Clarissa

Having picked up the suspender belt, she placed it about her waist and clipped it up at the front, spinning it around her body so that it sat the correct way round. Just putting this piece of erotic lingerie on, added to her excitement ten-fold, her fingers, were hard-pressed not to accept the demands of her now very wet vagina, and busied themselves in setting the suspender belt straight on her hips. The salmon-pink piece of apparel, had little red roses embroidered in the panels, a lace frill along the bottom edge, and much smaller lace trimming to all four of the straps. The garment framed her pubic mound as it was designed to do, drawing attention to that very private of areas.

Clarissa picked up the packet of black stockings and drew them out carefully. They were seamed and had an exquisitely decorated stocking top that was slightly elasticated. The fine filigreed lacework at the top had woven flowers and leaves in the design that pleased Clarissa as she gathered the soft and sexy material up in her thumbs and fingers. She raised her leg and slipped her foot into the glistening weave, setting her foot onto the corner of the bed as she slowly drew up the flagrantly erotic, black silk. She pulled the last few inches along her thigh, then fastened the front strap, then the side strap, before repeating the process on her other leg.

Standing once more before the mirror, she adjusted the straps and the height of the stockings until they were level, she then turned about and looked at the back view to ensure the seams were straight. Her rounded peachy bum was equally framed nicely by the suspender straps, something that had not gone unnoticed by her. After a few contortions, she managed to get the stockings to be at the perfect height and to have perfectly straight seams. She faced the mirror once again, and bending forwards, ran her hands from her calves to her thighs. It is a lie that this type of apparel was made by men for the pleasure of men. Clarissa loved to wear stockings, she found them empowering, feeling that she could control men, by allowing them to see as much or as little up her skirt and along her legs as she wanted. Men were after all, in the main, stimulated more by the visual appearance of a woman, than by her personality.

For Clarissa, she knew the pleasure of crossing and uncrossing her legs, whilst wearing such apparel. The rasp of the material encasing her legs as her thighs ran over each other, she often found a distraction. She had sat through many a meeting thinking of nothing else. Just wondering if the men about her could hear the same 'swish' as she moved her legs, and whether they wanted to see and feel her stockings too?

Clarissa picked up her panties and bending before the mirror once more, slipped her feet through the small elasticated bands of material, before pulling them up to settle in place, at last removing the temptation from her sight. She sighed as she looked at herself. Even though she was thinking it herself, she was one sexy looking woman. Her nipples were still spoiling for a fight, but were now, hopefully out of harm's way?

A creak of the floorboards outside of her bedroom, made Clarissa turn quickly. Her door was open a little wider than she had left it, she thought, but could not be sure; but she could now see out into the hallway. Had her son been spying on her? Watching her get dressed, seeing her naked and very nearly touching herself? She quickly flung on her robe and marched to the door to confront her 'peeping Tom', to catch Chris in the act. But as she pulled open the door, she was surprised at how disappointed she felt when she did not find him there.

Clarissa was not a prude, for many years she had bathed with her son, when he was young. And she would often dress, with him playing in her room or sleep with him in her bed, when he needed comfort. But as he grew, she felt that these things had become less and less proper. Of course, it was a convention of society. After all, who should say how a mother brought up her child? But like most parents, Clarissa had followed suit and so it had now been many years since Chris had seen her naked, and equally, that she had seen him naked. Although in those years, she hadn't changed much, other than getting perhaps a little less flabby and a bit more toned. Chris on the other-hand, had changed a lot. He was physically bulky, but with muscle rather than fat. He was tall, quite a bit more than she and he was fully developed in other areas as she had seen early that morning, quite well developed too? More so in all counts, than her ex-husband, who had played only a small role in Chris' up-bringing as he was always at work.

Clarissa tutted at herself, for allowing her mind to wonder to places that she should not allow it to. Chris had been passed her room, because she could now hear him in his. But his door was properly closed, so perhaps that was what she had heard? He could not have moved that quickly? She turned back into her room and pushed the door to. Removing her robe, she returned to the mirror and slipped on her blouse. "My God woman," she chastised herself, "you are not only hearing things, you are wishing for things, both of which you should not be thinking about. You were disappointed he wasn't there weren't you?" She left her own question unanswered.

Doing up her blouse and then slipping her skirt on, she picked up some heels, and walked to Chris' door. "OK Chris, I'm off now." She was surprised with the speed at which he opened the door and took a step back. "Have a good day."

"You too mum. You look very nice." He leaned in for a cuddle and a kiss, despite now only being in his boxers.

Clarissa immediately felt the stirrings of his manhood, or thought she did, but all too quickly he had pulled back and turned away. "Text me if you want to meet for lunch," he threw over his shoulder, then walked into his en-suite.

"I........ will," Clarissa called after him. Standing on the landing contemplating what may or may not have just happened. Then with a 'swish, swish' of silk stockings, she walked down the stairs and headed off to work.

Her drive was a blur of autopiloted motoring, her reactions instinctive and automatic. Her mind was not on the journey, but on her son. It was fixated and that fixation was on one particular part of his body. And then there was the thoughts that he might have been spying on her as she got dressed? She had been naked long enough. Had turned a number of times to the door. Had nearly touched herself. And of course, had bent over a number of times with her bum to the door, and she knew that with her vagina in its more than heightened sexual state, had he been looking, he would have seen all that she had to offer. "Had to offer?" She suddenly voiced. "Had to offer Chris? Why are you thinking like this? Why are you not appalled that he might have seen you completely naked, sexually aroused and getting dressed in erotic lingerie?"

Being at work was no better for her either, the morning was spent around the boardroom table, or 'boredroom' as they liked to call it. The meeting was about business continuity and she could safely say, that she hadn't listened to a word. She would normally enjoy meetings in this room. The table had a smoked-glass top and she knew that those who sat opposite her could, and quite often did, have the pleasure of watching her cross and uncross her legs. Or on those days when she was in the mood, she would give them a peak of stocking top, on some adventurous days, she had flashed even more than that. But not today, her brain was in turmoil over her thoughts and their content.

Today she sat opposite Andy and Jordan, they were both young lads and although nothing special, she would certainly have given them a display. They had been grateful recipients of it before, and were obviously keen for more, the way their eyes were burning into her. It was certainly not helping her level of arousal, that was for sure. She was reaching the point where something had to give and she had no idea which way things would go?

At 11:00, the meeting had finished, she let everyone leave, on the pretence that she wanted to check her phone. As it happened, Chris had texted asking her to meet him at the local garden centre, at 13:00. She smiled to herself and stood. Checking the back of her skirt for obvious signs of her current state of sexual stimulation. There was indeed a wet-patch on her skirt, from her juices seeping through. The postage-stamp-sized panties that she had on, unsurprisingly had not been able to contain her lubrication. She huffed in annoyance at herself, and turned her skirt, so that the wet patch faced the front, and merely looked like she had spilt her coffee. But anyone close to her, would be able to smell her aroma, her pheromones, her sex scent. She applied some perfume to disguise it.

Clarissa found that as time neared to her lunch-date with her son, her stomach was beginning to churn, and the heat in her loins was re-ignited. She felt like she was going on a first date, not meeting her son at a garden centre for a stale sandwich and vending machine coffee?

At 10 minutes to 13:00, Clarissa nipped to the lady's washroom, and walked into a cubicle, closing the door. She immediately pulled up her skirt and began to preen herself; adjusting her stocking height, checking that the seams were still straight. A thought flashed into her mind about her panties, should she remove them? She dismissed that immediately, if she was thinking about that, then she was thinking about only one thing, the culmination of which would result in.... She dropped her skirt and walked out of the cubicle and applied fresh lipstick at the mirror, then left.

The garden centre had changed much in the years since she had last been there. It was now much more up-market and seeing Chris waiting for her as she arrived, made her face beam in a smile. It had been a few short hours since she had seen him, but it had felt like years?

"Come on then you," he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her along, much like he had as a child, steering her into a toy shop. She smiled at the thought, but now her hand tingled, and her body broke out in goose-bumps. Now it felt very different for her. "We're a little late, I booked it for on the hour. But never mind, sure you can be a little late returning to work?" He said with mischief in his eyes.

"Don't need to go back. Decided to book the afternoon off, so you have me for as long as you want me....." Why had she said that? Her head was a maelstrom of thoughts and wishes that made her legs shake in anticipation.

"Great," he said, well that will make up for your tardiness then, you never could get ready on time."

"Hey cheeky, just watch it, you are not too old for a smack on the bottom." She playfully smacked his hard buttock, wincing as it made her hand sting.

Chris laughed at her face, "Not too old maybe, but a darn sight bigger, and a lot harder I think you will find!? Besides you spank me, and I'll spank you back." He lifted his had as if to smack her.

"Don't you dare young man."

Chris just laughed, leaving Clarissa to wonder why hearing Chris say he was 'harder' and thinking of him spanking her, was doing very strange and very sexual things to her. She could feel that her face was flushed and knew that meant her neck and chest would follow suit. She looked away from her son, trying to give her body time to recover, but Chris had abruptly stopped and she walked into him. He turned to face her, "mother?"

"Sorry darling, distracted."

"Well get your mind back on track, you are here with me, so should not be thinking of anyone else?"

'If only he knew....' She thought to herself. "So, why have you brought me here?"

"Because of this." He pointed at what had been the owners house, last time she had been to this garden centre. Now it was a small restaurant by the looks of things, call the Twig and Spoon.

Chris had approached the door, and was met immediately by an attractive waitress. It was evident by the body language and the relaxed way in which her son talked to the girl, that they knew each other. The girl gave Chris some menus and pointed back into the restaurant. He then turned to her. "Coming?"

Clarissa nodded and then caught up with him at the table where he waited holding the chair. "You sit here." Chris said, ensuring that he helped her move the chair into the table as she sat down. Her skirt had ridden up her legs in the process, rewarding Chris with a vast expanse of long toned thighs encased in black silk stockings, which at this point, culminated at the hem of her skirt with the black decorated band of the stocking top. Clarissa hadn't noticed, but as she looked up at her son, smiling at his gentlemanly gesture, she was shocked at how his eyes burned with an intensity she had not often seen. It made her look back down and spotting her skirt's transgression, she slowly corrected it. But Chris' eyes had moved onto the valley and mountains of her chest. Standing behind her as he was, he had an uninterrupted view down her blouse, and was held captive by his mother's beautiful golden cleavage, with large globes of firm flesh either side, supported and uplifted, by her salmon-pink bra. He stood a little too long, and stared with a little too much intensity for propriety's sake.

"Well, this is nice." Clarissa said, looking up at her son again. "Are you going to stand behind me all day, or are you going to sit down?"

Chris was jolted out of his pleasurable reverie and sat opposite his mother without a word. "So, how did you manage to find this place? I can't see you coming into a garden centre that often?"

"Elise, the waitress at the door, told me about it. Said that she had been working here for a while and wondered why she had not seen me here. I told her that I didn't know, so came over for a coffee, and have been doing that on an off for a while. Just thought you would fancy it too?"

"Oh, I see. And are you....that is, is Elise your....are you seeing Elise?"

"Yes," said Chris, leaving his mother to ponder for a while before finishing, "I can see her right now, in fact she is coming to us."

Clarissa reached across the table and slapped her son on the hand, "You know what I mean."

Chris smiled back. "Stop fishing mother."

"Right then Chris, will it be your usual or are we going to order from the menu?"

"I'll have my usual please Lise. And whilst you are here, can I introduce my mother. Mother, this is Elise, we have known each other since school."

Clarissa smiled at the very attractive girl. "Happy to meet you, Elise. Surprised that we have not met before if you are such good friends?"

"Yes," Chris said, "a bit strange that one. To be honest we didn't really get on that much at school, don't know why. But since we have finished, it has been a different story. But we'll talk about that later. Would you like to order mother?"

Clarissa placed her order, and with a little bob of thanks, Elise left to move onto another table. Clarissa watched her son's eyes follow the beautiful girl as she flitted about the restaurant, and felt a wrench in her stomach. She knew instantly what the feeling was, and desperately tried to push it as far down as she could get it. "So, young man, is Elise a possible girlfriend then?"

"Mother!"

"Well, I need to know. That way I know whether to be jealous or not."

"Jealous?" Chris laughed, "says a woman that looks as good as you look?"

"What about the way I look?" She couldn't help but feel a little flutter in her stomach at his praising words.

"Well, you.....well I...." Chris found himself a little tongue-tied and flustered and he coloured in embarrassment. Clarissa waited for him to finish, knowingly increasing his torment with the awkwardness of the silence. "Well, I think.." Chris stumbled on, "I think that you look very good for your... a....for...as much as..."

"OK," Clarissa stepped in, laughing. "I'll stop your torment there, before you say something that I might regret, like, 'you look good for your age', or 'as much as a son can appreciate how his mother looks', or something like that."

Chris looked guilty, knowing that that was exactly what he was going to say, but also knowing that the reason he was stumbling over his words was because he was thinking something completely different.

Clarissa pushed on. "Well, I will take it as a compliment anyway, as they are rather few and far between, and I'm sure that that was what you intended?"

"It was mum, really. God, I think you are a very attractive woman, not just today, but every day. Not just with what you are wearing now, but however you dress. I think you are very beautiful, and I think what I was trying to say was...."

Clarissa's heart was missing beats as she waited for Chris to finish. Her stomach was in knots and once again the burning in her loins had re-ignited. "Yes, go on..." She looked penetratingly into his eyes as he struggled to carry on. But he had already said enough to ruin her appetite; for food anyway, and to have destroyed her composure. She found herself fidgeting, crossing and uncrossing her legs, hearing and feeling the erotic rasping of the silk upon her thighs. Her breathing had become rather ragged and her increasing arousal was beginning to worry her, she felt at any time she might suddenly disgrace herself in front of the many people in the restaurant, and worse, her son.

She knew she was wet, more than wet; had followed her son's eyes numerous times as they wandered to her breasts, she was sure that her nipples were more than making themselves known, and was also sure that he had noticed. Had she covered them with her hands, she knew the large erections would still be visible! To top that her décolletage, neck and face were in full flush. Her body had pulled out all the stops in showing her son all of the signs of her arousal. But Chris seemed not to notice, so engrossed was he in trying to get the right words out.

"So," Clarissa spoke again, her voice suddenly low, quiet and seductive, with no small amount of tremble in it, "what is it you are trying to get out?"

Chris' eyes shot to hers, "What I am trying to say, is that with dad gone, and you being such a catch, well, I can't understand why you haven't found someone. And for you to say that compliments are few and far between is just not true. Men may not come up to you and say you are a very beautiful woman, but I've seen how they 'eye' you up and I'm sure you have too."

Clarissa's delight at Chris' previous words came crashing down around her. "Sorry?"

"I said..."

"I know what you said. Do you mean why haven't I replaced your father with someone else? Did it not occur to you that I was thinking of you, protecting you?" Clarissa seemed a little hurt and that was exactly what Chris had been trying to avoid.

"But that is my point. And another reason why you are such a wonderful person and mother. You do so much, so much for other people, even for me, but when do you stop and think about you? I want you to consider yourself for once. I want you to go and get what you want and need. Don't consider anything but what you need." He picked up her hand and held it tightly. "After all, you deserve it. All those years looking after me, pretty much on your own, I know how useless dad was. And I know how children can interfere with your love-life. Now you must grab what you want, before it passes you by. So, let's start right now um, what is it that you want at this very moment?"

Clarissa squeezed his hand and looked into his deep green eyes. They were his father's eyes, but without the coldness. They showed so much more compassion, love and something that made her catch her breath. Should she, could she tell him what she really wanted, what she really needed? Did he not already know? Was he not just asking her to acquiesce to her feelings for him? She scooted forwards, knees together and felt his legs on either side of hers, underneath the small dining table. "Chris......I.......I.....simply want......y.."