Disclaimer and etc:  The following story contains sex.  The particular flavour of sex it contains is indicated by the story tags.  If you don’t like reading about that particular flavour of sex, then don’t read it.  If you don’t like reading about that particular flavour of sex and read this story anyway, don’t fucking bitch about it.  Seriously.  

Thanks go out to Sean Flynn, a great writer without whom this story would not have existed.  Many thanks also to B, who has been a source of ceaseless inspiration and support.

Shoes Make the Mom (Part 1)

By: JValet
 
Most days, Melinda passed the second-hand shop without even bothering to look in the window.  A diorama of out-of-date dresses, threadbare chairs, and yellowing books, it was beneath notice for a female executive on the go, just another landmark between her stop and the office, between home and work and home again. 
 
She only stopped because of the woman at the window.  Pushed and pulled by the current of the after-five crowd heading home, her own long strides were brought short when she suddenly found herself nose-to-cheek with a handsome woman in her fifties, fogging up the window of "Previously Lu<3ed Stuff" like a kid at a toy display.
 
Melinda cleared her throat.  No response. 
 
"Excuse me," she said, a little louder than necessary.  The other woman blinked once, twice, shook her head, and looked at Melinda.  She flushed, stammered an apology, and vanished into the crowd.  As the bodies of commuters swirled and eddied around her, Melinda glared disapprovingly at the nose-print on the glass.  Nothing behind it seemed especially out of the ordinary: tall tarnished brass lamp with fading paisley shade; ratty rattan chair with matching ottoman; ragged-eared copy of "Valley of the Dolls" splayed open in the seat; and a pair of
 
_pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels on the ottoman, one perched atop the other.  The bright slash of colour stood in stark contrast to the rest of the faded, yellowy offerings.  They were taller than any shoes she owned, standing
 
_dominating_
 
on at least four inches of heel, with a big
 
_sexy fun cute_
 
bow flopping over the peep toe.  Melinda shifted uncomfortably and looked down at her own serviceable
 
_boooo-ring_
 
black ballet flats.  Good for
 
_nothing_
 
work, but definitely not
 
_fun sexy cute_
 
as flamboyant as the shoes in the window.  Those were
 
_perfect, perfectly pink_
 
party shoes, weekend shoes
 
_fuck-me heels_
 
for girls who
 
_know what they want_
 
had the time and money to throw away.  She shuffled her feet again, suddenly feeling every grain and particle of pavement through the thin soles of her flats, oblivious to the crowd swirling around her, to her hand prints on the plate glass. 
 
"I wonder how much they are?" 
 
*     *     *
 
Melinda sat on her bed, turning the shoe box over in her hands, feeling vaguely foolish.  Where on earth was she going to wear these?  She glanced at her open closet, surveying the wide array of black, beige, and grey fabrics hanging there.  A single forgotten summer dress hung forlorn in the back, unworn, unloved and terribly out of style.
 
She ran her hand over the lid.  "What was I thinking?"  Her brow furrowed, trying to piece together how she had gotten from the storefront to the cash to the train to her car to home to here.  It was all excited, blurry, unclear, like an early morning drive before fully waking up.  She knew she'd gotten from point A to point B and all points inbetween, but...
 
What did they even look like? 
 
She settled the box on her knees, and slid her hands around the edge of the lid, heart skipping. 
 
Just a look.  A quick one.  They were her shoes, after all.
 
"Moooo-oooom!  You home?"  Melinda jumped and snapped the box shut again.  Her face felt hot.
 
"In here, Jakey."  She settled both hands over the box, crossed at the wrist.  Moments later, the door popped open, admitting her lanky son. 
 
"Mooo-ooom, how many times do I have to tell you not to call me that?"
 
"Sorry, sweetheart--"
 
"Or that."
 
"--honey pie--"
 
"Or that."
 
"--baby bear."
 
"Now you're doing it on purpose."  He scowled, she pouted.  They both laughed, completing the ritual.  "What's in the box?"
 
"Oh, uh, nothing.  Just something I picked up on the way home from work."  Melinda tightened her grip on the shoebox.
 
"Looks like something.  What is it?"  He edged closer; she felt herself shrinking back.  Why?  Why shouldn't she
 
_show him_
 
her shoes? 
 
"Jacob, I said it's nothing, and I meant it's nothing."  Melinda trotted out her best "mom" voice. 
 
He smirked.  "Yeah?  We'll see about that."  He edged closer still.
 
"Jacob?  Jake?  Jakey?  What are you doing?  Jake!"  His left hand shot out, fingers wiggling, and connected with her side, sending a giggly thrill through Melinda.  Her fingers spasmed around the box-lid and her knees curled up as his right hand found her ribs on the other side.  "Jake!"  She laughed and kicked him in the thigh, pushing him away and sending the shoebox tumbling to the floor. 
 
"See?  I told you there was some..." his voice trailed off "...thing..."  He stared.  The
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels lay jumbled on the carpet.  Jake's face turned
 
_wonderfully adorably pink_
 
and his eyes glazed over. 
 
"See?  I told you they were nothing, just a pair of
 
_fuck me_
 
shoes."  Melinda uncurled on the bed.  "I'm not even keeping them anyway.  They're going right back on Monday."
 
He blinked, and gave her a stricken look.  "Why?  I mean, they look
 
_hot sexy cute_
 
nice.  And way better than those old black ones." 
 
"They don't go with anything I own for starters.  Besides, I haven't worn real heels in years.  I don't even know if I can stand up in them."
 
"Have you tried them on?"  He went
 
_down on his knees_
 
and picked up her shoes, fingers sliding across the velvety material.
 
"No, I, uh, I haven't yet."  Melinda felt her toes levering off one of her work shoes.
 
"You should. Just to um, make sure or something."  He looked so
 
_young adorable hot_
 
flushed.  Why?  Melinda crossed one leg over the other, and pulled up the leg of her pants, exposing a dainty, bare ankle.  She wiggled her toes.  I should paint them
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
she thought idly.
 
"Well?"  Jake's blush deepened from
 
_wonderfully cute_
 
pink to a full-on
 
_sexy hot_
 
red, and he took the proffered foot in hand. 
 
"Ready?" 
 
Melinda nodded, barely aware that she was holding her breath.  His fingers trembled as he slid the shoe over his mother's foot. 
 
As soon as her bare skin met the silky sole, an electric tingle shot through her spine, and she felt her nipples tightening underneath jacket, blouse, and bra.  She exhaled, unable to stop herself from letting out a low moan.  Looking down at her toes peeking out from underneath the floppy bow, she wiggled them again. 
 
"Wooooow," she breathed.  "They feel
 
_exciting thrilling erotic_
 
amazing!  What do you think?"
 
Jake swallowed audibly.  "They look
 
_perfect_
 
great!  I think you should stand up, though.  Walk around a bit."
 
"Good idea," she beamed down at him. 
 
"First things first, though."  Melinda flipped off her other
 
_booo-ring_
 
ballet flat, and bobbed her bare foot in his face.  "If you don't mind, good
 
_boy_
 
sir."  Jake licked his lips, and slid the second shoe onto her foot.  His fingers lingered a moment longer than necessary on her ankle.  He stayed put as she slowly rose from the bed, expecting one ankle or another to turn with the unfamiliar height. 
 
Neither did.  Melinda took a moment, pleasantly surprised to have found her balance with no help or adjustment.  She looked down at her son, who stared
 
_worshipped_
 
up at her.  She took a slow, careful step, then another, feet finding their own way, swinging naturally as pendulums, planting on the carpet one behind the other, hips finding a catwalk cadence all their own.  The shoes were
 
_perfect_
 
weightless, cozy, comfortable.  Melinda felt so tall, like a
 
_goddess_
 
model. 
 
Turning on one four-inch heel, she saw Jake kneeling on the floor, staring at her feet, licking his lips.  Arms akimbo, hips cocked, she posed for him. 
 
"What do you think?"
 
"You're perfect."  He said, distracted.  "I mean, um, they're perfect.  Great!  You should totally keep 'em!"
 
She squealed like a girl.  "You really think so?"  She felt a tingling between her thighs, and had to consciously keep herself from rubbing them together.
 
"Yeah..." his voice trailed off again, and he stared openly.  Melinda strutted over, bent at the waist, and kissed him on the forehead.  Her lips buzzed.  His skin was warm to the touch and slightly damp with a nervous sweat. 
 
"Thank you, baby-bear.  Now get out so I can get changed, and we can talk about supper, mkay?" 
 
"'Kay mom."  Jake quickly scrambled to his feet, and hurried back out, unmindful of the tent in his khakis.  Melinda watched, unaware that she was staring until he'd scurried out.  Her little boy was
 
_hung and horny_
 
growing up for sure.  They'd have to have a talk soon to make sure he
 
_knew his place_
 
wasn't doing anything silly.  She flexed her toes, and felt a sexy warmth radiate up from her feet. 
 
"You guys are keepers." 
 
 
*     *     *
 
Melinda squared her foot on the lid of the toilet, and wiggled her toes, inspecting her work.  Diamond highlights in the pink polish caught the light and shimmered brightly.  She unwrapped the towel around her hair and wiped the steam off the mirror over the sink.  A long, hot, relaxing shower had been just the thing to wash away the week and this afternoon's weird nervous excitement.  Also, the shower head had gotten a thorough test of its flexibility.  Her thighs slid together, as she remembered with a delicious shiver.
 
Finding the polish at the back of the medicine cabinet had been a pleasant surprise.  Purchased for a long-forgotten Hallowe'en party, it was still good, despite some flaking around the bottleneck, and she had spent at least fifteen minutes dolling up her feet while her hair dried.  There was a delicious, sensuous pleasure in painting each nail, feeling the slick wetness, wondering how they'd look with her new shoes. 
 
"I wonder if Jake will notice?" 
 
She wiggled her toes again.  He was so
 
_adorably sexy_
 
cute when he blushed.  Straightening up, she inspected the current state of affairs in the mirror.  Forty had sailed by a few months ago without appearing to have left so much as a note with Melinda.  She ran a hand through shoulder-length chestnut hair,  watching the lazy curls bounce in their relaxed loops.  She pursed her lips, then pouted, testing them, laughing inwardly at friends who had already been botoxed.  Even without makeup, only a few laugh lines radiated away from her hazel-green eyes, belying her brief marriage, long, angry divorce, and bitter custody battle that ended in a two-thousand kilometer move across country. 
 
"Just you and me against the world, Jakey."  She said, a well-worn mantra that summed up the last ten years or so. 
 
Melinda popped open the medicine cabinet, and drew out a container of cocoa butter.  Sitting down on the edge of her tub, she unscrewed the cap, and slid one long leg out of her robe.  She began by threading her fingers through those freshly-painted toes, and slowly, langorously, worked in the butter, relishing the chocolate scent, reveling in the smoothness of her leg, tracing the crease of her calf, following the musculature of her thigh right up to the top.  The yoga was definitely paying off.  Her taut skin shone dully under the glare of the bathroom lights.  Melinda wiggled her toes again, and bobbed her leg at the knee reflectively.  The only thing that would look better, she thought, would be a nice pair of sheer black
 
_stockings_

stockings. 
 
Stockings?  When was the last time she'd worn stockings?  Had she ever worn stockings? 
 
Melinda crossed her legs and started on the other, watching the
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
polish glitter.  Yes, stockings were just the thing.  And a nice
 
_tall sexy dominating_
 
pair of heels.  She finished her legs and stood up on tippy toes, watching her calves bulge, feeling the new position of her hips, the way her back arched to accommodate the altered center of gravity.  She ground her thighs together.  Was that lingering slickness or was it new? 
 
Her fingertips brushed against the junction between her legs, sliding in between.  The other hand reached out for the sink and some extra stability.  Still on her toes, almost oblivious to her posture, Melinda's thighs spread naturally, and she bent over at the waist, robe hanging open.  An index finger, slippery and hot with pussy cream, found her clit with the ease of practice and ground against the erect little button. 
 
She moaned softly and gripped the sink tight.  Watching her knuckles turn white as her thumb took over for her index finger, letting that digit slide deep into her dripping cunt, Melinda idly wondered if she should paint her fingernails
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
to match. 
 
*     *     *
 
Melinda sipped her coffee at the kitchen counter, watching the Saturday morning sun streaming in through the windows and basking in the afterglow of time well-wasted in the bathroom.  Underneath her robe, toes traced a trail up one of her slippery smooth calves as she plotted out her day.  Pink nails plinked softly against the ceramic.
 
"Morning Mom." 
 
"Morning baby-bear."
 
"Mooo-ooom."
 
"Sorry Jake," she said, turning around.  He was peering into the opened fridge, scratching his bare chest.  When had he developed all those
 
_sexy-cute_
 
muscles?  His hair was a tousled
 
_freshly-fucked_
 
just-out-of-bed mess.  "What are you doing today?"
 
Jake grabbed the orange juice and shut the door.  "Gary's momndad finally ponied up and bought him a 360.  I figured I'd go over there.  You?"
 
"Shopping, I think."  Melinda hopped her butt up onto the kitchen counter, the sun warm on her back.  She crossed one shapely leg over the other, and bobbed her foot gently.  Jake's eyes locked on her sparkling toes, and slowly crawled upwards.  He blinked.
 
"Shopping?  What for?"
 
"Wellll," she dragged out the 'l' and recrossed her legs, refocusing Jake's gaze.  "I was thinking that I need something to go with my new shoes, you know, the pink ones?"
 
"Ooooh," he flushed and looked at the floor. 
 
Sooooo
 
_sexy-innocent_
 
cute! 
 
"Did you wanna come with?  I could use a second opinion."
 
"To the mall?  With my mom?  Seriously?"  The pink in his cheeks retreated a little as he looked up, incredulous.
 
"Seriously."  Melinda crossed her legs again, watching his eyes drop a third time.  "Never hurts to get a guy's opinion, and you-" she jumped off the counter, and strode across the kitchen.
 
"-are the only guy-" glittering pink fingernails scratched at his bare chest playfully. "-in my life right now."  She reached up and tousled his mop.  They stood so close to one another that she could feel the heat from his body.  "We'll even do lunch.  My treat.  What do you say, baby-bear?"
 
"Um, sure, I guess."  Jake fumbled for words, flustered. 
 
"Well, I don't want to make you."  Melinda flounced dramatically into one of the chairs at the table, the flap of her robe falling open across those oh-so-long, buttery legs.  "You don't have to go."  Pink fingernails traced a pattern across her thigh.
 
"Yes!  I mean, I'd love to!  I mean, I'll go.  I mean, I'll call Gary.  Um, or something.  Okay?"
 
"Thank you, Jakey!"  She sprang out of the chair, and hugged him.  "You just made me the happiest mom in the whole wide world!"  The bare skin of his chest pressed through the ever-widening gap in her robe, and she felt him tremble a little.  She kissed her son on the cheek, lips lingering just a little longer than she'd intended.  He was blushing again. 
 
"Now go get dressed, and we'll head out, mkay?"  Releasing Jake, she gave him a playful smack on the behind.  He left, orange juice forgotten.  Melinda rubbed her thighs together.  God, why was she so fucking horny today?  Her hand dipped back between her legs as she polished off her coffee.  Just a quick rub to take the edge off. 
 
Twenty minutes later, she went back to her room, only dimly aware of the damp spot she'd left behind on the seat of the chair. 
 
*     *     *
 
Unfettered by clouds or wind, the early spring sun drove temperatures way up.  It was a day for the park, a day for a quiet stroll down the boulevard, a day to picnic or play frisbee or just lie on the grass and bask.  Birds sang.  Tiny flowers peeped out from among the branches of the trees.  Summer hearkened, and thus, of course, the mall was packed. 
 
Strolling inside,
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels tucked safely in an oversized handbag, Melinda felt dowdy.  Her capris had seemed like such a good, summery choice back home, but now they simply felt worn, plain
 
_heavy, boo-ring, constricting_
 
and above all, old.  She couldn't even bear to look at her tired old Birkenstocks.  Those poor pretty pink toenails seemed so sad trapped underneath that fat ugly leather strap.  Why had she even bought them?  Birks were for
 
_fat stupid dull_
 
old maids and university profs. 
 
Compounding the issue were the legion of teenage girls who had descended on the mall that afternoon.  Tiny skirts flitted around perfectly smooth young thighs, free of blemish or particle of cellulite.  Skintight jeans folded lovingly around pert little behinds that bounced with all the energy of youth.  Camis a size too small worn under paper-thin tees pushed and nudged and encouraged creamery-smooth cleavage to burst out.  All eyes were on these hot little
 
_sluts_
 
tarts, and they knew it.  Even
 
_your_
 
Jake couldn't help but look!
 
“C’mon, Jake.”  Melinda hooked her arm in his and half-steered, half-dragged her son across the concourse.  She fought against the rising tide of 
 
_jealousy_
 
emotion.  Yes, he was only a 
 
_boy_
 
teenager, but he could at the very least not make it so obvious he was staring at those
 
_bitches_
 
girls.  Just look at them!  All tarted up, dressed to attract all that male attention.  How could she compete, looking like 
 
_an old maid_
 
this?
 
“This’ll do, I think,” she said as they crossed the threshold into Victoria’s Secret.  
 
“Here?” Jake looked around, panicky, suddenly surrounded by luxurious, skimpy underthings he’d never quite contemplated.  “Are you sure you want me to--”
 
“Of course I am, silly,” she said, patting him on the arm.  “I told you I wanted a man’s opinion.  We’re here for clothes, not underwear.”  She pressed close to him.  “Unless you really want to help your mom buy underwear.”
 
Melinda heard his breath catch in his throat.  
 
“No!  I mean, no.  I mean that would be -- I mean, I don’t -- um, yeah.”  She giggled as her son floundered, and then parked him on the boyfriend bench next to a rack of leopard-print bra and panty sets outside the changing area.  
 
“Don’t wander off, I’ll be back.”  Racks of dresses beckoned to her from across the store.  They squeaked and squealed in protest as she pored over a wealth of fun, bright fabrics.  Peeling a floor-length
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
halter dress out of the pack, she held it up, wondering if she’d got the colour right.
 
“Hiiiiii Jake,” two voices, speaking in stereo wafted over.  Glancing back over her shoulder, Melinda spied two girls, one short, one tall, both 
 
_dyed_
 
blonde, standing not five feet from 
 
_your_
 
Jake.
 
“Oh, um, hey Beth, hey Miley.”  
 
“What are youuu doing here?”  The tall, 
 
_scrawny bitch_
 
skinny one asked, leaning in.  
 
“Oh, you know, just, um--”
 
“You’re not here with anyone, are you?”  Jake looked at the short one as she spoke, and Melinda could see his eyes glaze over as he looked down into her tits.  She wasn’t even that pretty!  Just young and overendowed.  Couldn’t he see that big muffin top pouring out over her shorts?
 
“No, nobody, just, um, my mom.”  
 
“Your mom?”  They spoke in unison again.  Melinda snorted.  Vapid 
 
_whores_
 
girls.
 
“Jakey?”  She called out, a little louder than necessary.  “Jake?  Jacob!”  When he finally turned his head,  she held up the halter dress to her body.  “What do you think?”
 
“It’s okay,” he mumbled, and turned back to Beth and Miley.  Melinda’s face felt hot.  She looked at the 
 
_mumu_
 
dress clenched in her fist.  
 
_you can beat those sluts at their own game_
 
“Why did your mom bring you here?”  Said Beth, the short one.  Her fingers played along the neck of her tank top.
 
“Um, she said she needed, you know,” Jake dragged his eyes out of her cleavage.  “A man’s opinion.”
 
“Oh, you’re, like, an expert?”  Miley giggled.  “Welllllll, we’re just picking out some swimsuits.  Maybe once she’s done picking out an old lady dress, you can help us or something.”  She flashed him an orthodontist-perfect smile.  
 
“Sure!”  He couldn’t hold back a shit-eating grin.  
 
“I’ll be back in a minute, Jakey,” Melinda ruffled his hair as she passed, on her way to a dressing room.  A number of items dangled from her hand.  
 
“Yeah, Jakey,” Beth said, laughing.  “Are you going to Jayden’s pool party next weekend?”
 
“I dunno,” he demurred, fixing his hair.
 
“Welllll,” Miley said, “we’re both going, if you wanted to, like, tag along with us.  You know, if it’s okay with your mo-om and stuff.”
 
“My mom’s pretty cool,” Jake said, loud enough for Melinda’s benefit.  “She won’t mind.”  
 
“Do you think she’d mind if you helped us pick out some suits?”  Beth asked, standing dangerously close.
 
“Oh...oh!  Um, but she said--” Beth laid a hand on his arm.
 
“It’s okay if you just step away for a sec or something.  She won’t even notice.”  She gave Jake an ingratiating smile and arched her back just a little.  His eyes dropped like a quarter in a slot.
 
“Just for a sec, yeah,” he agreed, biting his lip.  “It’ll be fine.”
 
“Jake?  Jake, honey?  Could you come here a minute please?”  Beth rolled her eyes as Melinda called out.  
 
“We’ll be over by the bikinis when you’re done with mommy,” the short girl said, giving his arm a squeeze before the pair walked away.
 
“Jake?”  
 
He sighed, watching the two teens walk away, turned around, and entered the forbidden city within the walls of the ladies’ change area.  Disgruntled, he scanned about for his mother.  A pink-nailed hand extended from one of the rooms, the door cracked open a few inches.  The index finger curled, nail glittering, summoning him.  
 
“Mooooom, I asked you not to call me--”  he nudged the door open, and the next words promptly fell off his tongue as it rolled out of his mouth.  Melinda stood in front of the floor-length mirror, twisting her slim hips this way and that, making the hem of her dress swirl hypnotically around the smooth skin of her upper thighs.  Strapless, the dress exposed a vast expanse of her smooth shoulders and lightly-muscled back, as well as the upper swell of her still-firm b-cup breasts and the light sprinkle of freckles dusted across her cleavage.  The jersey material, a deep fuschia, skimmed close to her curves, showing off the geometry of her hips and the swell of her behind.  The ruffled hem fluttered as she twisted, dancing around those oh-so-long legs perched atop her 
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels.  She twirled around once for his benefit, and the hem spun out once, eversobriefly showing off the cream-coloured bikini panties she was wearing underneath.  
 
“Well?”  She asked.  “What do you think?”
 
“Wooooooooow,” Jake said, breathless.  “That’s-- I mean, you’re-- I mean-- wooooooow.”
 
“You like it?”  Melinda turned to face him.  “It’s not too short, is it?”  She sat down on the bench, and slowly crossed her legs.  “I mean, you can’t see up my skirt or anything?”  She dangled a heel.  
 
“No!  Not too short at all.  You’re-- they’re-- it’s perfect!  Great!  Awesome!”  
 
Melinda smiled a lazy smile, and made the shoe dance on her toes.  “Mmmmm, thank you baby bear.  That’s just what I wanted to hear.  Who were those two girls?”
 
“Who?  Oh.  Them.  Nobody.”  Jake licked his lips, staring at his mother’s foot.
 
“Jaaa-aake?”  Miley’s voice rang out.  “Where are you?”
 
“You can go back out and join them if you want, sweetie,”  Melinda recrossed her legs.  “I won’t keep you here against your will.”
 
“Oh, um, I mean--”
 
“Hey Jake?  We could really use your help here.”  Beth said.
 
“But,”  Melinda stood up.  “There are a couple more things I’d like to try on, if you don’t mind helping out your old mom.”  She gestured at a small heap of clothes and shoes on the bench.
 
“Jake?  We’re waiting.”  
 
He scanned his mother’s form once more and swallowed.  “No, I’ll stay.”
 
“Good,” Melinda gave him that lazy smile again, and reached past him to shut the change room door.  His nostrils flared as her breasts brushed against his arm.  “Thank you, baby-bear.”  She gave him a lingering kiss on the cheek.  “You’re such a good son.”
 
Jake had no answer for that.  
 
*     *     *
 
They left the store arm-in-arm some time later, Melinda walking on air, Jake wearing a dazed look on his face and carrying a pair of bulging plastic bags.  Sure, she’d gone a little over budget, but it was worth it to have
 
his undivided attention
 
a new spring wardrobe.  Case in point, she swished through the mall in an abbreviated sun dress, white cotton with a pink tie-dyed pattern across the front.  The shelf bra inside presented her breasts as a swelling plateau of cleavage and the foreshortened hem showed off those marvellous gams as she clip-clopped along in her heels.  She felt about ten years younger and thirty pounds lighter.  Her old clothes (and those godawful Birks) had been unceremoniously stuffed inside a garbage can behind the cash.
 
“Hey Jakey?”  She held onto Jake’s arm with both hands and pressed in close.  In her heels she was an inch or so taller than he.  She liked being taller; it made her feel powerful,
 
_dominant_
 
in control of 
 
_him_
 
herself.  
 
“Yes mom?”  
 
“I promised you lunch, right?”  She steered him onto an escalator.  Beth and Miley were on their way down on the opposite side.  Both waved.  Jake saw neither of them, somehow distracted by the press of warm flesh against his arm.  Melinda laughed inwardly.  Having Jake’s attention all to herself was so
 
_sexy_
 
nice.  He should stay away from those silly
 
_sluts_
 
girls anyway.  Somebody clearly needed to take a firm hand with Jake, and steer him 
 
_back home_
 
in the right direction or he might end up in
 
_the wrong cunt_
 
trouble.  She flexed her toes in her shoes and felt a warm buzz suffuse through her body.
 
“Right.”  They negotiated their way past the food court and into a small Italian place tucked away underneath the stairs up to the next level.  After the waiter had a good long stare, she flashed him a sweet smile, and asked for a booth in the back.   He showed them to a seat that met with Melinda’s approval, and they slid onto the bench seats across from one another, poring over the menus.  
 
Melinda watched her son.  He looked so cute, so innocent, so 
 
_malleable submissive fuckable_
 
adorable.  
 
I need to make sure he’s shown the right way to 
 
_kneel_
 
treat a woman, Melinda thought.  
 
Leaning back into the cushioned bench seat, she lifted her feet and laid them on the seat next to Jake, crossing her legs at the ankle.  He looked up from his menu, and she gave him a slow, sexy smile.  
 
“Jake honey,” she began, “could you do your mom a big favor?”
 
“Sure!  What do you need?”
 
“Baby-bear, could you just slide my shoes off and give my feet a quick rub, one at a time?”  
 
“Oh...oh!  Um, I mean, I’ve never done it before.”
 
She rubbed one foot against his leg.  “Don’t worry about that, Jakey.  I’ll tell you what to do.  Trust me, it’s a very valuable skill.  Nothing makes a woman feel more important than having her foot rubbed by her man.”  Melinda batted her eyes.  “Please, baby-bear?  Just this once.”
 
“Okay,” he said, unsure of where to look.  
 
“Thank you Jakey,” she said, offering a brilliant smile.  “Now slide off my shoe, please.”
 
Slowly, her ankles uncrossed and Melinda lifted her left foot.  Jake’s palm was warm and slightly damp as it slid along the top of her foot, sending a shiver up her leg.  His fingers caressed the velvety surface of her shoe, and he bit his lip, hesitating just a moment too long.  
 
“Take it off, Jakey.”  Her tone was 
 
_commanding_
 
firm, but loving.
 
“Yes, mom.” He said, bowing his head a little.  Jake levered the shoe off his mother’s foot and gently placed it on the bench beside him.  “So smooth,” he mumbled, fingertips playing across her foot.  
 
Melinda tried to ignore the tingling between her legs.  
 
“Good, now take it in both hands -- like that.  Put both of your thumbs in the middle of the sole.  Yeah, right there.  Hey!  No tickling or you’re grounded, mister.  Now, press down with both thumbs...mmmhmmm right there, like that.  Now, hold that pressure, and stroke it from bottom to top, from my heel to the ball of my foot.  Oooooo yeah, right there, that’s good.  Work up a nice, steady rhythm, mmmhmmm, up and down...up and down...not too fast, baby-bear.  Now a little harder, yeah, just like that.  Now make little circles with your thumbs at the top.  Ohhhh yessss...”
 
A quiet “ahem” from the waiter broke into their private little world.  “Are we ready to order?”  He eyed the couple warily.
 
“Of course,” Melinda replied, her foot sliding along Jake’s thigh and out of his lap.  “I’ll have the pasta primavera and he’ll have the... is fettucini alfredo okay, honey?”  Jake, blushing fiercely, mumbled something in the affirmative.
 
“Done!”  She handed the menus back to the waiter, and he wandered off.
 
“We’ll have to do the other foot when we get home, baby-bear.  I’d hate to disturb the other customers.”  She giggled.  “Your mom’s a little vocal, huh?”
 
Jake smiled shyly.  “Yeah, maybe a little.”
 
Melinda winked.  “Can you do me one other teeny-tiny favor, honey?”
 
“Sure thing, mom.”
 
“I’ve only got one shoe on,” she said.  “Would you mind going under there and putting my shoe back on?”
 
“No!  No, not at all.”  All too eagerly, Jake snatched her shoe from the bench, and sank underneath the table.  Once he was down on the floor
 
where he belongs
 
Melinda slowly crossed her legs to proffer her bare foot, grinding her thighs together.  She knew she was being naughty, teasing her son, but he was just so fucking
 
_sexy_
 
cute all embarrassed and
 
_rock hard for his mom_
 
blushing so fiercely.  She just couldn’t help herself.  Soon she felt one hand on the heel of her foot, and Jake’s sweet, damp breath as he panted just a little too closely.  
 
“Do you like my nail polish, baby-bear?”  Melinda asked, wiggling her toes for him.  “They look sooo cute like that, I almost wish I could eat them, don’t you?”  His muffled reply was lost.  She bobbed her leg gently, and felt her soft little toes brush against his lips.  If she heard a not-quite-stifled groan, she made no mention of it.  
 
“You can’t see my panties or anything down there can you Jakey?  I know this skirt is pretty darn short.”  Melinda’s thighs squeezed together again, and she felt the hot slickness oozing into the scrap of fabric between them.  No coherent reply followed her question.
 
“Are you okay down there?  You’re taking an awfully long time.”  She bobbed her foot again, toes dancing across his mouth.  She felt his lips part, and Jake planted the tiniest of kisses on her big toe.  It was her turn to try and stifle a moan.  “You, um, you should hurry up sweetie before the waiter comes back.  I’d hate for him to think there was anything going on or something.”  Reluctantly, Melinda’s shoe slid back onto her waiting foot.  “Thank you, baby-bear.  Now--” her breath caught in her throat.  Should she?  It’d be so naughty to do it, but she simply couldn’t resist.  It was soooo wrong, but the thrill between her thighs was undeniable. Her voice dropped into a husky rasp, thick with arousal.  “Give your mom a kiss, and then you can come back up.”  Through the peep toe, Melinda felt her pink-painted digits each receive a slow kiss.  The toes of her other foot curled in jealousy.  
 
When he came back up, Jake’s face glistened with nervous sweat, and he was panting like he’d just finished a race.  
 
By the time their food arrived, they still hadn’t spoken a word.  
 
*     *     *
 
Melinda found herself standing before her closet again, appraising the contents.  Things had not improved.  There was ample room to accommodate more clothes: the selection had never been large.  Hanging there next to the only dress she’d hung up thus far, the rest of her clothing, all those black suits and ankle-length skirts and drab khaki pants and billowy blouses and the rest all looked so sad, sagging on their hangers, dejected and depressed and simply waiting for the end.  
 
This closet needed to be sterilized for its own good.  A mercy-killing, really.  Melinda pulled the fuschia halter-dress back off the rack and gently laid it out on the bed.
 
“Jay-keeee,” she called out, breaking
 
_him_
 
his name into a pair of drawn-out syllables.  Moments later, he poked his head in through the door.
 
“Yeah?”  
 
“Would you do me a favour, sweetheart?  Run out to the kitchen, and grab a handful of garbage bags.”
 
“Garbage bags?”  He raised an eyebrow.
 
“Big ones.”  She shooed him away with an impatient hand gesture.  “Thank you baby-bear.”  
 
When he returned, there were two piles on the floor; one a heap of drab clothing about to be put out of its misery, and the other a boneyard of hangers.  Together (Jake holding a bag, Melinda eagerly stuffing it) they filled up 3 garbage bags’ worth of clothing to go to charity or a dumpster, whichever they chanced to pass first on the following Monday.  Her old shoes quickly followed, all poured into a fourth bag, apart from her trainers, which she hemmed and hawed over for a few minutes before deciding to keep.  
 
“Done!” She said, arms akimbo.  Her closet stood empty, a blank slate waiting to be rewritten.  Mother and son, acting as an extremely short assembly line, quickly filled it back up, Jake handing her articles of clothing, Melinda inserting the hangers and arranging her new wardrobe as she saw fit.  Soon a rainbow of abbreviated skirts, bright colours, slinky dresses and more stretched from end to end, underscored by a half-dozen new pairs of heels.
 
“What about, um, this stuff?”  Jake nervously prodded an assortment of underthings lying on the bed.
 
“Oh, I’d forgotten all about it!”  Melinda grabbed another bag and held it open.  “Jakey, just open up the top-left drawer there in my dresser, and we’ll get it sorted quick as a wink!”
 
“What?  I mean, I shouldn’t, um, it’s your, uh, you know,” he looked around, and his voice dropped.  “Underwear.”
 
“Very good, baby-bear.  Your mom wears underwear too.” Melinda winked at him. “Most of the time.  I see yours every time I do the laundry, so it won’t kill you to see mine, will it?” 
 
“No, I guess not.”
 
“Good. Now, we can’t just chuck all of it, so you’ll have to go through piece by piece, mmkay?”  
 
“mkay,” Jake mumbled.  He reached in and fished out a scrap of black fabric.  “These?”
 
“You have to hold them so I can see 
 
_you sweat_
 
what they are, silly.”  She shook her head.  With a pained expression, he unclenched his fist and unfurled a pair of low-riding boyshort panties that were simply “too darling” to let go.   The next were a pair of white granny panties that quickly found their way into the garbage bag.  “Boring” grey athletic panties followed.  Pair after pair, they cut out all the “boring” or “old” or “god they’d cover my navel” underwear.
 
“See?”  Melinda said, holding a pair of lace-scalloped black bikinis up to her hips.  “These scoot just across so they won’t show in a pair of jeans.  Plus,” she turned around, “my butt doesn’t hang all the way out of ‘em.”  She waggled her behind at him.  Jake made a strangled noise.  
 
Despite his discomfort, they made fast work of it. It was easy enough to do; anything cotton hit the bag; anything high-waisted hit the bag; anything that didn’t do a good enough job of accentuating Melinda’s positives - and she was only too happy to demonstrate or explain to Jake - hit the bag.  The new stuff he poured in unceremoniously, trying not to think about size or transparency or bold prints across the behind.  
 
“What’s this?”  He held up a tissue-wrapped packet.
 
“Oooo,” Melinda said.  “I forgot about those.  I picked ‘em up at Soxxy Soxx while you were in the washroom.  Wanna see?”
 
“What are they?”  He said, suspicious.
 
“Jakey,” she said.  “You just handled alllllll my delicates.  How bad could this be?”
 
“Um, yeah but, I really shouldn’t, I mean you’re my mom ‘n stuff.”
 
“Baby-bear,” Melinda said, stroking his cheek.  “It’s nothing bad, I promise.  Just...wait here, and I’ll try ‘em on, mkay?”  She gave him a peck on the other side of the face, and dashed into her washroom with a “trust me!” 
 
“I’ve always wanted to try these,” she called out.  “I just never...I mean, I didn’t...I mean, I don’t know why I never did!”  A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened again, and Melinda’s foot snaked out, her leg curling around the doorjamb.  Calf and foot were tightly wrapped in a sheer, dark, gossamer web which stretched between her toes as she wiggled them.  Melinda slinked out of the bathroom, revelling in the sensations as the stockings caressed her thighs, the soft buzz of the material sliding together music to her ears.  
 
“Well?”  She said.  Jake stared, hands in his pockets, mouth slightly agape.  “Wait!  Not yet.”  Melinda slowly spun ‘round.  “Are my seams straight?”
 
“Wh-what?”  He came to himself after a moment. Melinda bent over at the waist and ran a hand down the back of her thigh, glittery pink fingernails tracing the line that crawled up those oh-so-long legs.  
 
“These.  My seams.  Are they straight?”
 
“Oh.  Um.  I...guess?”  
 
“You’re sure?  Take a good look.  I’d hate to look silly.”  She idly plucked at the material, letting her son get in a long 
 
_rock-hard_
 
stare.  He licked his lips.  Her fingers slid down from the top of her thigh to her knee, then travelled back again, smoothing out an invisible wrinkle.  
 
“Know what the best part is?”
 
“Um...what?  No.  No, what?”
 
“They’re stay ups!  So, no silly garter belts to 
 
_get in the way_
 
mess with.”  Straightening up, Melinda turned again and lifted the hem of her dress that extra inch, showing off the wide lacy welts of her stockings as they held onto her slim thighs lovingly.  “Come here and look.”  
 
Eyes wide, Jake stumbled over, one hand still in his pocket.  She took his free hand and laid it on the welt, pushing one of his fingers underneath the band.  
 
“See?  Stays up all by itself; it’ll stay up all day long if I let
 
_make_
 
it,” her voice was slightly thick as his hand trembled on her leg, not daring to move.  “I can’t believe how good they feel, can you?  All smooth and 
 
_sexy_
 
silky and
 
_sexy_
 
and cobwebby
 
_sexy_
 
and clingy like spider-silk.  How did I never wear these before?”  Melinda laid her hand atop his, holding it in place.  Her steaming pussy radiated heat, stirring the fine invisible hairs on the back of her hand.  Jake didn’t reply.  “I think I should pick up a couple more pairs.”  She let go of his hand, and it was a moment or two before he realized she’d done so.  He slowly withdrew his fingers, and stood there, both hands shoved in his pockets.
 
“Thanks for all the help, baby-bear.  You can go now.”  She kissed him on the nose. 
 
“No problem, mom.  Any, um, anytime.”  He left.
 
Melinda didn’t notice that her underwear drawer was ajar until she’d finished diddling herself, ten minutes later.  
 
*     *     *
 
Morning broke bright and clear through the big picture window in the living room.  Motes of dust danced in the air, pushed by the warmth of the spring sunshine.  The sun threw a warm rectangle of light onto the wood-laminate floor, and it was there that Melinda unfurled her mat.  
 
Standing straight, erect, hands by her side, she took in a deep double lungful of purifying air.  The light poured over her form like liquid honey, heating every joint and thrilling the sun-basking centres of her brain.  Slowly exhaling through her nose, Melinda slowly raised her arms above her head in salutation, pressing her palms together at the apex like a diver.  She revelled in the warmth caressing her body, feeling the air on her skin.  The new yoga togs were very liberating.  Gone were the long t-shirt and the flowing gym pants.  
 
Inhaling again, she felt the tube top stretching across her breasts, still-hard nipples scratching against the bra inside.  The tension in the smooth unblemished skin across her flat tummy fell away as she exhaled.  Melinda always relished these morning yoga sessions, though she’d never done one in the living room before.  They made her feel in control, and the control made her feel
 
_powerful_
 
centered.  
 
Exhaling, she folded at the waist, slowly collapsing, sliding her hands over the soft fabric of her leggings, feeling the musculature underneath.  At the end of the breath she was folded in half, fingers dangling by her toes, staring at all twenty
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
nails.  They twinkled up at her, and she wiggled them all.  They looked so pretty, so
 
_sexy_
 
fun, just like those 
 
_sexy_
 
shoes.  Warmth radiated out from her centre, and Melinda hung there for a minute, savouring it.  Sunlight played along the muscles of her lower back.  
 
Yesterday had been so much
 
_sexy_
 
fun, she reflected.  Torturing Jake, making him squirm in embarassment, feeling so
 
_powerful_
 
in control.  She hadn’t had so much
 
_sexy_
 
fun in years!  She had let herself become so
 
_booo-ring ugly old_
 
dull lately.  Why not let her hair down, have a good time?  Yes, there was no
 
_slave-toy_
 
boyfriend on the scene, and hadn’t been for years
 
_who needs one when you’ve got a son_
 
but that didn’t mean she couldn’t play a little.  
 
“These things are 
 
_sexy_
 
fun,” she said to her toes, quoting Dr. Seuss.  “And 
 
_sexy_
 
fun is good.”  Idly, Melinda wondered if she could do this in her
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels.  She scrunched up her toes and inhaled again, unfolding, filling up with breath.  Soon she stood ramrod straight, lungs full and back arched, perky tits thrust out impudently.  Distracted  by an itch, she dispatched her fingers to take care of the problem, 
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
nails playing along the wide gap between her navel and the waistband of the leggings; the swell of her hips rose well above the fabric.  These would never, ever do in a gym, but at home
 
_your dominion_
 
different rules applied.  
 
Letting the breath go in a long woosh, Melinda threw back her left leg and dropped into a low lunge, feeling her buttocks flex, feeling the fabric sinking in between.  Maybe she should have worn underwear this morning.  She giggled.  Different rules applied at home.  
 
“These things are fun,” she said again, adopting a mantra, “and fun is gooooood.”
 
Bare feet padded on the floor behind her.  
 
“Morning, baby-bear.”  Melinda said without looking, taking another deep breath.  
 
“Hey mom,” Jake said in a sleepy voice.  “What are you doing?”
 
“Yoga, silly.”
 
“Out here?”
 
“The sun looked so good, I decided to bask a little out here with the big window.”
 
“Um, okay.”
 
“You don’t mind, do you?  I won’t take too long.”
 
“No!  I mean, no, not at all.”
 
“Thank you, baby-bear.”  Melinda’s torso collapsed forward again with a long release of pent-up breath.  When her hand touched the mat, her other foot shot back, and her lower back lifted into the air as if dangled by a puppeteer.  Melinda rose up on her toes, and the muscles in her legs stretched deliciously; she felt her calves flex as though perched on a pair of 
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels.  
 
Jake coughed.  
 
She spread her legs a crack, and looked through.  Jake leaned against the opposite wall with affected nonchalance, one hand in the pocket of his lounge pants, the fabric shifting subtly, rhythmically.  A shiver shot through Melinda’s legs and once again she visualized herself in the Downward Dog pose, perched upon
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels.  
 
“Jake honey, can you give me a hand please?”
 
“Um, sure?”
 
“I know it’s awkward, honey, but I’m trying a new pose, and I need to make sure my hips stay steady.”  
 
“Wait, what?”
 
“Just come here.”  She took a deep breath.  Reluctantly, he withdrew his hand from his pocket, sniffed the fingers, and shuffled over.  Melinda closed the gap between her legs again, and something brushed against her behind.  “That’s it.  Right there.  Now, take my hips in your hands.”  His fingers were warm and damp against her skin.  “Nice firm grip, baby-bear.   You don’t want your mom falling over, do you?”  His grasp firmed up, fingertips sinking a little into her firm flesh.  She inhaled, flexing her toes, and her body rose an inch or two; something brushed against her behind again.  She exhaled, coming down, and felt another quick rub.  She repeated the breath three times.
 
_these things are fun_
 
Inhale.
 
_and sexy fun_
 
Exhale.
 
_is soooo good_
 
Jake’s hands trembled as she descended again.  “Okay, you ready, honey?”
 
“Y-yeah, mom.”  His voice shook.
 
“Good, now hold tight.”  She inhaled.
 
_these things are fun_
 
Exhaled.
 
_and fun is good_
 
As she let the air out through pursed lips, she began to descend, unlocking her legs, letting all the tension fall out of them.  Her knees bent, grinding her ass briefly against something, making Jake gasp.  His hands guided her hips down as she relaxed, gently falling to all fours on the mat.  He had to bend over to maintain his grip, then went down on one knee, then fell to both.  
 
“Don’t let go yet, honey.”  She said, still exhaling, a slow leak of air through her mouth, lips fixed in a pouting ‘o’.
 
“Yes, mom.  I mean, no mom.  I mean, um, yes.”
 
Melinda settled down on hands and knees, looking down at her glittering
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
nails, her hair a tumbling curtain of loose chestnut curls.  “Hold tight baby-bear.”  After another deep breath, Melinda began to arch her back down in a graceful curve, slowly bringing her head up.  At the same time, her hips cocked outward, the tight lines of her ass rolling outward towards Jake in a sensual approximation of a cat.  She ground hard against the object so insistently prodding her, and felt it slide into the crevice outlined by the skintight fabric of her leggings, just above the pouch of her pussy.  Melinda could feel the lips of her vagina swell and spread and start to ooze as they blossomed outwards.  
 
_these things are fun_
 
“Now just hold it, baby-bear.  Oooooh my, that feels good.”
 
_and fun_
 
“Mmmmmmmm...” Pushing back not so gently.
 
_is good_
 
“Ahhhhhh,” releasing her breath one last time, Melinda let go of the pose, relaxing on all fours.  
 
“You can let go now, honey.”  She said, after a few moments, looking back at him with a knowing smirk.
 
“I, um, I, yeah.  I’ll go get some breakfast.”  Jake pulled his hands from her hips, and stared down at his mother for an extra second or two, before standing up.  The tent in his lounge pants was unmistakable.
 
_these things are fun_
 
What was that hanging out of his pocket?  Something black and pink dangled briefly before Jake jammed his hand back in.
 
_and fun is good_
 
*     *     *
 
Wrapped in a towel, dripping on the carpet, Melinda laid out her
 
_arsenal_
 
clothes for the day: an abbreviated khaki skirt in some sort of melon colour that would skim very nicely over her trim thighs and show off the curve of her behind; a loose tunic in thin white linen which would drape dramatically over her firm breasts, and sported a deep cutaway in the back, showing off a vast expanse of skin.  She poked about in her panty drawer, looking for a pair of sheer black boyshorts with melon-pink scalloped lace around the legs to match her skirt.  After a few minutes, a slow, predatory smile spread over her face.  
 
Tying her hair back in a pony tail, she wriggled into the skirt, threw on the blouse, and stepped into her heels.  Time to have a little 
 
_sexy_
 
fun.  Melinda clip-clopped down the hall to Jake’s room.  His door was closed, and muted rock blared through the wall.  She knocked once.
 
“Jakey?”  No reply.
 
“Baby-bear?”  She knocked again.
 
“Jacob?”  Her hand fell on the doorknob.  It wasn’t locked.  She turned it slowly, and pushed the door open a crack.  Melinda peered inside: only the last two feet of Jake’s bed was visible, and consequently his bare feet as he lay on his back.  She couldn’t hear him over the music, but Melinda could see her son’s toes curling occasionally.  
 
A thrill ran through her, from her toes to her head.
 
_look at him_
 
Melinda watched, unable to tear her eyes away as her son’s boxspring squeaked.
 
_that’s you_
 
His toes curled again.  She heard him mumble something.
 
_you did that_
 
His heels dug into the mattress and his knees bent.
 
_you made him_
 
One of his legs kicked briefly.
 
_you naughty girl_
 
His other foot pressed so far down the mattress protested loudly.
 
_naughty mommy_
 
She watched his hips buck upward for a long moment.
 
_he can’t help himself_
 
They crashed back down, and the boxspring continued to chirp.
 
_can’t stop himself_
 
Only then did Melinda notice that his pants had been shoved down around his knees.
 
_one look is all it takes_
 
Her bare thighs slid against one another.
 
_even though you’re his mother_
 
Melinda’s toes tingled.
 
_he can’t resist you_
 
She gripped the doorknob tight.
 
_he’s so easy_
 
Jake’s mumbling got a little louder.
 
_he’ll fall so easy_
 
Why was she so warm?
 
_so much fun to make him_
 
Melinda’s heart pounded.
 
_make him yours_
 
She could hear Jake more clearly, now.
 
_where he belongs_
 
“Mom...”
 
_at your feet_
 
“Oh god, Mom...”
 
_between your legs_
 
Melinda gasped, and took a step back from the door.  Her head spun.  Her thighs were damp and hot and she could feel her pussy twitching.  She let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding since cracking the door open.  A smile crept over her face.
 
_have a little fun_
 
Taking hold of the knob, she knocked on the door again.
 
_it’s just a little fun_
 
“Jakey?”  She said, far louder than necessary.
 
_and fun_
 
“Just a sec!” He shouted in a strangled voice.  Fabric rustled frantically.
 
_is good_
 
Melinda pushed open the door as the waistband of her son’s lounge pants snapped against his stomach.  A sheen of sweat coated his upper body, and her gaze raked over his lean, muscled form as he stood in the middle of his room, a typical teenage midden of discarded clothes, books, video games and forgotten foods.  She breathed in deeply of the smell of virgin teen.
 
“Um, hi!”  Jake said with a nervous grin, chest heaving.  
 
His mother stepped inside, careful not to disturb a pile of shirts of dubious vintage.  
 
“Baby-bear, you have got to clean up in here,” she scanned the floor, unable to restrain the instincts of her mom-brain.  “God, there’s shit everywhere.”  Melinda bent at the waist, and scooped up a t-shirt, offering a brief glimpse of her bare back.  She sniffed it, and her tip-tilted nose wrinkled.  “Well, I know how somebody is spending his afternoon.”
 
“Aw, mom,” he said.  “It’s Sunday.  I just wanna-”
 
“I know what you ‘wanna’ do,” she gave her son a knowing look.  He held her eyes for a fraction of a second, then hung his head.  
 
“I’m sorry, Jakey.  I didn’t come in here to yell at you, but you’ve got to 
 
_obey your mommy_
 
do what your mom tells you, mkay?”
 
“mkay, mom,” he mumbled.  
 
“And if you’re a 
 
_good boy_
 
good boy, maybe you’ll get a treat.”   She stepped closer to him, and ruffled his hair, damp with sweat.  He was rank with the sweet odour of virgin boy, and it made her mouth water.  
 
“Aw, mom, I’m not six.” He protested mildly.
 
“No, baby-bear, you’re certainly not six anymore.  You’re eighteen now, almost all grown-up, so
 
_fuckable_
 
big and strong.  We’ll have to make sure it’s a grown-up treat, mkay?”  She leaned in close and kissed him on the cheek.  He trembled.
 
“mkay.”
 
“That’s my Jakey,”  Melinda pulled back again and gestured expansively.  “Now, before you get started on this sty, I came in looking for something.”  
 
“Oh?”
 
“Yep.  When you were putting my underthings away yesterday, you didn’t happen to see a  pair of--”  She feigned surprise, and stooped again.  “These!  I was looking for these.”  Melinda held up her prize, sheer black fabric and melon-pink lace stretched between two index fingers.  “How did they get in here?”  
 
“Oh.  Oh!  Um, I found them on the floor outside, and picked them up and I was gonna give ‘em back to you, honest.  I um, well, you know, I...” Jake groped for words, blindly pawing his way towards an excuse.
 
“...you put them in your pocket and forgot about them?”  Melinda finished for him, grinning.  
 
“Yeah. Yeah!  That’s what happened.”  
 
“Well, thank you for picking them up, sweetheart.  Do you mind turning around for a sec?”  She spun one finger in the air
 
“What?”
 
“I’m going to put them on, silly.  Why do you think I was looking for them?”  
 
“Oh.  What?  Right here?”
 
“Well, as soon as you turn around, yes.” She laughed, rolling her eyes, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for a mother to slide into a pair of slinky panties in her son’s bedroom.
 
“I, uh, okay.”  Jake turned around, facing his dresser, staring into his wall-mounted mirror.  He watched as Melinda stepped into her panties, one high-heeled foot after another.  He watched as she slowly pulled them up the length of her toned legs.  He watched as she rucked up her skirt just a little around her thighs, offering a glimpse of the darkness beyond and the drops of moisture on her smooth skin.  Melinda ran a hand between her legs as she snuggled the panties up against her leaking pussy.
 
“Mmmm... much better.  You can turn around now, baby-bear.”  He did as she asked, and got another lingering kiss on the cheek for his trouble.  “Let me know when you’re done in here, and I’ll work out a nice grown-up reward for you, mkay?”  
 
“mkay.  I mean yes.  I mean yes, mom.”  
 
“Good boy,” Melinda said, and stroked his face once before turning and leaving.
 
Jake stood there a few moments longer, thinking that if he moved or even breathed, the dream would end and he’d wake up.
 
*     *     *
 
Sometime that evening, four garbage bags, a full vacuum cleaner, and a mop bucket later, Josh poked his head out of his door.
 
“Moooo-oooom, I’m done!”  He shouted.  
 
Jake was surveying his handiwork when the clip-clop of heels resounded on the floor behind him.
 
“Good job, honey.”  Slender arms encircled his waist, and moist lips planted a kiss on his cheek.  He turned in his mother’s arms, and noted that she was wearing an apron, the hem of which extended past the hem of her skirt.  Melinda released him, and took a step back, looking around.
 
“Very, very good job.” She said with a pleased smile.  “You could almost have somebody else in here without dying of embarrassment.  I think you’ve earned your treat.”  Melinda stood there, arms akimbo, one hip cocked.  
 
“What kind of treat?”  Jake said, cautious.
 
“Well,” she said, stepping towards him.  “I know you’re kind of nervous around girls, so I thought it might be useful if you went on a practice date.”
 
“A practice date?”
 
“Yep.”  Melinda nodded.  “That way you can learn
 
_your place_
 
the ropes so that you’ll be ready for 
 
_a real woman_
 
the real thing when it happens.  You don’t mind dating a slightly older woman, do you?”  She ran a finger down his chest.
 
“Um...” he hesitated. “That depends?”
 
“Don’t worry, baby-bear, I’ll be gentle.”  Melinda giggled.  “Besides, it’ll be a stay-at-home date so you don’t even have to be embarrassed by being seen with your old mom, mkay?”
 
“mkay,” he mumbled.
 
“Of course, the best thing about stay-at-home dates,” Melinda said, “is that you don’t have to worry about getting your date home on time.  You can stay up alllll night, if you 
 
_can_
 
want.”
 
“Yeah,” Jake agreed, then, “wait.  What?”
 
“Now then,” she tugged at his t-shirt.  “You get a shower and dress up, and I’ll meet you here in an hour, okay?”  
 
“Yes mom.  I mean, okay.”
 
_good boy_
 
“Good boy.”  She ruffled his hair.  “Off you go.”  Melinda gave her son a swat on the behind, and sent him on his way.  
 
Jake showered and dressed with all the nervous energy of a teenager on a first date, ever.  Back in his room, he paced back and forth, occasionally taking a seat on the bed only to jump up at the first imagined sound.  The edgy teenager smoothed down the leg of his khakis, trying to keep his semi-stiff member from popping up.  He rolled it around until it pointed straight up, and pulled his dress shirt out of his pants as camouflage.  
 
The hour passed slowly as he awaited his mother’s arrival, occasionally “adjusting” his erection to keep it under control.  Jake had just unzipped to make some additional “adjustments” when there was a soft rap at his bedroom door.  Trembling fingers pulled his zipper back up, and then the teenager opened the door on his “date”.  
 
Melinda was leaning on the doorframe, one hand sliding up the wood, smiling down on him from atop her 
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
heels.  Lazy chestnut curls tumbled down to her shoulders, where a close-fitted red jersey dress draped across her lean body, skimming over her slim lines, deep-cut neck showing off the silken valley of her pert breasts,  flaring out over her narrow waist and the curve of her hips as she cocked them.  
 
Pink lips, slick with gloss pursed and blew him an airy kiss.
 
“Hi,” Melinda said.  “I’m here to pick up my
 
_toy_
 
date.”  She stepped inside in a close, warm cloud of some dark perfume.  “I’m told he’s a handsome
 
_fuckable_
 
young
 
_malleable_
 
man
 
_boy_
 
who goes by the name of Jacob.”  She leaned in, and ran her fingers through his hair.  
 
“Um, h-hi,” words tried to stumble their way past Jake’s teeth, tripped over themselves, and choked him momentarily.  
 
“It’s traditional,” Melinda whispered in her son’s ear, “to offer your 
 
_mistress_
 
date a compliment when you see her.  Try again, baby-bear.”  Her lips felt slippery and slick as they brushed his earlobe.  She took a step back and did a slow spin for him.
 
“You look gorgeous, mom.  Beautiful.  Perfect”  He said with all the earnest vigor of a teenager.  “Like a...”
 
“Like a
 
_sex goddess_
 
what?”  She prompted him as he groped for the word, posing in the doorway, offering an inviting smile.
 
“Like a...like a model or a movie star or something.”  The words tumbled out as he blushed hotly.
 
“Much better, baby-bear,” Melinda swept in and hooked her arm in his, pressing close.  They walked out together, although Jake found himself trotting along to catch up with her long, powerful strides.
 
“Now then,” she said.  “We’re going to 
 
_fuck_
 
have a nice candlelit dinner, and afterwards we’ll 
 
_fuck_
 
snuggle up with a movie or maybe I’ll show you how to 
 
_fuck_
 
dance properly on a date.  How does that sound?”  She looked at him expectantly, and Jake withered under his mother’s gaze.
 
“Great!  That sounds, um, great.”  He couldn’t keep the nervous tremor out of his voice.  
 
“Good boy.”  Melinda said, and pressed closer as they walked into the dining room.  Jake adjusted something in his pocket.
 
Mother and son seated themselves at the table, where a Greek salad had already been laid out and candles lit.  They proceeded with dinner in a lopsided fashion, Melinda serving and doing most of the talking, while Jake tried to keep up and not spill anything.  Salad was followed by a grilled chicken entree (snow peas on the side) and an offer of a dark, sweet wine.  Only human, and a teenager to boot, he accepted and felt the alcohol heat flush through his body, making his head spin.  
 
Melinda laughed inwardly as she watched the wine having its way with her son.  Just one glass and he was already 
 
_malleable vulnerable easy_
 
buzzed.  She refilled his glass and they chatted on.  Eventually, the dinner dishes were collected and stacked elsewhere, and she served dessert -- strawberries and cream.  
 
By this time, Jake was having serious trouble keeping up his end of the conversation.  The wine wasn’t helping much, making his brain mushy, muzzy, and warm.  Watching his mother flicking the cream off the narrow end of a ripe red strawberry simply dissolved whatever words were on his tongue.  There was simply no retrieving his train of thought as her slick glossy lips parted around the fruit, folded over its swelling surface, and let a dribble of juice escape as she bit down, mixing with the cream and splattering against her cleavage.  Melinda wiped it off with an index finger, and gently slurped on the digit.  
 
“Are you okay, baby-bear?”  She asked innocently, lapping at another strawberry.
 
“I’m fine,” Jake said as his brain caught up.  “Just...warm.”
 
“Poor Jakey,” Melinda cooed as she refilled his glass again.  “Why don’t you go out into the living room and cool off a bit?  I’ll clear up these dishes, mkay?”
 
“mkay.”
 
“Good boy.”  She scooped up her bowl and his, and clip-clopped out into the kitchen as he left for the living room, feet meandering more than he’d like.  He flumpfed into the couch, holding a half-full wineglass.  
 
“So,” Melinda said as she strode in.  “Shall we dance, or do you want to pop in a movie?”
 
“Um, I’m not sure dancing is such a good idea right now,” Jake said.
 
“Oh, baby-bear,” his mother pouted.  “All that wine went straight to your head, didn’t it?” She sat down next to him on the couch and stroked his forehead.  “Poor Jakey.  Not quite grown up after all, maybe.  Don’t worry.  Mommy will always 
 
_own you_
 
be here for you.”  She pressed her lips to his forehead, leaving behind a trace of pink gloss, briefly enveloping him in a cloud of perfume, his chin brushing against the inside curve of her breasts.  “I’ll pop in a movie, and we can cuddle on the couch, mkay?”
 
“mkay,” he said, voice muffled by his mother’s chest.  
 
“Good boy.”  Melinda stroked his hair, and held him in place for a few moments.  She released him, and Jake settled into one corner of the couch while she dithered with the TV and the Blu-ray player.  
 
“Now,” she said, sliding a disc into the player.  “One of the most important things to remember about at-home dates is that you’re not restricted to just holding hands, like you would be in a movie theater.”
 
“Huh?”  Jake asked through a haze.  “Like what?”
 
“Watch,” Melinda said, as she sat down on the couch next to him.  Lifting his arm, she curled into him, her head on his chest, breasts rising out of the deep ‘v’ of her dress.  Melinda’s legs stretched out to the other end of the couch, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high on her trim thighs.  She listened to his heart pounding in his chest and smiled.  
 
“See?” She said.  “This is much more...intimate. You don’t mind, do you baby-bear?”
 
“No!  I mean, no.  That’s cool, mom.”  He tried to stay calm as his mom’s hand came to rest on his leg.  They sat there a while, looking at the TV but not watching.  Jake breathed deep of Melinda’s perfumed hair, and couldn’t decide which made his head spin more: the scent or the wine.
 
“Are you having fun, baby-bear?”  Melinda asked.
 
“Oh.  Um.  Fun?  This is pretty nice,” Jake dithered.
 
“But not fun?” She looked up at him and pouted.  “Your old mom’s not as fun as a real date?”
 
“What?  I don’t, I mean, I’ve never, I mean I don’t know.”  
 
“Oh I know, honey.”  She arched an eyebrow.  “There’s a lot more fun you can have on a real date.”  She looked thoughtfully at him.  
 
“Baby-bear,” Melinda said, “have you ever kissed a girl?”  She licked her lips.
 
“Oh yeah,” he bragged.  “Totally.  Of course.  Pretty much, yea.  Sort of.  More or less.  Kinda.  Not really. But I got close this one time.”
 
Her face lit up as she unfolded out of the crook of his arm.  Stroking the side of his face, Melinda said, “oh Jakey, that’s the most important part.  You don’t want to let a girl down on your first date.”  
 
“Um, yeah but I can’t, um, you know--” he flailed one hand by way of explanation.  
 
“Practice?” she asked, her voice dropping low as she leaned in.  The room whirled around him.  Melinda watched his face.
 
_do it_
 
She bit her lip.
 
_do it now_
 
She leaned closer, lips brushing against his ear.
 
_you want it_
 
“Nobody can see you on an at-home date, Jakey.”
 
_he wants it_
 
“You’re my--”
 
_just a little fun_
 
“Mommy?” She hissed in his ear.
 
_these things are fun_
 
He shivered.
 
_and fun_
 
Her glossy lips folded over the end of Jake’s earlobe.
 
_is good_
 
He couldn’t restrain a low moan.
 
_sexy fun_
 
She sucked his earlobe for a moment, and pulled back, looking into his face, his eyes glassy, his mouth open.
 
_so ripe for the plucking_
 
Melinda pulled her son’s face close.
 
_take him_
 
She felt his breath on her lips.
 
_make him yours_
 
Soft pink gloss mingled with his saliva, sexy-slick alchemy that bewitched their senses.  
 
_feels so good_
 
His mouth unresisting as hers played on it.
 
_feels so right_
 
Slippery tongue sliding past.
 
_you want this_
 
An open moan from somewhere between their bodies.
 
_you need this_
 
She pulled back, sucking gently on his lower lip before releasing it with a smack.  Melinda smiled wolfishly down on her son.  “Having 
 
_sexy_
 
fun yet?” She asked as she moved to straddle his lap.
 
“Mom, what--”  
 
Melinda’s fingers began to pluck at the buttons on his shirt, and she bent low again.
 
“Don’t argue with me, 
 
_fucktoy_
 
little boy,” she said with a throaty laugh.  She rubbed a thumb over his gloss-stained mouth, and took it again in another deep kiss.  
 
_he tastes so good_
 
They parted again.  One of his buttons popped off.  “I know you want this,” she hissed in his ear.  “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”  Her fingers clambered inside his shirt, 
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
fingernails scratching his chest, playing with one of his nipples.
 
“What were you doing with mommy’s panties, baby-bear?” She asked, laughing in his ear.  Melinda began yanking the shirt down his arms.  
 
_so young so strong_
 
His protests were weak and short-lived.  “It’s okay, Jakey,” she sucked on his earlobe again for a moment, cutting him short.  “I understand.  It’s soooo hard to resist when your mommy shows up with her 
 
_fuck me heels_
 
fuck me heels, looking like a fucking
 
_sex goddess_
 
sex goddess on the prowl.”
 
“Oh God,” he mumbled, “I-I tried so hard not to, mom.  I really did.”
 
“I know, Jakey.  You’re such a good boy,” Her hips rocked on top of his.  “Mommy loves her good boy.”  She took hold of his hands and placed one on her hip while the other palmed her left breast.  “Can you feel how much I love my good boy, baby-bear?”  His fingers instinctively squeezed, then tugged at her erect nipple.  Melinda slid her other breast out of its confines, and held Jake’s head to her chest, his lips seeking the angry 
 
_pink pink, perfectly pink_
 
nubbin.  She ground her hips, riding the lump in his khakis.  
 
_take it out_
 
Melinda’s fingers fumbled with his belt.
 
_take him_
 
She reached inside Jake’s pants and eased out his rampant erection, tall and throbbing and oozing sweet precum.  Her hand wrapped around it and squeezed.  She felt him gasp and slurp harder at her nipple.  
 
_TAKE HIM_
 
It slid inside so easily.
 
_take him_
 
In moments she felt her pert behind resting on his testicles.
 
_he’s yours_
 
Their bodies rocked in primordial rhythm.
 
_so good_
 
She gasped in short, sharp breaths as her son’s cock stabbed upwards.
 
_so right_
 
Lean sweaty bodies wrapped around each other.
 
_like it should be_
 
His cock swelled inside her.
 
_like it will be_
 
His hips pumped as she rolled her pubis over the head of his dick, forcing him to moan incoherently around her breast.
 
_every day_
 
Melinda rode the pleasure, back arched, head thrown back.
 
_FOREVER_
 
The scream escaped from the bottom of her self as her clasping grinding silky cunt spasmed and grasped at her son’s cock, a torrent of sweet motherly cunt cream flooding her thighs and his lap.  She almost didn’t even feel the rhythmic tattoo of gushing cum as he reached his orgasm at the same time, Jake’s cock throbbing and spurting in time with his pounding heart.  For a moment they locked in a tableau of incestuous ecstasy, heedless of taboos, mindless of anything apart from their thrilling bodies.  
 
Then, it was over.  
 
Melinda fell back on the couch, pussy pulsating, Jake’s cum dripping down her thigh, oozing into the crack of her ass.  One heel slid off, then the other, as she got comfortable.  
 
Reality crept in.  
 
“What did we do?” 
 
No. 
 
“What have _I_ done?” 
 
Jake’s world was still spinning as his mother ran from the room, shoes forgotten. 
 
END OF PART ONE
