And honestly, I didn’t have an answer for him.
I thought about the genetic issues that had been understood for a long time, but I certainly wasn’t going to have a child with him. Not that I could have any more children anyway.
I thought about the taboo but then thought that was tied to genetics.
I thought about the law, that it would be illegal probably but, well, that didn’t make a lot of sense to me since he was so much the man of the house anyway.
I realized I was crying when he reached up to sort of brush the tears away.
And that kiss, that first true man-woman kiss, with tear salt taste and snot slickness was the best kiss I have ever experienced.
“Okay Davey,” I said, “I need to, as we girls say, freshen up and this drink is empty and I’m hungry so if you would work your cooking magic I would like that please,” and I handed him my
now-empty glass.
I was as sober as I had been for months as I walked away, and I was aware he was watching me and I could not resist putting a little extra swing into my ass as I walked away.
In the bathroom, though I almost collapsed again.
That woman in the mirror couldn’t me be. God, I wasn’t yet 40 and she was 50 if she was a day.
My once black hair was clearly showing the silver that was a trademark of the women in our family.
Those slightly crooked front teeth seemed to be jumping out of my face.
I pulled my clothes off and stood naked, looking in the mirror.
Not that bad.
I was always heavy-chested although my boobs fell after Davey was born. I overflowed my C cup but, well, kind of like the cleavage.
No waist. Never had one.
My pubic hair is sparse and black and very straight and coarse.
My lips sort of peek out between my legs.
I showered and washed my hair. Scrubbing myself hard.
When I felt the stubble, hell, the hair under my arms I wondered how long it had been since I had shaved. So I did my armpits and my legs.
I screamed when I pushed the shower curtain back and started to step out.
Davey was standing there, grinning and staring and holding a towel.
And then I got the giggles.
I was howling with laughter as he dried me off. I squealed when he did my ribs. I won’t deny that I enjoyed the way he did my boobs, slowly and carefully. As the towel worked down my belly I had a moment’s second thought but there it was again, what my daddy used to say — “in for a penny in for a pound” and I stood quietly as he dried me down there.
Clean and wonderfully, thoroughly, completely dry I pushed him out as I walked down the hall to the bedroom.
“Shoo,” I giggled, “finish making something to eat.”
I did accept the screwdriver he had made gratefully.
And for the first time in weeks, I sat at my little makeup table to actually try to look nice.
I brushed my hair furiously to get it into some kind of shape but it was too wet to actually do anything with.
But my face.
When I look in the mirror I see a librarian. A grumpy librarian at that.
But I have been told by enough people whose judgment I trust that I am pretty that I accept it.
So I went to work to do the best with what I had.
Twenty minutes later, face done, I got into my nightie drawer for the first time in months.
I normally wore a nylon gown to bed but, well, “in for a penny” and all of that.
I selected a pale blue peignoir that I hadn’t worn in years. A bra and panties set went with it and they were so sheer you could read a newspaper through them. Then the gown itself, a mid-thigh number. And the long filmy robe over the top.
I looked in the mirror and said, out loud, “God Mary, you whore, are you really doing this?”
But of course, I was.
“In for a penny….”
July 4, 1961
Okay, the line is well and truly crossed.
That first night still lingers in my mind.
I finished the sandwich and my second screwdriver and was sitting there smoking, enjoying the strong menthol of my Kool cigarette and watching him do dishes and then make me another drink and opening a beer while I had what may be the last sane conversation I ever had with myself.
“It’s not too late,” I said to myself, taking another drag on the cigarette and watching him
“I know that,” I replied to myself, “but I don’t know that I want to stop.”
“He’s your SON,” I told myself and literally stomped my foot on the floor for emphasis.
“Goddamit, I KNOW that,” I replied.
“Mom?” he said, standing there and holding my drink in his hand. “Are you okay?”
I giggled softly.
“Yes honey, and thank you,” I said, taking a big slug from the drink.
He was smiling oddly and I looked up at him. “What?” I said, a bit crossly, still thinking about my conversation with myself.
“It’s just that,” he started and then took a breath and continued, “that you are so damn beautiful.”
And just like that, he had me. That simple compliment to someone that hadn’t had many compliments in a long time was enough.
I stood then, and took both of his hands in mine,
“Are you sure?” I said and before he could reply, “Are you absolutely CERTAIN you want this?”
He was grinning then.
“Seriously?” He said. “You seriously have to ask?”
“Yes,” I said.
“Yes,” he replied.
“You can’t tell anyone, you know that don’t you?” I said.
“Well of COURSE!” he replied and stepped closer, his hands slipping under the long peignoir, finding my waist under the filmy silk and bringing goosebumps to my arms.
He stood like that, his eyes holding mine, and then leaned in so slowly that I couldn’t wait and leaned to him to complete the kiss.
And to hold the kiss.
And to feel his hands on my back now, exploring, stealing my breath.
I finally broke the kiss and took his hand, leading him into the bedroom.
It felt strange, still early in the afternoon, but by then I couldn’t wait.
I unbuttoned his shirt as he stood there. I was pleased that he was trembling a little. Pleased that I wasn’t the only one so nervous that I had shaky fingers.
And then it was my turn to be on my knees before him as I worked on his shoelaces and then his shoes and socks. Just as mine had been before, his hands were on my shoulders for balance.
I took a deep breath and pulled the shorts that were his school outfit down, leaving him in only his shorts.
I touched his erection through the material and then pulled them off of him.
His erection was thin, a man’s and yet still young, and VERY hard.
I stood and mirroring his movements of the other night turned down the covers and held his hand as he got into bed.
And then I took a deep breath and slowly, making a show of it, undressed for him.
I have never done anything more exciting, more arousing, or more embarrassing in my life.
I was aware of his staring and I was enjoying it as I allowed the peignoir to slide off my shoulders and arms to pool on the floor.
I watched his eyes watching my hands as I reached down and slowly pulled the nightie up and over my head, and then dropped it.
I was fascinated at the way his eyes locked onto my boobs as I shrugged the straps off and then reached back to unhook the bra and drop it. And then the panties so that I stood naked before him.
I couldn’t resist striking that classic pinup pose, back arched, left knee lifted, and one arm above my head.