to be late. Why haven’t you changed?” she asked, frowning as she regarded my sloppy attire, sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Changed? For what?” I mumbled.

“Milo’s. You promised to take me to see the special show Carol told us about.”

Dad looked up and winked at me. “Ahhh, so you’re into the older ladies?”

I rolled my eyes.

“You’d better go and get ready, son,” Dad added more sympathetically.

I turned and started back up the stairs.

“You’d better hurry,” he said. “It looks like you’re already in trouble.”

I sprang up the stairs but my mind raced way ahead of my body. Dinner, then a drive up to see the city lights, and maybe some ... whatever, then back home and hopefully Dad would be in bed by then so we could ... Yeah, oh yeah. I knew it!

But wait. Mom wasn’t wearing the green dress with the little bra underneath. She was wearing a staid, well a little frilly, but still conservative-looking white blouse and a plain black skirt, not even a short one, it was down to her knees for crying out loud.

Yeah, so? She still looks nice in it. It shows her figure nicely and her legs are great. You can see she’s still got a dynamite body.

But it’s so conservative. If she was going to get wild, wouldn’t she be wearing the green dress or that sexy black number, or something else she had to hide under her coat so Dad wouldn’t see?

Maybe, maybe not.

I quit talking to myself and got busy dressing. I had just tucked my shirt into my pants and was about to do my tie when Mom knocked on the door and pushed it open.

“That looks better. Here, let me help.”

Mom started doing my tie and while she concentrated on it I carefully regarded her for any sign that things were going to get back on track, or keep going off track depending on your perspective, but I couldn’t fathom her mood.

Mom looked pretty with her make-up all done. I inhaled her aroma, a mix of her core scent which I now easily recognized and that of the perfume she was wearing. I looked at the delicate curve of her neck, which seemed so long with her hair up, and leaned forward a tiny bit, propelled by the urge to kiss it.

Mom pulled away. “There,” she said, surveying her handiwork. “Put your jacket on and let’s go.”

I got my sports jacket from the closet and put it on, then went to the door and waited for Mom.

“Aren’t you going to put on your dress shoes?”

“Oh yeah.”

I retrieved my shoes from the closet and started toward the bed so I could sit down when I put them on, remembered that Mom would admonish me if I didn’t use a shoe horn, returned to the closet for it and bent over to put my shoes on. I kneeled down to tie my shoes but my eyes surveyed Mom’s legs, at least, as much as they could with my head tilted down. When I stood up, ready to go, Mom spoke.

“You understand we must act like nothing unnatural has happened between us, don’t you Curtis?”

I nodded. I hated the sound of that word, ‘unnatural’. It described what happened between us in prejudical terms as if it was wrong and was now over. There was an air of finality about it. Deflated, I nodded and walked into the hall and waited for Mom to come out of my room. When she turned out the light it felt like hope had been extinguished inside me.

However, as Mom walked ahead of me and I watched her carefully descend the stairs in her high heels, I decided that the white blouse and sleek back skirt was quite edgy and not at all conservative. Perhaps I had misread her mood. As long as Mom was near, my hope would never die.

Mom asked Dad if there was anything else he needed and then reminded him to give me some money so she didn’t have to pay for dinner. While Dad got his wallet out and gave me the money, Mom went into the hallway to put her coat on. I joined her after Dad gave me the dough; this was becoming quite a profitable tradition.

I waited for Mom to do up her coat before opening the door in case it was chilly outside. While I did, I thought about how naturally it now came for me to be courteous and considerate toward Mom, opening doors for her, seating her at the restaurant, that kind of thing. I liked treating her well.

I put my hand on the door knob but Mom’s coat was still partly unbuttoned and she wasn’t making any move to do it up. I started to say something but Mom put her finger to her lips to shush me. She beckoned me closer.

As I stepped near, Mom let her hands fall to the front of her skirt. I looked down and watched her fingers curl up, bunching together two handfuls of black skirt. Mom’s hands slid upward, pulling the skirt higher.

Fear drove my eyes away. Fear of being discovered by Dad sitting just around the corner watching TV. I looked back at Mom, saw the mischievous smile and sparkly eyes I had been missing so much, then looked down at the skirt’s hem which was now stretched tightly across her upper thighs. Mom started to say something but I couldn’t hear so I stepped really close and put my ear close to her mouth.

“I’m already wet,” she whispered, and pushed her lips against mine for an instant.

I was so stunned I almost fell backward into the door. Mom followed, whispering.

“Go upstairs and get my panties, the ones you hid under your pillow.”

“What?” Dad asked.

“Nothing, dear,” Mom answered. She looked at me. “Quickly,” she whispered, and then in a normal voice, “I’ll wait for you in the car.”

I bounded up the stairs and back after retrieving Mom’s panties. I had the presence of mind to wave my wallet at Dad as I passed by him on the way to the door. He shook his head.

I ran to the car. Mom was waiting by the passenger door, keys in hand. She gave them to me and waited for me to open the door. When she swung her legs into the car, I was treated to a long expanse of slender leg visible through the open coat and skirt that was still not completely smoothed down. I banged my knee on the fender running around to the driver’s side of the car.

Dinner progressed at an agonizingly slow pace. Mom made a meal out of ordering and savored every bite after it came. The process was repeated for dessert. After that, we had coffee and Mom ordered a second cup.

I have since learned that it’s one thing when you’re out on a date with an alluring woman, hoping to get lucky, but quite another when she implies at the outset that sex is assured. Hope makes the evening pass quickly but anticipation of a virtually sure thing is pure torture unless you have the maturity to savor it, which I didn’t yet have. I was too worried that I’d do something to ruin a sure thing and that’s why I tried to suppress thoughts about Mom’s panties in my pocket and wondering why she had told me to fetch them. Did she not have panties on under the black skirt, did she want me to put them on her, later, in the car?

Every gesture, the shape of Mom’s mouth and the way her lips moved when she spoke or smiled, the crook of her neck, all drove me nuts. My cock was already hard from my lecherous thoughts and Mom’s unintentional teasing made it tingle many times during the evening. I watched her every step of the way to and from the lady’s room, and when I made the trip myself, I found it difficult to walk on the way back when I saw Mom, twisted sideways in her seat with her legs crossed, one foot tapping to the music, as she watched the belly dancer.

It wasn’t Lady Alexandra but after the dance she showed up, thanked the dancer and announced that Milo’s had a special treat in store for everyone. She stopped by our table to ask Mom if she was ready.

“No, Carol. I’m not going to dance here tonight.”

“But Lisa, you promised to do the Dance of the Seven Veils. Didn’t you practice?”

“You know I did,” Mom replied. She looked at me and added, “But now I know I can’t do it for just anyone.”

Lady Alexandra looked at me. “You mean, it’s only for your son?”

Mom gazed steadily at Lady Alexandra. “I think you knew that when you first asked me to do it.”

Carol just smiled.

“I’ll give the costumes back after dinner.”

“There’s no hurry. Bring them around whenever it’s convenient.”

“They’re in the car.”

“There’s no rush,” Lady Alexandra insisted.

“We’ll bring them when I’m done my coffee.”

“Suit yourself. I’ll be waiting.”

The waiter came round not long after with some licorice candies and said the dinner was on the house, compliments of Lady Alexandra. Mom sent me out to the car with instructions to bring the bags in the trunk to Lady Alexandra’s room. I fetched them but Mom and Carol weren’t in the back, they were sitting in one of the two alcoves on either side of the entrance to the restaurant. Carol took the bag with the costumes.

“Can you give me a minute alone with your mother?” she asked.

I answered affirmatively and she motioned for me to wait in the opposite alcove so I went there and sat down, watching the two attractive women speak quietly to one another in confidence. At first, I thought it was just background babble from the restaurant but then I realized it was the conversation taking place in the opposite alcove, reaching me via the curved roof.

“I thought you had decided against it,” Lady Alexandra said.

“Oh God, Carol. I’m all over the map. First I’m cold, then I’m shamelessly coming on to him. It’s ridiculous. It can’t go on like this.”

“It is hard.”

“I just don’t want to put Curtis through the same things you said Mark went through.”

“It was different for Mark. When he got married, he was leaving me behind, alone again. Curtis will just leave you with your husband again.”

“He knows that will be leaving me alone. He’s a smart boy.”

“Yes, well, would you rather break his heart now? He loves you, as a woman. I can see it every time he looks at you.”

“I know.”

“You can’t just stop after giving him such a tasty mouthful. He’ll never forget and will always wonder what it would have been like.”

Mom looked away from Carol and she leaned toward Mom. “Oh my God, Lisa. You haven’t?” There was a shocked pause. “You have!”

Carol straightened up and glanced toward me while Mom was still looking away. She looked pleased.

“Then you must continue, Lisa, for his sake. Think of him. You can’t break it off. You must let him tire of you. You understand that, don’t you.”

“Yes, I guess so. But it’s so dangerous.”

“You’re a grown woman. You can manage it.”

“I don’t know, Carol.”

“Yes, you do. Now go. Your son is waiting to take you home.”

Mom looked across the entrance at me and smiled. I smiled back and got up when she did. As Mom walked toward me, Carol looked over her shoulder and smiled, a secretive, knowing smile. Years later, when my wife and I were visiting the cathedral in Avignon, we overheard the conversation of another couple standing opposite us at least fifty feet away as if we were standing right next to them. I wondered then if Lady Alexandra knew I could hear the conversation between her and Mom. I’m almost positive now she did.

Mom didn’t want to see the city lights on the way home but the house was dark and Dad had already gone to bed when we arrived. My hopes surged but Mom began removing her earrings as she headed for the stairs, already getting ready for bed.

“Stay downstairs, Curtis. I want to talk to you.”

There was an air of finality about Mom’s voice.

“Can’t it wait until tomorrow. I’m kind of tired.”

I wasn’t sure I was ready to hear what Mom had to say. At least, not tonight. Her tone made me think she had changed her mind about Carol’s advice. If she waited for another day, maybe she would change her mind again. Like she had said to Carol, she was all over the map. Tomorrow was another day and might be sunnier than this one.

“Well, get changed and then come back downstairs. What I have to say can’t wait until tomorrow. It has to be said tonight.”

I really didn’t like the sound of that. I followed Mom up the stairs and she seemed irked that I wasn’t staying downstairs as she asked. I watched the sway of her hips and the muscles tensing in alternate calves as if it was the last time I would be able to savor their grace. I wanted to touch her, to grasp her waist and tell her not to be silly, that she should let me hold her and kiss her. Instead, I went meekly to my room and changed out of my good clothes. I put on my pajamas and, expecting the worst, wrapped a bathrobe around me and went downstairs to wait for Mom.

I was sitting in Dad’s chair so I didn’t see Mom until her bare foot negotiated the last stair, seeming to pause in mid-air as if to allow me to appreciate its elegance one last time. My breath caught in my mouth when I noticed Mom wasn’t wearing a robe like I expected. Her hair was still done up and she was wearing the green dress!

“Stand up, Curtis.”

I got up, apprehensive and wishing I had remained in my good clothes, yet eager. Mom took my hand and led me out of the living room and into the dark kitchen. Once through the door, Mom pulled the pocket door closed, providing a sound break from the rest of the house. Did she expect me to cry or react angrily to what she had to say?

Mom walked to the breakfast island and put a foot up on the bottom rung of one of the stools.

“You need to understand something about me, Curtis.”

“I already know, Mom.”

Mom was annoyed by the interruption.

“No Curtis, you don’t,” she snapped.

I shrugged. This wasn’t going to be good, green dress notwithstanding.

“I’m going to be frank.”

If Mom had smoked, I would have pictured her taking a long drag on a cigarette and blowing smoke at me before her next words.

“I loved your father very much. At least, I thought I did, but after a few years I realized I was more enamored with the thought of being married than the act. I had been playing house and I was too uptight to enjoy myself ... in bed. I didn’t like the things your father wanted to do. I thought they were lewd but might have gone along if he wasn’t so clumsy. If he’d been more sensitive and I’d been less prudish ... but I wasn’t and neither was he, and then he quit trying. By the time I realized it, we had killed what little passion there had been in our marriage.”

Mom paused to let her words sink in, then continued. I almost coughed in the imaginary smoke.

“You father and I lived for years, with fondness, but basically just going through the motions. Your father sought satisfaction elsewhere and I pretended not to know. I was a disinterested wife but a happy mother who was glad he was distracted.”

I nodded sagely as if I knew where Mom was going with all this.

“Then I met Carol. She had lived a completely different life, consumed by a passionate relationship with her husband, but then he was gone, dead from a sudden heart attack. Her life became empty and she was ready to end it but her son saved her.”

“I thought her husband left her?” I blurted.

Mom looked surprised by my ignorance.

“No, he died. Anyway, Mark was beside himself with worry and started doing everything as Carol became more and more depressed, cooking, cleaning, even dressing and undressing her. She relied on him for everything and one night, while he was putting her to bed, he reacted to her as a woman rather than his ailing mother.”

Mom took a deep breath and I wondered if she paused to let that last bit sink in.

“Nothing happened, of course. Mark didn’t actually do anything, but they both knew what each other had felt and it made Carol feel like a woman again. She said it felt like magic.”

“Anyway, that’s when Carol began dancing for Mark. She told him it was to provide affordable entertainment for the restaurant and even believed that herself, at first, but things started to happen and, in the end, Carol couldn’t stop herself from making them happen.”

Mom took another deep breath.

“So ... I think you know how that story applies to us. I was in a rut, looking for something that could inject some excitement in my life. I started belly dancing because Jenny said it was really good exercise without being boring. So I tried it. One day, Carol was the special guest for our class and she asked me to join her for a coffee later.”

Mom paused.

“She saw something in me, she said, that would make me a great belly dancer. I wanted to believe her because I needed something new in my life so I leapt at the chance when she offered me private lessons.”

“I improved quickly under Carol’s tutelage but the time came when Carol said to get better I needed to perform. I loved dancing with others in class but was afraid to do it for people who were just watching. Carol said she had felt the same but her son, who had been so helpful with everything else, came to the rescue and she thought that would be the best option for me too. I explained that my situation wasn’t the same, that I had no restaurant I needed to provide entertainment for, but Carol suggested I simply let you ‘discover’ me practising.”