Bennet's Mom (Has Got it Going On)

It was scorching hot in L.A. the day I met my son's new girlfriend for the first time. A new book I had to read for work sat, mostly untouched, on my lap as I lounged in the sun on a pool float that cooled me down. Moments like these were rare with three teenage boys home for the summer. I adored them, of course, especially since my wife had died last summer. Time was precious. That being said, I still needed my alone time between Charlie's soccer games, Oliver's band and play rehearsals, and Bennet's...well, Ben was 22 and 'still finding himself,' as he liked to say. So he was home all the time for the summer, having dropped out of his second college in four years.

"Diana!" Charlie, my youngest, had taken up the charming habit of calling me by my first name since his other mom passed. I tried not to hold it against him, but, eventually, the grief timer would run out on his antics. He continued yelling, "There's someone by the gate!"

I sighed. Because he was only 13, Charlie didn't have the code to open the gate from the inside. His older brothers must've been somewhere else in the house, unable to hear the buzz. Charlie knew to get me first. So I paddled over to the edge of the pool and let myself onto the cool pavement around it; when we were designing the house, we'd sprung for the acrylic overlay so the pool area didn't get hot under the blazing western sun.

I grabbed my lacy coverup off one of the lounge chairs even though it didn't conceal much. Since I was tanning, I was wearing one of my smallest bikinis to keep lines to a minimum. When I was on the lounger, I even untied the straps and let them rest on my breasts so that I wouldn't have any lines on the shoulders. I slid my feet -- freshly manicured from yesterday -- into my pool sandals and used my fingerprint to open up the tempered glass back door. As I walked in, a cool blast of air from the vent above the door instantly cooled me down. I'd had the idea after a few years spent in Las Vegas, where all the resorts try to entice people in with air conditioners pointed directly over the doors. The house had an open floor plan downstairs so that I could see the front door from the back. When I locked the back door behind me, the glass frosted itself so that nobody could see in but we could still see out.

I wasn't ashamed to admit that my late wife, Lucy, and I had done well for ourselves. She'd been a plastic surgeon and I continued to work as a head editor for a publishing house, specializing in acquiring books from celebrities and influencers. Altogether, we netted in the seven figures for the entirety of our marriage. It was rare for a lesbian couple, much less an interracial one, to succeed like that, so, yes, I flaunted my house in the hills, my well-done breast implants, and the butt sculpted by a well-paid personal trainer and personal chef.

Leisurely, knowing it was probably just a package one of the boys had ordered that needed a signature, I walked up to the call box, pushed the button, and said, "Diana Seymour; what do you need?"

An anxious woman's voice came back through the speaker. It surprised me; we didn't get many visitors here because of the highly secured development, and the visitors we did get were usually my work associates or muscular security men delivering packages or information. The girl said, "I'm Ella. Ella Madison. Benny gave me the address."

Benny. Ah. I hit the unlock button. "Come in; make sure the gate clicks behind you."

"Charlie," I called over my shoulder, knowing that he would be lurking nearby (no matter how much he protested the accusation and acted out, he was a mama's boy through and through), "would you mind finding Bennet? There's a girl here for him."

Charlie scampered off up the main curved stairwell, toward the wing where all their bedroom suites were. I watched through the glass door as this Ella character -- who must've been Bennet's latest girlfriend since nobody else called him 'Benny' -- nervously approached the house. Most people did. She was around Bennet's age, maybe 21 or 22, and held a box with a ribbon in her hands.

I could tell immediately she was out of Bennet's lead. My children were my world, and I knew I spoiled them rotten, but I had a brain and two eyes. Bennet was a trust-fund baby with his own Bentley, yes, but he was also...hm. Simple. He'd done well enough at the private school with plenty of resources I'd put the boys in, but I doubted he'd ever actually finish a college degree as much as he tried. He preferred partying to studying, preferred beer to wine, and preferred girls with no brain cells over anything else.

Ella struck me as different, but I still wondered if she'd be just another girl trying to marry into the family. She was Black, maybe biracial, with medium-toned cool skin and a thick layer of freckles all over. She wore her hair in thin knotless braids, half-up and half-down, with pale teal extensions woven through to her ends. She was curvy like Lucy had been in her youth, carrying most of her weight in her hips and thighs. Wearing a pair of loose, pleated paper bag shorts and a tied short-sleeve button down, she seemed smart and modest. I knew well that looks could be deceiving, of course, but I could usually get a good read on people, especially when it came to who my children hung around with.

I opened the door before she could knock. "Ella. Good to meet you."

She took in my figure, my clear skin, and my long hair with only one streak of gray at the front. Her eyes widened at the emerald Cartier engagement ring and wedding band set I still wore around my neck. Her voice shook. "You're Mrs. Seymour?"

"In the flesh." I offered her my hand, which she took hesitantly. "But, please, call me Diana. Or Dr. Seymour, I suppose. I'm not a 'Mrs.' anymore."

"Right, Benny told me about your loss. I'm so sorry."

I waved my hand and said, "It's been a year. Lucy's my soulmate, but I live in the present now. She wouldn't want me to be sorry."

Ella awkwardly handed me the box she'd brought, which was an assorted collection of chocolates. "I brought these for you."

"Trying to win favor with the witch mother?" I chuckled, but her eyes still widened. I'd gotten used to the look over the years; I'd earned a bit of a reputation as a tiger mom, but I didn't see anything wrong with wanting and working for the best. I gave her a pat on the shoulder and assured her, "Well, good work; I've got a wicked sweet tooth."

I winked and went over to the kitchen to give the box a place on the counter. Bennet came down the stairs, his heavy footsteps plodding. I couldn't help but eavesdrop on their conversation -- both literally because I was making myself a pitcher of lemonade to take back outside in the open floor plan and out of my own curiosity.

"Babe," Bennet started, edging close to her, his voice loud, "You should've seen the crazy party I threw last weekend with Pudd. Someone brought a fucking snake -- like a big ass boa, not some little thing. It got wild."

"Oh, really? That sounds... interesting," Ella replied, her tone uncertain.

"Interesting?" He teased, "Come on, I know how to have a good time, you know? You should've rolled up. Would've been way better with you there."

"Well, I'm not really into wild parties or anything like that," Ella admitted, her discomfort palpable.

"Come on, loosen up. I promise you'll have fun with me," Bennet urged, sounding a bit too forceful. I debated making a show of walking past them just to force him to switch topics or interrupt the conversation. My morbid curiosity, however, simply made a mental note to chew him out later and keep listening. Confidently he added, "I know you're into me, anyway, so you should definitely come out with us sometime."

"Well, I mean, we're still getting to know each other," Ella said. Her voice was shy. I wondered where the hell they'd met if not at one of Bennet's late nights with his friends, who all had names like Pudd and Stretch and Bump and Dumb and Dumber. They probably called him Turd as something as soon as the actual grownups left the room.

Bennet's tone bordered on arrogance when he said, "Yeah, but I can tell you're into me; why else would you have shown up here?"

"I mean, for one thing, you left your backpack at my place and asked me to bring it over."

I snorted under my breath, deciding that enough was enough. I took my glass of iced lemonade and a few of the chocolate truffles and joined them in the entryway. I gave Ella a knowing glance and told my son, "Ben, ease up. You sound like an ass." I looked at Ella pointedly, then, and added, "Two moms and he still talks to women like that, huh?"

Suddenly bashful as he always was when I appeared to critique his behavior, Bennet looked at his Gucci slides and said, "Sorry, El."

"I'm sure he was just trying to impress you," I said with a reassuring wink. "You'll just have to keep reminding him to think about whether or not he'd say that in front of his mother."

Finally, she offered a slightly more comfortable laugh. "Got it."

I smiled one more time before returning to my outdoor sanctuary. I had my snack and then started swimming laps, letting myself fall into the rhythm of the water flowing around every inch of my body. The cool, inviting waters of the pool liberated me from the racing thoughts that often chased me since Lucy had died.

Lost in my own world, I didn't notice Ella come outside until her presence disrupted the tranquility. Her expression was visibly upset, and I could sense that something was bothering her. She cursed under her breath, not realizing she'd come out the wrong door.

I stopped my lap and called out, "Come over here and take a breath."

I climbed out of the pool, water dripping off my glistening skin, and approached her. I rubbed the excess water off with a plush white towel, knowing the sun would finish the job practically by the time I sat down.

We sat on two of the pool loungers, facing each other. She wouldn't meet my eyes. I reached across the space and placed my hand on her knee. "You're upset. What's going on?"

She sighed heavily, sucked in a deep breath, and said, "I don't want to shit talk your own kid in front of you."

I chuckled, "Trust me, I won't be offended. I love that boy to death, but I've been waiting for him to outgrow his teenage phase for four years now. He hasn't exactly blossomed."

She gave me a nervous little smile. The way her full lips pressed together was exceptionally cute.

"We got in a stupid fight." She rolled her eyes and then looked up, meeting my eyes for a moment before leaning her face into the warm sunlight. I knew how its rays could melt away anxieties. The light caught her sloping features, casting playful shadows that accentuated her natural, effortless beauty. Ella hesitated for a moment before sharing her worries. "It was about sex. Like I said, I don't want-"

"Oh, honey." I leaned back in my chair, stretching my arms above my head so my breasts sat fully on my chest. "I'm fifty years old and my wife and I were swingers before terms like 'polyamorous' and 'non-monogamous' even existed. I promise I'm not squeamish about sex."

She sighed again, this time more of a huff, and told me, "We were talking about relationships and exes and it came up. I sort of assumed that with me he was just, like, eager and holding off on it, but then he said he doesn't think going down on girls is important, that he only has to-"

"He what?" The shock in my voice surprised her. I sat up straight and looked at her seriously, "He was raised by lesbians, for Christ's sake! So he hasn't...have you ever gotten off with him?"

"I mean, it's only been a few times, and sometimes it takes a while to-"

I scoffed. "There's absolutely no reason he shouldn't have figured it out by now. That's ridiculous."

"What do you mean?" Her eyebrows furrowed like this was a novel thought. "You mean you, like, you can get a girl off every time?"

I tried to conceal how cute and how sad she was being. "Hon, nobody's ever walked away from me unsatisfied, I promise you that. How devastating to learn it's not inherited by osmosis. Must be genetic."

The way her face fell at that -- a spark of intrigue written on disappointed features -- sparked desire deep inside of me. I told her, "You're a beautiful girl, Ella. More than beautiful, frankly. Sexy. Beautiful. Any man who doesn't want to absolutely worship you is an idiot, even if I raised them myself."

She snorted and it was the cutest laugh I've ever seen. Younger women had been something of a hobby for me since Lucy died, but I'd never gone for someone who seemed more...taboo to me. I mainly went for girls from dating apps who were too nervous to start conversations themselves, or I dropped by girls' nights at gay clubs in my tallest heels. Never one of the countless girls Bennet had brought around. I debated, briefly, if it would be truly wrong to make a move on her, or if I'd be doing her a favor. It's not like either of us would ever tell Bennet, and I imagined she'd break up with him and disappear regardless. Might as well send her off with something to remember, right?

Then I noticed that she was examining me more closely than she had been before. I couldn't ignore the way her eyes lingered on my figure, a mixture of curiosity and desire dancing in her quickly moving gaze. It was as if she was silently appreciating every curve, every exposed bit of skin, trying to be subtle. I became more aware of my own body language, moving deliberately. I wanted her to see me not as the mom of a guy who had a crush on her, but as a woman.

Ella's shy demeanor only added to the allure of her, making me want to pull her closer, to discover the secrets hidden beneath that demure exterior. Adjusting my cover-up, I allowed it to slide off my shoulders just a bit, revealing a glimpse of sun-kissed skin. Her eyes followed the movement, and a mischievous grin played at the corner of my lips. The subtle game of seduction, even if only in my mind, made me feel a tiny bit more alive.

Her eyes were warm and seeking, her lips slightly parted as she tried to find any words to say to me. Once that look had cemented itself on my brain, sunburned in, I knew that my moral dilemma was already over. Knowing exactly where I'd be going sooner rather than later -- hell, maybe, but heaven between her legs -- I asked her, "Have you ever gotten off with a man?"

She shook her head, more than embarrassed both by the answer and at being caught looking at me so intently. "I'm not even sure I can, honestly. I've only ever been able to by myself. I'm starting to think something's wrong with-"

"Oh, Ella." My hand on her thigh once more, my thumb, absently, almost without my permission, moved in a circle by her knee. "I promise there's nothing wrong with you. It's these dumb young boys." A little breathless all of a sudden -- looking at her all curious and sad and hopeful and frustrated -- I told her, tentatively, gently, "If you ever wanted to be with someone more experienced, well..." I dropped my voice to a purr "...trust me, lots of us would be more than happy to be with you."

Her eyes widened. I noticed the slightest ring of hazel at the center of those spice-brown irises. "What do you mean?"

"I wouldn't want to overstep any further," I replied, knowing full well that I'd be more than happy to overstep further with her. Through a laugh to make my proposition more casual, I took my hand off of her leg and dragged my fingers along her soft cheekbone. "But the reality, dear, is that I'd be able to prove to you that you can have an orgasm -- probably more than one -- with another person and it would only take half an hour of your time. I know you'd walk away feeling more confident in your sexuality and your body. Unlike my son, apparently, I actually do know how to have a good time."

For a full minute -- or maybe an hour or maybe a few seconds; it was hard to tell with the tension between us -- Ella was silent. I let my fingers trail down her neck to the hem of her short sleeve, running under it to her bare skin lightly.

Then, in a voice so quiet I hardly heard it over the pool filter and breeze in the trees, she met my eyes and said, "Okay."

My voice dropped low, enticing, and I asked, "You're sure?"

"I think so."

"Well, tell me if you're uncomfortable. We won't do anything you don't absolutely love, I promise. If you aren't happy at any point, speak up. I want it to be about you."

I stood up, walked to the control panel by the door, and frosted the house's glass once more, this time putting it in night mode so that nobody could see out. The boys were used to it, though, because I switched it on when I tanned naked, which I did regularly. I sauntered back to where Ella sat on the lounger, lightly pushing on her shoulder to get her to lie down.

Her already wide eyes turned to the size of plates. She whispered, "Here?"

"Either that or I have to march you through the house up to my bedroom suite." I teased, "If you'd prefer it that way, I can make it happen."

She rolled her eyes. "You would never."

"Now there's some of your real personality; thank god."

She leaned back on her lounger and I tapped on her legs, telling her to spread them. I knelt between her legs and put one hand on either side of her head. My breasts were close to her eyes for a moment before I moved to kiss her. I made sure not to overwhelm her, not jumping into anything too intense the way I might with a younger girl who knew what she wanted but was too nervous to ask for it. Driven to give her what she was missing out on, I cupped her chin in my hand, thumb just under her lower lip. I made a point of looking in her eyes as she gazed back up into mine. Her lashes framed them, adding an innocence to the desire that flickered in her dilating pupils.

I brought her lips to mine. I started with a soft, closed mouth, sweet and delicate like a first kiss should be. I doubted she'd ever been treated with either tenderness or passion based on her age and history. She'd likely been taken with a wild, frantic energy that came in two minutes and left her behind to finish herself off.

So I went slowly and deliberately.

After our lips met, I parted hers gingerly, letting our lips overlap, opening and closing a few times, before I let my tongue explore forward. Her tongue discovered mine and, instead of taking charge, I let her lead for a moment, finding her footing with me. Ella's hands found my waist, naked between my bikini top and bottom, and she held them there with uncertainty. After she found the confidence to touch me first, I shifted my waist back to my legs so I could take a handful of her hair into my fingers, guiding our mouths together more firmly now.

More decisive now, I pulled her head to the side to expose her neck. With one hand in her hair and the other keeping her in place beneath me, I kissed my way down her stretched neck. I inhaled her scent while I did; she'd worn some dessert-y perfume that reminded me of going to tea in France on my honeymoon, surrounded by hand-crafted dainty pastries in a cozy bakery. I felt the way she breathed in, hard, when I added my teeth, dragging them lightly to add roughness and dimension to the sensation.

Moving down further, I began to unbutton her top. I untied the bottom of it, too, and slowly released her breasts. She'd worn a cute bra, god bless her, a nude pushup with a lacy overlay. The kind of thing boys didn't appreciate. I kissed the tops of each breast as she moved forward slightly to shrug off the top, revealing toned shoulders and arms. I reached around to unhook her bra, taking a moment to kiss her shoulders and collarbones, too, for the sake of being thorough.

I shimmied her bra off, placing it neatly on the table by my glass of lemonade. Then, I took a few moments to admire her breasts. They were the size of mine, but natural instead of augmented. All of her skin was a cool, medium brown, but her breasts were lighter and had a strapless bikini top tan line across their tops. Her areolas were large and much darker, chestnut instead of teak, and her nipples puckered at their centers, begging for my attention.