Call Me By Your Name

She came like a breeze and wrapped my mother in her tender arms. My mother rejoiced in her embrace and giggled like a teenager in the arms of her lover. She let go of my mother with a sense of longing in her eyes, as if she were trying too hard not to do something inappropriate.

A person freshly out of her teenage era had nothing to do with two middle-aged women interacting. So I didn't budge from my lounge chair but my eyes scanned every move they made. I traced their steps and soon they were standing before me. My mother proudly shoved her friend in my face, saying my full name and stating how good of a daughter I was to her.

I let out a polite 'hello, and she said it back to me. Afterwards, my mother took her by the hand and disappeared into the house. I stayed on the lawn till the sun completely went down the horizon and the words on the pages (of the books I was reading) were ineligible to me.

The next time I saw her was during the dinner, she was wearing the softest night gown I had ever seen, maroon in color with a front wrap closure. While I was stuffing my stomach with the not-so-appetizing supper, my mother disclosed the reason for the presence of her friend. She was to house-sit. My immediate response was to fight back but I realized I wasn't a teenager anymore so I shouldn't throw a tantrum. Instead, I took a minute and came to the conclusion that it was better if she would be here to take care of the house for I would not have to be alert through the entire duration of my mother's absence. Bonus: There won't be any strangers getting paid to do so.

During that supper, I also got to know that the friend of the mother was quite young. I mean she was in her mid thirties. I wonder how my mother and she met each other. And why?

The night wasn't rolling smoothly and I kept tossing and turning wide awake. I slapped my hand on the mattress beside me, searching for my book but I felt nothing. I grunted in disappointment when I recalled misplacing my book somewhere downstairs. I got up and walked downstairs. I held onto the railing firmly and navigated each staircase carefully, taking one step at a time. I had this phobia that someday I would skip one stair and die. Some sort of morbid premonition, if you will. I don't know how I got it or when?

When I landed my last step safely, my ear perked up at a certain noise coming from my parents bedroom, which occupied only my mother (after my father died) and now the housesitter. I wonder if they were catching up after reuniting after a long time. I took firm steps and found the door to be open just a nick. Suddenly, an ominous feeling caught my chest and I thought of running back to my bedroom but a spark went through my core at the thought of peeking into my mother's bedroom, which she now occupied with her friend.

I allowed just my eyes to linger by the creak and kept the rest of my body hidden. I was standing in an awkward position but the waist ache was soon forgotten when I saw my mother on her knees. Her dirty blonde hair, which was once tied in a neat ponytail, was now in distress. My vague sense of pity for my mother had changed into a genuine feeling of disgust for this wretchedness. Her face was leaning into the space between her legs. The front-closure nightgown was open to full view. Because of my mother, I saw the arch of her taut waist form and then wane. My eyes then instinctively went to her face. Her eyes once shut with pleasure opened as soon as mine fell on them.

I ran back up as light-footed as possible and buried myself under my cover as quickly as possible.

The next morning, with agile steps, I found myself in the kitchen. I prepared myself a cup of coffee. On the fridge, I found the note from my mother saying she left at dawn and I too had to take active part in taking care of the house.

"G'morning,"

My heart leapt into my throat.

"Jeez, you scared me."

She gave a hearty laugh but never apologized. She was still in her front closure gown from the night before and I could not shake the image of my mother kneeling before her. Pleasuring her. And then she caught me literally red-faced.

"Good Morning, Miss-"

"Can I have a cup of coffee too, please?"

I placed my coffee cup down and started brewing a cup for her.

We both drank our coffee in silence. I wanted to leave the kitchen so I left a quarter of my coffee and placed the cup in the sink. She did the same, but hers was empty. Being in her vicinity bothered me. Involuntarily, I took a step away from her and walked out of the kitchen.

If she weren't sleeping with my mother, then I would have kept her some company; any company, but no, that's not the reason. I was feeling guilty for snooping on them. Guilty for snooping? Guilty for---?

A knock on my door made me jump yet again.

"Can you please fetch me a clean towel? I want to take a bath," she said.

I said I could, and she left.

I went into the utility closet and pulled out a towel. Our house had two bathrooms, and I had to check which one she was using. She wasn't using the closed inside bathroom; she was using the guest bathroom, which had a big wall-sized window over-looking the vast foliage and pulled in fresh air.

The door was ajar. I knocked and got a response to just walk in.

Her maroon gown was on the floor, and she sat in the bathtub with water still running, filling the tub. She gave me a toothy smile.

"It's okay," she said, and I approached her.

I squatted beside the bathtub, holding the towel in my lap and clutching its edge. Our faces were impossibly close to each other. A mere inch in, and we could kiss.

So we did.

Her wet hands held my face, and we kissed.

The kiss wasn't something I thought a kiss would feel like. She tasted like coffee, yes, but rather than feeling liberated, I felt like retreating into my protective cocoon. Then, as if doing the most natural thing in this world, she placed a kiss on my neck, igniting a fire similar to what I felt last night. Along with a feeling of tickle that dampened my core.

I stood up, leaving the towel on the floor in the process.

"Hey, don't leave. You could shampoo my hair. Please,"

Was I supposed to babysit her? Wasn't she my mother's lover? What was she doing?

"Why do you have this deer-like gaze on your face, sweetie?"

"We should not have done that," I finally said.

"And you should not have snooped on us," she said without missing a beat.

What was she?

"You are more than capable of knowing why. Don't you?" she added. The water filled the tub, and she reached forth and turned off the tap.

Now that the entire room went silent without the trickling water, I realized how secluded I was with her and my thoughts.

Her naked form rose up from the tub and walked out of it. Water droplets dripped down her torso and legs as she came to stand right before me. That guest bathroom never felt claustrophobic like this before. Her wet nipples burned into my retina. The water conspired with the sunlight to appear like nectar leaking out of her. She placed her hands on my upper arms and gave them a willful squeeze.

Deciding not to hold back anymore, I held her left breast in my hand and latched my mouth onto it. My whole body gave a celebratory shudder. I took a mouthful of her nipple and chewed on it a little. The flavor in my mouth was nothing but water and skin, but it brought me great pleasure. She encouraged me by holding the back of my head and pulling me more towards her chest. I repeated myself for her other breast. When I was done, my jaws ached, and she seemed pleased.

"You seemed to like it very much," she said, holding her own tits and rubbing them. "Would you like some more time with them?"

I said nothing, but she took it as affirmation.

"Let's save more for the night. Would you be kind and shampoo my hair for me?" She walked back into the tub and stretched out.

I licked my air-dried lips, but I knew more saliva would only make it unbearable. I politely followed her and shampooed her hair thoroughly.

That night, we ordered our food and ate quietly, probably basking in each other's presence. Afterwards, we didn't see each other until bedtime.

I placed the dishes in the dish washer and made sure every single door and window was locked properly. I checked the kitchen area thoroughly, which I had never done before. I was delaying our meet-up, but why?

With heavy steps and a pounding heart, I reached my mother's bedroom, where the lady lay on the bed, reading. My nails were digging themselves into my palms, and my mouth started to salivate.

"Oh! You are here," she said, placing her book down and relaxing her posture before stretching her hands out for me. "Come here,"

I climbed on the bed and right into her arms. She let me snuggle into her embrace. When was the last time anyone held me like this? With each year that passes, my childhood slips away from me. With me desperately trying to hold onto my innocence, I realize I am only trying to grab fine sand. She let me breathe in her scent. Warm and slightly briny.

Oh, my poor thing," she said. There was nothing vulnerable about her; instead, I felt a deep sense of pride in her voice, which she felt while nursing me.

She broke free from me just for a moment to lift off her t-shirt and pulling me closer again. The sweat on her breasts formed a radiant layer. What else could I do? In my mouth, her nipple went, and I clamped my lips around them.

I had read somewhere that newborns gave new mothers a really hard time while feeding. I wanted to give her a hard time too. I latched onto her and sucked hard. She squealed in pain, but that didn't stop me. She slipped her hands inside me t-shirt and played with my nipples instead.

Squeezing my legs together, I got hold of her hand from under my t-shirt and directed her towards my core.

She was swift in her motion, and before I knew it, her fingers were running up and down my slit. I let go of her breast and started sucking on the other one. I wanted to make her boobs sore, pink, and resined. When I treated the breast with the same roughness, I did her previous breast, she shoved her finger in me so deeply that I felt her knuckles firmly pressing against my entrance. A grunt escaped my mouth as her other hand held me close to her body, not letting any heat escape between us.

She freed me from her nipples and kissed my lips. She nibbled on my tongue for a bit before letting me go. I was fingered until I was a pleading mess. When I regained my senses, I held her breasts from below, pushing them outward into a larger dune, and I happily buried my face in them, receiving a joyous laugh from her.

~~

"Sweetie?... Sweetie...?

It was my mother's voice.

"Sweetie, you should not be sleeping here like this," she said and walked back into the house.

"Fuck"

I was in my lounge chair with my book in my hand.