During the much too long interval between my Son's last visit, I hadn't spent my solitary hours brooding or wallowing in the residue of self-pity brought by two divorces in the last 4 years. Now, I had a tangible reconnection with my only child. Now there was a chance to begin to know who each other was, and perhaps know who ourselves were. That was the real power of family. I knew that Bobby and his father were next to utter strangers at this point in their lives. What a pity to be in the company of a parent and not have a clue of what the other thought, or what they wanted from the relationship at this advanced stage.

But my mind was far from barren when it came to picturing my Son and imagining what his needs were, what his thoughts were, from the most mundane little things like favorite deserts to what he had wanted in a female partner, a woman he could connect to and share his innermost thought - woman that he had not secured in his misbegotten marriage. It was obvious that Susanna (her real name.) was about the furthest thing from a match. How cruel of her to deceive him into marriage.

Well, here we were again just hours from another reunion. That word "reunion" played in my head constantly. Had I thought any more about that night in my bed and the stark physical intimacies that unfolded as if willed by a guiding hand? Oh God, yes. Had I wrapped my mind around the gravity of our seemingly innocent behavior. The sighting of his penis in the folds of his robe, the gravitational pull that brought our half naked bodies closer, the breath of his mouth on my face, his closest hand almost incidentally pressing into my inner thighs, my own moist hand untimidly finding the warmth  of his penis and enfolding that firm burnished warmth. 

I ask the questions you would ask if you were sitting across from me. Bobby had come on my stomach, Good Lord! Of course I thought incessantly about the sex we had that night. Well what else would you call it? And even after he was asleep (or feigning sleep), I was as inebriated by hormones washing through my pelvis as I was from the alcohol tricking my brain.

Bobby arrived in time for us to go out on the back deck and watch the Sun setting over the Golden Gate Bridge. Somehow, oddly, silence seemed to imprison us. Nerves. But if you are going to share a prison cell, sooner or later silence will be broken. We drank before dinner. We drank after. In the kitchen, I rinsed the dishes. And I savored a hot chill when he came up behind me and gently splayed his hands over my tummy and pressed into my bottom, whispering "Hi Mom" in my ear. I asked him to go to his room (the front bedroom) and change into his robe. After I had primped in my boudoir and slipped on a lavender silk robe that just wanted to flow and cling to my ample middle-age curves (don't blame Dottie!), I rejoined (that word) Bobby on the living room sofa. Hip to hip, we settled in to view the video he had brought and wanted me to see with him. Indecent Proposal.

Having to do with a millionaire paying a struggling young architecture professor $100,000 to sleep with his wife. In order, Robert Redford, Woody Harelson, and Demi Moore. With the brandy and the movie making me deliciously toasty, I felt a long-missing sense of comfort and safety come over my being. My Son was the cause...of this sensuality, of this effect.

When the dramatic erotic scene of Mr Redford rolling in the sheets with Miss Moore had passed, I leaned my head against my Son's shoulder, and murmurred...I slurred..."I don't need old Robert Redford. I have my own Robert movie-star right here". Bobby slowly turned his face to mine, so close he was a blur. I felt his lips meet my boozy puckered mouth...felt our lips oval to form a seal...sensed a hot tempest of our breaths swirling in this captured finite space..our tongues embracing...entwining, gurgling hotly into each other.

It may have lasted a minute. It seemed like an eternity. And when we parted and straightened up, we avoided eye contact, and fell silent again. But I could not prevent my maternal instinct to cautiously sneak a look at that object I saw rising out of his robe. Oh, my friends, look I did. As long as nothing was being done to put it away like a respectful son should, I found my glance burning into the long, thick tawny cobra-head cock glamorously illumined only by the ambient light of the television. He had to know. And I had to know if he was thinking his lonely, horny old sexy mom was disrepectful too...or if she was the answer to all his problems...all his longings and desires.       

                                                                         To be continued...