Beyond the Borderline

"Shhh, sweetheart. I know," she said tenderly. "I've wanted to do this for a long time too."

"You wanted to..." I began incredulously.

"Hush, sweet boy," she whispered, gently placing her index finger on my lips to quiet me.

She silenced me further by pulling me close and latching on to my lips again. I thought our previous kiss was exciting, but I had no idea. Mom's lips pressed against mine with urgency, her mouth opening wide as her tongue sought mine. As I responded, she sucked my tongue into her mouth, holding my head in both of her hands, practically devouring me.

Before that moment, if I ever had any perception of my mother as some idealized porcelain figure, to be cherished and treated delicately, I was quickly set straight about those notions. I was in the arms of a fiery, passionate creature, who was most definitely warm flesh and hot blood. It was absolutely breathtaking, and it only got better.

Mom slipped her arms around my shoulders, rolling over on top of me, our tongues dancing, probing, advancing and retreating in a moist arabesque. I could feel the incredible, soft pressure of her unencumbered breasts against my chest and the weight of her hips against my straining cock. Her pelvis was close against me with the slightest amount of pressure and motion, stimulating me unbearably. I was utterly spellbound, the intensity of the instant almost forcing me into an out of body experience.

We separated, breath ragged and chests heaving, eyes locked on each other. Placing my hand around her neck, I pulled her towards me. Mom seemed to not want me to speak, so I tried to let my actions do the talking. I kissed her forehead, cheeks and the bridge of her nose lightly before returning to her full, moist lips. Leaning into her slightly, not demanding, I refrained from using my tongue, simply pressing tenderly, withdrawing and pressing lightly again, acquainting myself with the details of her mouth, committing all the wonderful details to memory, watching her intently all the while. When I stopped, she sighed happily and laid her head on my chest. I simply held her, stroking her hair, soaking up our closeness. We continued our embrace for some time, not speaking.

Lost in our private world, we were startled as the first fireworks of the evening thundered into the sky across the river. I rolled onto my side and drew Mom up underneath my arm so we could watch the show, placing my other hand on hers, intertwining our fingers.

After a while, Mom turned to face me. "Well, Ricky, was this what you expected?"

"Mom...I have dreamed of this at least ten thousand times since I was 15," I croaked hoarsely, a hitch in my voice. "I imagined it so often, I thought I knew what it would be like, but I didn't have a freakin' clue. I have never, ever been kissed like that before."

I shuddered, gulping in a great lung full of air.

"I hope you know what you've done to me. I'm a goner now - officially ruined for all other women."

"Mmmm, you say the sweetest things to your Mom." Brushing my hair off my forehead, she smiled again. "You're not so bad yourself, sport. You make my toes tingle."

Glancing at my lap, Mom shook her head, reaching for a napkin. At first I thought she was looking at the railroad spike I was sporting in my pants, but she surprised me.

Tsking under her breath, she flicked her napkin on my thighs, chiding me, saying, "Jesus, Ricky, you're covered in crumbs. Men are such messy eaters," she scolded, pretending to be exasperated. "Don't you dare let that crud get on my nice new dress, you big slob."

Smiling apologetically, I drew her back to me and kissed her again. This time, I sought her in a more insistent way, searching for her tongue immediately, drawing her into my mouth, savoring her taste as we explored each other's mouths. As our kiss deepened in its intensity and passion, I began stroking her back and sides. She moaned into my mouth. "Ohhhh, Ricky, baby...." Emboldened, I reached up to gently to cup her breast, delicately tracing my fingertips on her heavy softness.

Sighing with pleasure, she gently disengaged my hand, and kissed it, holding it between us. "There's no rush, darling. Could we please take things slow and easy?"

I struggled mightily to keep the disappointment out of my voice. "Okay, Mom."

Kissing my cheeks, Mom looked at me intently. "We took a huge step tonight, Ricky. I just need to work through this a bit at a time. Things are more complicated for me than they might seem. I hope you'll give me a little room, a little time..."

I brought her close again and hugged her, burying my face in her shoulder. "It's okay, Mom. I love you and wouldn't do a thing to hurt you, ever. I won't do anything you don't want."

"You're my sweet young man, and I love you too. I'm so glad to be here with you now, like this."

I rolled onto my back, bringing her on top of me, giggling. Giving her a big, smacking burlesque of a kiss, I savored our contact. I knew Mom could probably feel my erection, which was pulsing unmercifully in my shorts, but I didn't care. I needed her to know how I felt now, to know how much she excited me, to know that it was waiting there, for her to have when and however she wanted it.

Laughing, she reached down to my sides and tickled me until I was squirming underneath her and then rolled off so she was on her side again, facing me. I sat up and reached out to her. "Come sit with me, Mom," I entreated, drawing her on to my lap. She settled in with her arms around my neck while I wrapped mine around her waist.

We sat that way for the rest of the fireworks, kissing from time to time, randomly alternating between sweet, affectionate pecks and wide-mouthed, tongue lashing, madly passionate clinches, as the mood took us. The fact that she was sitting on my rock hard cock didn't seem to faze her at all.

All too soon, the show was over. Still perched in my lap, Mom held my face in her hands, her eyes warmly searching mine, seemingly for any doubt or regret. Apparently satisfied, she rummaged in her purse for a Kleenex. She moistened the small paper square with the condensation on the wine bottle and gently scrubbed my face with it, saying, "I made a bit of a mess with you, Ricky. My lipstick's everywhere. Let me clean my boy up."

My face once again suitable for public viewing, we got up, dusted ourselves off and repacked the hamper. I folded the blankets over one arm and we walked back to the car, hand in hand.

As we pulled out of the parking lot, I put Mom under my arm, draping it over her shoulder. She settled against me with a contented sigh. We didn't speak on the way home, each of us lost in our own thoughts. Once in the kitchen, we cleaned up the picnic leavings together, still not speaking, but it was a strangely comforting, relaxed silence. There wasn't any need to talk, because we knew where we stood with each other now. A little later, we walked upstairs together, arms around each other's waists. I stopped Mom before she went into her room, hands sliding down to her hips, holding her gently.

Giving her a light but lingering kiss, I hugged her and spoke. "Thanks for a beautiful evening, Mom. It was the best. The best ever."

"It was very special, Ricky. Sleep well, son."

"Sweet dreams, Mom."

That night, even with the help of Rosie Palmer (more than once), it had taken a long time to nod off. I simply could not stop reliving the evening's events.

I know at some point I must have been asleep, because I found myself in a surreal dreamscape, walking on a darkened, windswept plain, head down, struggling into a ferocious wind. Heavy, roiling rain clouds scudded rapidly from horizon to horizon, internally illuminated with blinding flashes of sheet lightning. Horizontal rain, grit and sand were being blown into my face, abrading the skin of my cheeks and stinging my eyes.

The dream gale continued to increase in intensity until it stopped my forward progress entirely. I looked around myself in great confusion, knowing I was lost, but at the same time understanding that I urgently had to be someplace, but where I could not remember. As the tempest around me increased to a screaming crescendo, objects began to fly by; cars, rocks, animals, people, houses, boats, buildings, entire cities. As I felt myself beginning to lose my footing, I heard Mom's voice. "Rickeeee! Rickeee! Time to come in! Time to stop playing!"

The surreal tempest still surged around me, but somehow, I was now standing in Gramps and Nana's old Ohio backyard, next to my worn swing set, a small island of calm in the maelstrom.

"Coming, Mommy! I'm coming in now!"

As I spoke, the wind took me in its grip, swirling me up into the air. I lost all orientation as I was roughly twisted and tumbled, pushed in all directions by the impacts of the smaller debris, caroming off the larger objects in my path as I was pulled into the sky.

"Rickeee! Time to come in! Time to come in now!" Mom's voice took on an insistent note.

"I'm trying, Mom! I'm trying!"

Spinning and tumbling through the air, I suddenly became oriented, finding the direction of her calls. Without effort or volition, I seemed to hurtle towards the source of her voice, bursting through the swirling cyclone of flying boulders, fragmented skyscrapers, great ships and shattered mountains to a quiet place of warm light and undisturbed clouds. Mom was there, dressed in a pale yellow, fifties-style house dress, a mixing bowl in the crook of her arm, stirring a batch of cookie dough. "Ahhh, there you are, my son! What took you so long?"

Setting the bowl aside, she held her arms out to me, clothes dissolving, blown away in a cloud of tiny, scintillating fragments by a warm breeze. Naked, I could see every detail of her body. Stiffened, erect and proud, her nipples were like beacons. Her abdomen, unblemished and smooth with only the slightest hint of maternal, soft fullness around the hips and belly, the magnificent thatch of reddish blonde hair between her legs and her inner thighs, glistening with evidence of her arousal, they all beckoned to me. As I reached towards her, she ran her tongue over her lips, mouth parting in preparation for me.

"You're all grown up now, Ricky. I'm so proud of you -- now come give me my kiss."

As I reached out to take her in my arms, I awoke.

Shuddering slightly, I threw off the dream with effort, trying to smooth my ruffled mental feathers. Glancing at my alarm clock, I could see it was an uncharacteristically early hour, even though I had not fallen asleep for quite awhile after our return home. Images of the evening in the park still swirled in my head and the first thought when I opened my eyes was that I'd had the best dream ever about me and Mom, but when I went to the bathroom to brush my teeth, I saw the faintest smudge of lipstick at the angle of my jaw. Then I knew. My God, it had really, truly happened. Suddenly, I was amazingly awake. The sight of that faint streak of red on my cheek woke me up more than any triple shot of espresso could ever hope to do.

Quickly throwing on a clean polo shirt and some shorts, I padded downstairs past Mom's still-closed door. I paused there briefly, but could hear nothing.

I put on a pot of coffee and went to the porch to get the morning paper. Easing back into the breakfast nook, I took in the headlines of the day, waiting for the pot to finish brewing. When the coffee was finally ready, I drank it black, trying to use the bitter taste to propel myself fully into the morning. Oddly, in spite of my disturbing and arousing dream, I felt as calm and content as I could ever remember. As I recalled the amazing events of our July 4th evening, I heard Mom stirring upstairs. A short while later her shower started up. When I heard her finish, I got up and poured her a cup of coffee and got a yogurt out of the fridge, slicing some of yesterday's peaches over it. I sat back and waited, very apprehensive about what to expect.

A few minutes later, Mom arrived downstairs. She was dressed in her usual uniform, a smartly tailored navy business suit and a white silk blouse, the hemline of the skirt ending slightly below her knees. The jacket was stylishly cut with a broad expanse of open space between the deeply cut "V" of the front, subtly emphasizing her cleavage. As usual, she looked great to me.

I took in every detail, noticing she seemed a little fatigued and bleary-eyed. I gestured her to sit opposite me and handed her the mug of coffee, surreptitiously surveying her for any signs of regret, or (I fervently wished) acknowledgment. Try as I might, though, I could see nothing but her normal, day-to-day demeanor.

Taking a sip, she favored me with a dazzling smile. "Ahhh, thanks sweetie. I really need a jolt this morning."

I sensed that Mom was not in any mood to talk about last night, so I kept my peace. "Would you like a ride to the station?" I asked.

Placing her hand on my arm and giving me a squeeze, she smiled warmly.

"I'll take a lift from my handsome chauffeur any time. You needed the car for something today?"

"Yeah. Uncle Louie's been after me to work a couple evenings a week while I make up my mind about my job. I thought I'd go talk to him about it. I think it'll be good to stay a little busy while I sort things out."

"Uncle Louie" was Louis Agostino, who owned the best restaurant in town. I'd begun working odd jobs and washing dishes for him when I was 16, gradually working my way up to part time line chef by the time I finished high school. Louie sort of took me under his wing after Gramp's and Nana's passing, showing me the ropes of running a kitchen and keeping me busy. He took an interest early on in my career and had been a wellspring of good advice and great contacts in the City as I developed my skills. I knew he would love to bring me on as Sous Chef in his place, but we both knew that wasn't going to happen. All modesty and bad puns aside, I had bigger fish to fry. Still, I owed Louie a lot and was happy to help out when I had the time. Having a bit of spending money in my pocket for the summer would be nice too.

"That's generous of you, Ricky. Louis has been very good to you."

"That he has."

As we drove to the station, Mom held my hand. When we arrived, she gave me a wonderful, light but deliciously prolonged kiss before hopping out of the car, gentle, moist and just a hint of tongue.

"Don't worry about last night, darling. Nothing's changed since we went to sleep," she assured me with a smile.

How well she knew me! It was all I needed to hear to make it a great day and I loved her all the more for taking time to think about how I was feeling about us.

While I watched her make her way to the platform, it suddenly struck me how alive Mom looked, how confident and relaxed her demeanor was. As she strode away, her hips swayed and her gait was long and sensuous. She seemed to catch the eye of nearly every man she passed by. A few even stopped in their tracks, turning to watch her as she moved away from them. Every nuance of her body language shouted, "I'm a beautiful, desirable woman; look at me, watch me walk and see. I'm loved and in love."

***

I worked out an arrangement with Uncle Louie later that morning. I'd work as the co-lead chef on the line on Friday nights and would spend Tuesday and Thursday afternoons working with the crew, teaching them the finer aspects of classic preparation and cooking techniques, acting as a quasi-Chef de Cuisine on those days. We worked out the details over a couple of hours and agreed that I would start next week.

When I picked up Mom at the end of the day, she was in an ebullient mood. She settled in next to me in the front seat and immediately parked herself under my arm, hand casually resting on my neck again, caressing me as we drove home.

"You seem particularly happy tonight, Mom. Good day at work?"

"Yes indeed. I'm especially happy today for three reasons."

"I'm assuming you will enumerate and enlighten me as we go here."

"I shall. Number one, I made the top ten in billable hours again this quarter, which makes three in a row, which means I get an extra week of vacation some time in the next three months. Number two, Doug March (son of the founding member of the practice and current senior partner) asked me to be lead counsel in the Vancouver Mining/Seattle-Pacific Precious Metals merger deal. I'll be flying to Vancouver in a couple weeks to meet with my Canadian counterparts and to prepare for the negotiations."

"Wow, that's great news! Congratulations, Mom."

I then described my summer arrangement with Uncle Louie, which further delighted her.

"You said there were three things, Mom."

"I most certainly did. I had lunch today with Selena Mendoza to consult with her about the Vancouver Mining deal. She's the M&A specialist who made partner last month. We've become pretty good friends over the past year and I mentored her when she first joined the practice."

"Anyway, we're sitting down to order and the first thing she asks me is 'All right, who is he?' Of course, I say that I have no idea what she's talking about, and she then says 'Come off it, Jenny. When the most serious, totally professional and completely business-like partner in the whole practice comes in to work with a big smile on her face, practically floating on air, something's up. Everyone from the mail room boy to old man March himself was speculating like mad all morning.' I thought about it for a minute and I asked her if she could keep a secret and she agreed."

"I told her I was seeing a younger man."

I almost drove off the road.

"Jesus!" I spluttered. "Damn...Why'd you say...I mean, it's great, but...Mom?"

She laughed merrily and kissed my cheek, still running her hand up and down my neck, toying with my hair. "Aren't you glad that our life is now, uhm, something more than it used to be?"

"More than you'll ever know, Mom," I sighed, wistful and hopeful at the same time.

Her expression became very serious. "You're beginning a romantic relationship with your own mother, Ricky, and all that that implies," she said somberly, her expression anxious.

"Everything is going to be different for us from now on. Whatever happens going forward, there's no way to set the clock back to before July 4th now," she said, searching my eyes.

I held her gaze, matching her serious expression with my own. Recognizing that we were touching on the very foundation of our budding relationship, I quickly pulled the car into a tree-lined side street and parked, shutting off the engine.

"Mom, not a minute goes by where I don't think about what happened last night," I said, turning to her, my voice just above a whisper.

"I know what I want," I said, hesitantly, heart beating faster. I was about to say it out loud for the first time, not only to myself, but also to Mom. I was terrified and I think it showed.

Mom saw my trepidation, but misinterpreted it, her eyes starting to brim with tears.

"Ricky," she pleaded, taking my hand. "Ricky, this is terribly important. You have to tell me right this minute if...if you're having...guilt...or doubts," she said, voice breaking.

Mom's misreading of my hesitation was such a surprise, I laughed, finally breaking the anxiety that had made it so difficult to speak.

I reached over to gently rub the tear off her cheek. Sighing with relief, I smiled tenderly and said calmly,

"I have no doubts, Mom, none at all. It's just, it's just that I've never said it out loud before, even to myself, so it's a little scary."

Drawing in a deep breath, I took both her hands back again.

"I know what I want, what I need, Mom. I want a life, a life with you," I said, my own eyes glistening.

Mom began crying again, this time smiling at the same time. She paused for a moment, wiping her tears, sniffing, "God, what a rollercoaster this all is! Look at me, I'm a complete emotional wreck and I'm making a horrible mess of my makeup. What you must think of me!"