Challenge

He saw an alluring version of Ellen, who he now knew deftly teased and danced, holding court practically whenever she wanted. There was also the nicely touched red lipstick that matched her nails and the made-up cheeks that told him a truth. She had prepared for this.

It surprised him. And, he let it excite him. Maybe I'm off, but I don't think so.

Side by side, they took in the works. He'd reviewed the selections in advance, and he guided them through some landscapes at first, but steered them towards more sensual subjects ahead. He enjoyed seeing her so immersed in the paintings.

"I like us doing things like this." His eyes stayed on the paintings.

She sent a quick glance his way, making sure he wasn't kidding, but then nodded. "I do, too."

Standing in front of a painting where a woman in a flowing dress languished beside a lake, he spoke quietly to her.

"I think I should own-up to something."

Her face riveted over to his. "You do?"

He waited a couple of more seconds, staring straight at the painting while she hung on his thought.

"Yeah." He walked them on forward. "I talked to Beth. She set me straight on something."

"She did?" Some strong disbelief was in her tone.

"She said I wasn't around much when you and dad divorced."

She diverted her attention away to the painting they came to next, and she came to a stop. An angel flew about in the painting, and there was something wickedly troublesome milling below the angel.

Her response came muted back. "That's not true. You were in school."

Her graciousness hit him in the gut, and he didn't expect to feel this way.

"He was fucking stupid for divorcing you."

Her head swung to him and stared. He never used the f-word with her.

"Tom, you... . I... ." She swayed a bit. "You're sweet to say that."

She hugged him, and he returned the embrace. He walked them further.

"I mean it." He got himself back on track with what he wanted to explain to her. "And lately, well, I just see how... I don't know... how special you are."

Her eyes regarded him with some skepticism. "Where is this coming from?"

"I mean it. You're beautiful, smart. Like last night, when you danced, guys couldn't help but look. I don't think you know just how much you have going for you."

Slowly, she started nodding. "Ah, I know where this is going."

"Huh?"

"This is about Gary. You're trying to get me away from Gary."

A nervous chuckle sounded from him. "No. That's not what this is."

"It's not?"

"Not directly, no." Immediately he knew how dubious this sounded. He tried again. "Hey, I'm not trying to break you guys up. I'm really not. But--"

"But?"

"You're way more woman for him."

"Way more woman? What does that mean?"

"It means you're way beyond him. And, he's not enough for you."

"Tom, wait a minute. Gary's a good man. He's good to me. I don't think you understand. He's just not like you, that's all. That doesn't make him bad."

"I'm not saying he's bad. I'm just saying... ."

She stared up at him.

He tried to be delicate. "I think, ultimately, you need more."

Her face tensed. "I need more?"

He looked around. All the paintings reminded him of her many sides, her layers. He tried to use that.

"I'm saying I know you. We're alike in a lot of ways. And... you have waters that run deep."

This seemed to rock her, and she faintly grinned, but also shifted about uneasily.

"Tom. He's a good man. I'm not getting any younger. He's good to me. I'm happy with him."

"I'm sure you are. You're probably, like, great friends."

This went a little far, and he could tell.

She weakly replied. "We are great friends."

"Good, good. I think that's great. But... you deserve to be satisfied, too."

She recoiled and her eyes blinked hard. "Satisfied?"

This was too far as well, but he wasn't going to back off it. It was what he believed. In his gut.

Her words came shakily again. "You don't understand."

They both faced a painting of a couple in an embrace. Tom stood close to her, and put his arm around her. His hand rested just above her hip.

She took notice of his hand, glimpsed up to him, and then stared back to the painting.

He sensed her draw a deep breath, and he lowered his voice in her ear.

"He makes you comfortable. I get that. But you need more. That's just what I believe."

Her face turned to his, her eyes no doubt wide, but his eyes stayed straight at the canvas. He kept his words quiet.

"Like I said. Your waters run deep. You know that. I know that. We're both the same way."

Her tone matched his, and with a breathiness he adored.

"You've never talked to me like this."

"Something else Beth mentioned that I didn't know."

"Yeah?"

"She said you 'dated around' after the divorce."

"I'd been married for twenty years, Tom. You don't understand."

He gave it some thought.

She spoke up. "If you're suggesting I was somehow promiscuous, I wasn't."

Now it was he who was thrown some.

She added more. "Not that I didn't think about it. But I wasn't."

He was searching for some good response when she went on. She'd steadied.

"But I shouldn't tell you that, should I?" Her tone came sharp. "There's some things I just can't say to you."

"No," he was quick with it. "There's nothing you can't say to me."

She went from firmness to being truly taken back. "There's not?"

"Things are different now. We're different now."

He finally eased his eyes down at hers. Their faces were close. He liked how her mouth was just parted, like she needed the air. A look of surprise was in her eyes, but so was an awe.

Her eyes batted a couple of quick times. "How so?"

He shrugged and led them on down the hall.

They viewed a few more exhibits, but it was getting late.

...

6.

The drive home was quiet. In the dark comfort of the leather seats and with the occasional flashes of streetlight on them, she brought back up her question with him.

"You said back there that things were different now. What did you mean?"

Leaning her way, he rested onto his arm perched on the middle console. The effect was to let his right hand dangle just over her lap. A moment passed and he thought how to answer.

Her eyes were on him. She waited. Likely she didn't know what to think.

"Well," he tried to sound delicate, "to me, we're older now. I mean, I feel older. And... well, I feel closer to you."

They had pulled into her driveway, and he turned off the car to walk her up. She sat, absorbing what he said, and he followed up.

"Do you? Do you feel closer to me?"

Her eyes slowly came to face his. She nodded. "Yes."

He smiled to her. Then, feeling strongly and not caring how she might react, he edged his face to hers. He stopped right before his lips could touch hers. A second passed where she could anticipate their touch.

She didn't move. Didn't even seem to breathe.

He closed the last bit to brush his lips on hers. It was a kiss, but more. A sensual trace that ended with a kiss.

As he gradually withdrew, she stayed still there with her eyes closed. Only after she sensed his shift back did her eyes blink back open and she gathered herself.

He got out of the car and was swift to her side. He held her door for her, as she got out. Her quick smile to him seemed shy as she acknowledged his politeness.

His blood surged. His hand rested at her back as he walked her up. His cock engorged in his trousers as he let himself believe he had gotten past some hurdle with her.

At least, he had thrown her out of her usual way of thinking about them, and as this conclusion hit him, he chastised himself. What the fuck is wrong with you? Have you lost your mind?

The growing bulge down the left side of his crotch confirmed for him that he must have lost his mind. But he didn't care. Suddenly, her niceness, the softness about her, her femininity, it all combined to stir a rage in him to want her. Everything else be damned.

...

7.

It was a short walk to her front door, an entrance he'd approached many times before but not like this. She'd found her keys from her purse, and he gently retrieved them from her. Slightly taken with his assertiveness, she simply watched as he unlocked the door and led them in.

A lamp lit the foyer, but he also slipped around the corner to a light switch for the living room, and flipped that, too. A couple steps back, and he rejoined her as she paused in an uncertain stance in the foyer. Her wondering face stared up at him.

He wasn't quite sure what he was going to do. But he knew what he wanted to do. He spoke evenly as he embraced her.

"I had a great time tonight."

"I did, too."

Their eyes lingered on each other's, and he tried to ignore a bemused look from her. At least she wasn't trying to step away. Her reactions had all been positive.

His hand raised and went to her hair. He watched as his fingers ran through her thick honey strands there. He loved how smooth it felt.

Rather than move away or question, her head tilted into his hand. Very slightly, her head moved against his hand. Her eyes narrowed.

He felt his cock pulse.

When his other hand came to her cheek and cupped there, his face started lowering to hers.

She didn't move but her voice strained. "Tom."

His lips had almost touched to hers, when she flinched hard.

"What are—"

Her face swayed to the side to evade him, and he stopped.

She didn't back from him, only glared questioningly up at him.

He moved to her again, and she again went to the side.

"Tom, we—-"

Undeterred, he closed once more, and to his utter shock, she didn't move to side away. Instead, her mouth lifted. Her lips puckered to accept his kiss.

He made his lips soften to hers, and after savoring her tenderness a moment, his mouth went into an instinctive taste of her, where he massaged his lips at hers and then widened, in turn widening and opening her lips.

Swiftly, eagerly, his tongue slipped into her mouth. Feeling her warm, wet tongue on his, he braced for her push or slap that would come. His tongue teased at hers.

There was no push or slap, but her mouth tightened onto his, and her tongue and cheeks pressed to try to keep up with him. When they both moaned in each other's mouth, his one hand stayed in her hair, and his other hand wrapped behind her back, pulling her closer.

His palm went flat against the middle of her ass, and it lifted at her up and forward against him. He mashed her middle flush up against his raging hardness, and even through his trousers and her dress, he could tell he'd connected to her soft crotch.

She jumped and she started to wiggle from him, but her mouth didn't lift from his, and their tongues kept dancing. He resettled his hand for a better grip and pulled her crotch onto him again. This time he burrowed to work his shaft between her legs, and his hand rubbed vigorously to slide her against him.

She squealed sharply into his mouth and slumped back against the front door. His hand kept rustling her hair while their mouths moved tightly about. His other hand pumped up and down her ass to generate strokes of her clothed pussy against his hard cock.

Suddenly he felt something that caused his own grunt back into her mouth. Unmistakable. Urgent.

Her legs had splayed outward when his hand had pressed her ass hard, but this reaction was entirely her own.

Her crotch started grinding back against him. She had a hand in his hair and one on his shoulder. Her hips moved desperately.

A fleeting thought hit him to reach under her dress. But he instantly decided any interruption of their connection would end this. He didn't dare.

Kissing her hard, he brought his other hand to her ass, and when he got a good grip, both hands hoisted up. Straight up the door, he lifted her to just above him, and propped her to give them both leverage.

The angle of her face higher than his seemed to ease her mouth further onto his. His tongue swirled deeper and she sucked down on it.

His hands curling her bottom up and down, together with her openly riding him with her legs wrapped at his hips, banged her against the door.

Still flailing, a sustained crying sound started from her. Softening and sharpening with inhales and exhales, the emotion erupted from deep in her. Her hands squeezed fistfuls of his shirt at his shoulders as she started riding out her orgasm.

They were still pumping against one another and her crying continued as he glimpsed to her face. Her own eyes squeezed shut and her face twisted. Her cries grew louder as her mouth couldn't stay at his. Her cries reverberated in the quiet house.

Her torso and face kept bobbing with their thrusts as her head tilted just up. The sight of her losing herself in her ecstasy was too much, and spasming shot straight from his balls and cock. Vicious grunts sounded out from his throat and now he couldn't help pounding her against the door. Wave and wave of sheer pleasure washed over every fiber of him, rendering him lighter than he'd ever felt.

He wasn't sure how long it had lasted, but the next thing he knew they were descending to the floor. Draped over him, she panted and some mumbled short shrills kept up as she calmed.

He too tried to orient. He couldn't believe this had all happened, but he also couldn't believe how intensely he had just cum. This was far beyond anything he had experienced before.

They stayed settled in a heap a while, with his hands stroking her hair and her cheeks.

...

8.

Sunday brought playful texts and some sweet thoughts back and forth. They luxuriated in a forbidden aftermath they agreed they couldn't share with anyone. This only enlivened their new intimacy.

As much as Sunday pleased, their Monday disturbed. Disheartened.

Tom didn't like it.

He whipped the shower curtain hard, closing it in the gym locker room, and groused once more about having had to cram in a short workout. Only some cardio and lifts. Shit.

His mother's words resounded in his ears. "Listen, I've made an appointment with a therapist. Her name is Dr. Ava Gant. Her office is north of your gym. The appointment's at six."

He remembered she had paused at that point. Drawing a long breath, she had quietened but gotten out, "I want you to be there, too. It's important."

She'd made them an appointment with Dr. Ava Gant? A therapist? Unless she was a sex therapist, he didn't see the utility.

He hurried in the shower, and reflections on his night with her caused his cock to swell under the hot water. His hands lathered soap over and over his taut abs, and the suds trickled over his dangling cock jutting below.

He briefly considered taking care of it, but didn't.

He worried this appointment she'd made meant she had a major problem with their going any further.

He ran through his mind how their talk at the museum had been so intimate. How he'd treated her differently with his taunts. Especially after she'd practically admitted a lack of passion with Gary.

He expected not to like what he was going to hear, but he vowed he'd be polite and respectful.

The bottom line was that he wanted them to be physical. But at the same time, he'd show respect for however she wanted to handle this.

He reminded himself to listen, really listen, to what she was going to say with this therapist.

Who knows? Maybe she won't even indicate anything more than just knowing this was wrong. Then again, it was likely that she had thought this over and had freaked out. He didn't agree, but ... .

No matter what though, there was at least one thing that would make this worth it. Even the crammed workout and abrupt change in plans paled next to how he'd spend the early evening.

He'd experience this with her.

...

9.

The appointment started promptly at six.

Tom had barely settled into his chair across from Dr. Ava Gant, and he was already finding attractive things about her. Flowing black hair may have been pulled tightly back, but it made her high cheeks and expressive eyes all the more apparent.

It didn't help that her attention lingered on him after he sat. Her glances to his torso caused him to think of his crisp white shirt and navy jacket likely sprawling there. He was glad he'd paid attention to that top button and closed it, which he didn't always do after work. And he was sure his hair was still damp from his quick shower before driving over.

Sitting in the doctor's quiet office summoned principals' offices or coaches' office from his past. These meetings were always private. The door was always closed. They all happened because of something he had done. Even more, there was always an expectation. He now got that each time it was always expected that he would say something necessary. Something for the principal, the coach, or now this therapist. This was the dance.

A quick glance at his watch reminded him that he just needed to get through this next hour, without managing to piss anyone off. His mother shouldn't have set this up without talking to him. Nevertheless, this had to be important for her.

So, it came down to talking. Explaining. Making everyone comfortable again. He'd get them through it. And, he couldn't care less about whether this MILF therapist judged him after all.

A glance to his side reinforced all this. His mom nicely filled-out a fitted white business dress. Her V-neck stopped right where cleavage began, and a small, tasteful pendant rested on her pale chest. Some red lipstick and liner accentuated her face. Moreover, her hair looked full and tossed. He'd bet money that she'd had it blown out earlier.

Dr. Gant pushed through some preliminaries about confidentiality and honesty before she got to what mattered. He patiently bided his time, and couldn't wait to hear this therapist's reaction. Wonder if this is her first foray into adult incest?

It was Tom who would get rocked first.

Dr. Gant leveled her gaze at him as she explained. "Tom, you should know I've counseled your mom before. Not about today's issue. But from time to time, over the years."

His breath hitched a bit. "You have?"

"Yes. But that's a good thing. It means I already have at least some context when dealing with today."

He took a quick glance to his mom, and she registered some embarrassment. It would have been nice to know she and Dr. Gant had some history beforehand. Whatever. He forced a polite smile.

"Is there any problem?" Dr. Gant asked.

"No, not at all."

"Good. So, Ellen spoke briefly when setting this up. She said there was an encounter between you. A physical encounter."

He cleared his throat and sat straighter. "Well, yeah. I mean, I haven't thought of it as 'an encounter.' I--"

Dr. Gant smiled. "Please, how would you describe it?"

A quick second passed, and all he could think was the word encounter. What was this? Really what was this?

He shifted about some. "Let's see. How would I describe it? Candidly, I'd say it was a series of things."

"Series?" Gant clearly didn't understand.

He could sense his mother squirm beside him.

"Yeah," he took his time, "like, we've always been close."

He took a look over to Ellen, and was happy to see her ease into a warm smile.

He continued. "So, we've talked a lot lately."

Gant chimed in. "Good."

"Yeah, good." He echoed. Sitting forward, he tried hard to make plain the next part. "Then, Friday night, we were at this bar. Several of us. And, I... I... saw her in this new light."

Gant scribbled on a pad, and he tried to ignore it.