A Mommy's Cure for Bad Dreams

Samantha relaxed in the tub, enjoying her warm bubble bath while getting delightfully smashed on a bit of wine. She had been drinking more often as of late. More than she should have maybe, but it had been a long and painful journey since her divorce from the kid's father.

After remarrying, her second, and much happier marriage, ended when her husband died in a tragic car accident, leaving her to raise her three children, Bobby, Riley, and Melissa from the first marriage by herself.

The bathroom was lit by a plethora of small tea light candles, giving it a soft romantic glow helping to make both her thoughts, and her mood, warm and fuzzy. Making sure her thoughts would continue to remain warm and fuzzy, there was a bucket of ice sitting next to the tub with the bottle of Pinot in it.

Sighing, she took another large swallow of her wine before setting it aside. Draping a wash cloth over her eyes, she sank down into the warm bubble bath.

She had maybe been catnapping for five or ten minutes when there came a soft knocking on her bathroom door.

"Mom . . . are . . . are you in there?"

Samantha's eyes flickered open as she sank further down under the protective screen of bubbles which covered nearly the entirely of her whole sunken tub.

"Yes, come in, hon," she called out to him.

The bathroom door swung open then partially as Bobby poked his head in the room.

"Oh sorry Mom, I didn't know you were taking a bath. I guess I can talk to you later."

"Hey you didn't wake your little sister up did you? She is sleeping in my bed, again."

"No. I was quiet and she is still sleeping soundly. I checked."

Bobby started to shut the door before Samantha, suspecting by the mere tone of her son's voice there was something wrong, called out to him. "Bobby come back. It's OK you can talk to me. I mean it must be important if you came up here to talk to me so late. What is it nearly eleven?"

"Yeah, almost but . . ."

"No buts, come back in here and tell your mom what is wrong," Samantha said to him firmly.

"You sure?" Bobby said as the bathroom door started to slowly open again.

"Yeah, beside I'm pretty sure I know what you wanna talk to me about."

"You do?"

"Yes, as my motherly instincts are telling me you and Billy, against my sage advice, rented that stupid Nightmare on Elm Street 2."

Bobby, standing there in a pair of old jeans and a shabby tee shirt, looked at her sheepishly before saying, "Yeah, we did."

"And let me guess, now you two are worried and scared about going to sleep?"

"Yeah," Bobby answered quietly. "I guess we are both scared we might have bad dreams."

"Then why did you watch the stupid thing," she snapped irritably at him.

"I don't know . . . coz we wanted to," Bobby quietly replied.

Samantha, chastising herself for snapping at him, softened her voice before saying, "I mean, you know those scary movies do tend to give you nightmares."

"Yeah, I know but we were just . . . like curious and everyone was talking about it so . . ."

"Well if you do have any bad dreams Bobby, just hmm, come back upstairs to my room as I won't be going to bed for a while yet since I just got into the tub. Just leave both my bedroom door, and the bathroom door open a bit."

"OK . . . sure." Bobby mumbled as he turned again to leave.

There was something in the way he mumbled his answer that struck Samantha the wrong way. It was as if he didn't really take her invitation to come back to her room seriously. Thinking she better double down on things, she spoke up.

"Look, honey, your mom is serious. You can come here and see me if you have a bad dream and need some comforting. I really mean that."

Turning back around to face her Bobby replied, "But what if it's late and you are like, already in bed?"

Deciding to try and make light of the situation, Samantha smiled at him before saying, "Then I guess you will just have to crawl up onto my bed and wake your mommy up."

He gave her a wan smile before saying a, a bit more firmly this time, "OK."

"Promise you will do that, hon. Come see me no matter how late it is?"

"Yes, I promise," he replied before beginning to, once again, retreat from the bathroom.

"Oh wait . . . one more thing, Bobby. I am assuming Billy is kind of worried like you . . . about, you know, having bad dreams and all."

"Yeah. Actually, I think he is even more worried."

"Well then why didn't he come up with you to see me?"

"Oh, you know, how he is. I told him he should come with me, but he said he didn't wanna bother you."

"Well make sure you tell him he is welcome to come see me too if he has a bad dream and needs some comforting."

"OK, I will."

Wanting to make sure her message would be delivered, Samantha said firmly, "You had better tell him, Bobby because I will ask him later if you did."

"OK, OK, I will tell him, Mom," Bobby said before finally departing.

After he left, Samantha smiled to herself, being close to one hundred percent sure one of them, if not both, would be back before the night was up, clamoring for her to comfort them after having a bad dream.

Billy was Bobby's best friend, turning just eighteen a week ago, a mere three days after Bobby's own birthday. They were the proverbial "two peas in a pod" with nearly identical personalities and looks. Although they were both the shy book worm types, Billy was maybe even a bit more reserved than his best friend as he came from an abusive home, mainly because Billy's stepfather was a jerk who liked to thump on both his wife and his oldest stepchild.

As a result of his shitty home life, Billy spent the majority of this time, over at best friend's house. Samantha actually possessed a real soft spot in her heart for the painfully shy Billy so she didn't mind him spending the majority of his time at her house.

Of course, a mother's instinct about such things in dealing with their children, and their needs, is rarely wrong and, sure enough, after maybe about fifteen minutes, she heard a soft tapping on the partially open bathroom door.

"Yes Bobby . . . come in."

The bathroom door swung slowly open as Samantha sank down further under the protective screen of bubbles.

"Its . . . it's not Bobby, Ms. Samantha it's me."

"Oh, Billy, I'm sorry. I just assumed it was Bobby."

"I can come back when . . . when you are out . . . or, you know, not at all. I don't wanna be bothering you but . . ." He paused, looking bashfully down at his feet as he fidgeted nervously.

"But you had a bad dream and wanna talk to me about it . . . right sweetie? I mean, I'm not surprised since your mom told me you get nightmares whenever you watch those stupid scary movies."

"She told you that?" he asked.

"Yes, I mean, we don't talk much, thanks to, you know, your step father but yeah she told me."

And then, not wanting him to feel ashamed about having a nightmare, if, in fact, he really had one, she quickly added, "But it's nothing to be ashamed of Billy. I mean, Bobby gets them too, you know, especially after watching a scary movie."

"I know but not tonight I guess. I tried to wake him to tell him about my dream and he won't even wake up. He is, like, totally sound asleep."

"Smiling, Samantha told him, "So I guess you are stuck telling me huh?"

"Hmm, I . . . ahhh, I don't really wanna talk about it, but I was wondering . . . I mean Bobby told me you said you would comfort either one of us if we, like, had a bad dream."

"I did and yes that applies to you as much as it does to Bobby, you know."

"Good, because I . . . I need comforting Ms. Samantha. My dream was real bad."

Billy looked down then. He was wearing a plain grey tee shirt and a pair of ratty gym shorts and had the most pitiful look on his adorably baby face. Just looking at him, standing there looking so utterly lost and hopeless, caused Samantha's heart to swell with empathy.

Making a snap decision, Samantha decided she would do everything in her power to comfort her son's life long best friend.

"Well, you aren't going to get the comfort you need sweetie standing all the way over there now are you?"

"I guess not," he quietly answered before he slowly crossed the bathroom to her.

When he got so he was standing right next to the tub, Samantha smiled at him before saying, "Now when Bobby has a bad dream I will usually comfort him by giving him a warm glass of milk, to, you know, help him sleep when the time comes, but I think we are actually out of milk so . . . darn."

"Yeah, well, it's OK, Ms. Samantha. I mean, I don't want you going out of your way for me anyways."

There was something about the sweet and gentlemanly way he always called her "Ms. Samantha" that struck her then. Maybe it was the fact she was pretty tipsy but, Samantha, throwing caution to the wind, told him, "Well giving him milk actually only is a minor part of the way I comfort Bobby when he is suffering from a bad dream. The major part, and the most important part of the way I comfort him is by cuddling him."

Samantha watched, almost amused, with the way Billy was standing there, fidgeting all nervous like. Doubling down on what she said, she added, "You know, Bobby always took great comfort in me snuggling up with him when he had a nightmare."

"He is lucky. My mom just gets mad and yells at me because it makes my step dad mad when I have bad dreams and stuff."

"It's OK baby. I'm not like that. I'm not like your mom and we won't even talk about your dad so . . . so just forgot them and if you want some nice, loving comfort from me just tell me."

I . . . I think I would like that . . . if you don't mind," Billy shyly replied.

"No, I don't mind at all, but the only thing is . . . just where am I going to cuddle you at, Billy? Normally, I cuddle Bobby downstairs in the den in front of a fire if its winter time and its cold in the house, like tonight, but you guys are sleeping down there and we don't wanna wake Bobby up."

"Right we are sleeping there."

"And I can't cuddle with you out in my bedroom because Riley is sleeping in her mommy's bed tonight. She is still there right? Sleeping."

"Yes. Bobby told me she was in your bed so I was real quiet when I came in your room."

"Normally we could go to the living room but, as I suppose you noticed it doesn't have any furniture in it now as I ordered all new furniture and it won't arrive until the day after tomorrow."

"Yeah, Bobby told me you guys were getting a new living room set but look, I mean, really it's OK. I don't wanna bother you."

"Billy, honey, you already said that about not wanting to bother me. Well, the truth is if you don't let me figure out a way me and you can cuddle so you can get the comfort you so desperately need I will be bothered . . . greatly."

Samantha paused before finally finding the courage to give voice to the wicked idea flitting around at the very edges of her mind.

"Anyways, I just thought of a way I could cuddle you that would work but . . . hmm, you would have to promise to keep it a secret, Billy."

"I can keep a secret Ms. Samantha. Promise."

"Well, I was just sort of thinking, by the way you are standing there so noticeably shivering that you must be real cold?"

"I am," he replied in his best sad puppy dog voice.

"I thought so and since we can't go down to the den, and can't go to my bedroom, or to the living room to cuddle, and of course, we can't go to Bobby's room either because what if he woke up and found us there he would be kind of upset I think."

"Yeah, he would," Billy agreed.

"So I think, maybe . . . well maybe you could join me in the tub and we can cuddle here . . . if you don't mind. I mean, it's nice and warm in here. I just added some fresh hot water before you came up and honestly, I really not ready to get out yet so . . ."

"Really you won't mind me getting in the tub with you Ms. Samantha?"

"Not at all, Billy."

"Well . . . I'm . . . I don't know . . . I mean . . ."

"Look honey I can guess what you are worried about. You are worried about me seeing you naked because, obviously, you will have to take off your clothes."

"Yeah," he said while shuffling his feet nervously.

"Well don't worry, I will just turn my head while you get undressed and then after you hop in the tub all you have to do is keep your naked body under the bubbles right . . . like I am."

"Right," he said with growing enthusiasm.

"Great then, hurry up and get undressed while I turn away. Oh, but before you get undressed while don't you go over to the bathroom door there and lock it so we won't be disturbed or surprised while I'm cuddling with you in the tub."

After he quickly locked the door, Samantha, as promised, turned her head allowing her son's introverted friend to get undressed before he hopped into the tub with her.

Stretching out her arms, while making sure to keep her "good parts" hidden under the bubbles, she told him, "Now come over here so Ms. Samantha can start giving you the comfort she promised."

Scooting over to her, while making sure to stay under the shielding screen of the bubbles, he moved right up next to her, allowing her to slip a protective arm around him as he leaned back against the side of the round sunken tub.

Pulling him closer, a rather inebriated Samantha, feeling quite playful, leaned over whispering in his ear, "Tell me your secret, hon and I'll tell you mine."

"What secret, Ms. Samantha?" a puzzled Billy asked.

"Oh come on. You know you have a deep dark secret regarding your best friend's mom in that soft little heart of yours." Running her fingers through his hair, she said to him, "Let me see if I can pry it out of you."

"Sure," Billy replied quietly.

"First, tell me how long have you and Bobby been best friends?"

"A long, long time Ms. Samantha."

"And how long have you had a crush on your best friend's mom, sweetheart? If I had to guess I would say it's been an equally long time."

"I d-don't have a crush on you," he begin to stammer. "I m-mean I like you, a lot and all and . . . you're real nice and all and . . ."

The fact was Billy did possess a major crush on his best friend's mom. She was, to his thinking, the sexiest creature on earth with her dishwater blonde hair falling just past her shoulders, framing a pleasantly rounded face with those dancing and highly spirited hazel eyes.

As for her physique, Billy thought Ms. Samantha's body put both the W's in WOW as it featured an abundance of attractive, plump curves, with the highlight being a pair of outsized, well rounded breasts, topped by a pair of magnificently large nipples.

She smiled at him sweetly before whispering, "And you think I'm kind of hot?"

"I . . . I mean . . ." He squirmed as she pressed a finger against his lips cutting off whatever lame thing he was about to say.

"Let me finish for you, Billy. Yes, Ms. Samantha I think you are hot but I'm just too shy to admit it. Does that sound about right?"

After a brief pause he quietly answered, "Yes."

"Now if you want to hear my secret, and I know you do, you have to be brave and admit that you do, in fact, have a crush on me."

After a long pause, as he continued to squirm, Billy finally spilled his guts when the words came pouring out of him in a torrent of pent up emotion.

"Oh God yes, Ms. Samantha, I do have a crush on you. I think about you all the time and . . . and I come over here, hoping to see you, just as much as to hang around with Bobby. The truth is Ms. Samantha . . ." He looked away diffidently before turning his eyes up toward her and whispering, "I think I love you, Ms. Samantha."

"Think sweetheart or know?" she cooed to him.

"Know," he answered quietly.

"Oh sweetie, I know that wasn't easy to admit so now I owe it to you to share my secret."

She enjoyed the way he looked at her-- like an eager little puppy-- as she paused momentarily, if only to draw out the moment. "When I heard the soft knocking on my bathroom door I was really hoping it was you, and not Bobby, coming to seek comfort from me. Please don't tell him or he will be crushed."

"I won't," Billy replied. "Promise."

"Good. Now you still want to be comforted from your bad dream?"

"Yes, very badly."

"Well usually when Bobby has a bad dream I will cuddle him some, like I told you earlier, and sort of like we are doing now, but I will also give him some sweet kisses as we cuddle . . . like this."

Leaning forward, she kissed him tenderly several times on both his cheeks before moving her lips slowly to his forehead and applying a soft kiss there.

She pulled back slightly, pausing to see what affect her kisses might have had on him.

He looked at her, longingly, before whispering, "Can I ask you a favor Ms. Samantha?"

"Of course, sweetie, ask me anything."

"Well, it's silly I know, but the first time, years ago, when I heard Bobby call you 'Mommy' my heart wrenched with jealousy. Maybe because my own mom is a bit distant to me, not, you know, nice and loving like you. It's mainly because of my stepdad but . . . that's a long story so anyways, I mean I just wish she was allowed to be more like you, I guess, and I was just wondering . . . I mean when we are alone if . . . if . . ." He paused, wondering if he should go on.

Samantha, making it easy on him, said, "Let me guess, you are wondering if you could call me Mommy. Of course, you can Billy. I think I might like you calling me that, especially as the older he gets the more distant Bobby is to me and never calls me mommy anymore anyways. I mean I really miss when he was younger and he let me baby him a bit. You know, he won't even barely let me kiss or cuddle him anymore."

"He won't? Well, you know . . . Mommy . . . I will let you baby me all you want . . . if you want."

"Really," she said as her thought how morally what she was doing was highly questionable, but then again, her sense of right or wrong had been thrown just about out the window after her very attentive and loving second husband was killed by that fucking drunk driver.

Where was the morality in that? On a larger scale of things, seducing her son's best friend barely made a mark. Or so she told herself.

With this in mind, Samantha reached over, grabbing the nearby washcloth. "Maybe you can prove that by saying it would be OK if Mommy and her sweet little Billy boy took turns washing each other up . . . Bobby won't let me do anything like that anymore because he says he is too old to be babied like that."

"I am not too old to be babied like that Mommy. I mean, yeah, we can take turns washing each other up if you want."

"I really do and besides I think you letting me wash you, and then you taking your turn to wash me will help take your mind off your stupid bad dream and maybe relax you . . . don't you agree?"

"I do too," Billy replied as she started to lather up a wash cloth.

Handing it to him, she said, "Why don't you go first starting with my neck and shoulders and then wash my back. Here move in behind me," she told him as she carefully scooted forward, making sure to stay under the shielding screen of bubbles.

Billy maneuvered himself in behind Samantha and slowly began running the soapy washcloth over her neck and shoulders, before letting it slip down first one of her arms, and then the other.

"You are doing a good job, hon. I'll lean forward a bit so you can do my back next."

"OK," Billy croaked as he brought the wash rag down to her back, washing it in small circles.

He washed all the way down her back, right to where her body disappeared under the bubbles floating on top of the warm water.

"Now bring your washcloth around and wash your mommy's thighs, sweetheart."

She lifted her legs, one after the other, slightly up, allowing him to reach around with his wash cloth and wash her thighs. He again moved the wash cloth in small circles, acutely aware of how close he was to the hidden treasure laying between her legs, just under the bubbles.