In Step Ch. 02

Mark frowned. "I can't believe a girl built as perfect as she is doesn't get asked out all the time."

"I don't think the issue is not being asked out," George pointed out. "It's that she just doesn't accept."

"Is she a lesbo?"

"Why would you think that?" George wanted to know.

"Dad, at my school, girls who look like Kendall are so popular they don't even give guys like me the time of day."

"Well, apparently, Donna has had some bad experiences herself and she thinks that has caused her daughter to be standoffish toward boys," George explained. "Donna thinks you're a very nice, good-looking, young man and that maybe if Kendall spent some time with you, it might show her that not all guys are bad."

"Yeah, I know all about her attitude toward men." Mark briefly told his dad about her comments on Sunday.

"So, you see, her mother's concerns are not unfounded." Trying a different tack, George added, "Look, if nothing else, you'll get to spend a few hours looking at a gorgeous young woman."

And that was the clincher for Mark. The thought had been in the back of his mind throughout this entire conversation, and he had felt some movement between his legs as he replayed a mental picture of her legs in the short blue jean skirt and her perky tits poking out of her tank top. He didn't get to see a girl dressed like that up close and in the comfort of her own home, perhaps there might even be more to see. Of course, he would have to be extremely covert in watching her. He'd already been busted once.

"Well?" George asked. He could tell by his son's expression that he was probably conjuring up a mental image of Kendall.

"Okay," Mark answered, making it sound reluctant, "I'll do it."

* * *

Finally, the big night arrived, and it was a contest to see who was more nervous.

For Mark, it was the anticipation of seeing the gorgeous creature in her natural habitat tempered with her unknown demeanor regarding men and him watching her.

For George, his anxiety was not over the actual date. His and Donna's little after work get-togethers had prepared him for that. It was what would hopefully come after. It had been over a year since he'd had sex with anything other than his hand and he was desperate. But he was enough of a gentleman that he wouldn't force himself on her. He wanted this to become a long term—possibly even permanent—relationship, and though he wanted to fuck, hedidn'twant to fuck it up. The worry was, did she? The pressure was even greater now that Mark would be out of the house and they had a place to come to. Sure, he would gladly get a hotel room—and might yet if it was what she preferred—but that would be less personal than to relax in the comfort of a home.

For Donna, even though they had been out after work a number of times, a real date was different. It was a little more formal, there were greater expectations, and of course, there was the how it would end up. She had a sense that they both wanted the same outcome, the dilemma would be how to get there. George had side-stepped the question when she asked if this date would be difficult for him, and while she had made the inquiry sound general, she had really been referring to a potential sexual interlude. So, without being too direct—that turned some men off, though she didn't think he was that kind—the only idea that occurred to her was since Mark was going to be here at her house, she could suggest that George show her his. Maybe once there nature would take its course.

For Kendall, she had alleviated one of her concerns by making certain her mother was dressed to kill. She laid out a simple short black skirt—a length just a few inches above the knees not slutty just below the ass—a crisp white blouse just sheer enough for the outline of a white lace bra to be seen. She left a couple of buttons undone so George could steal peeks at her mom's round breasts floating in the low cups of the bra. Taking a fashion risk, the teen opted for black bikini panties—instead of white to match her bra and in lieu of a thong—and sheer black stockings. Finally, she selected a conservative two-inch high heel black pump because anything higher made her mother's calves look too muscular. Donna looked so hot her daughter could have fucked her on the spot.

Kendall's other concern was how to dress herself. This was just a casual evening, not a date, so she didn't want to make herself look like she was trying to impress Mark. However, she did want to look good because she prided herself on her appearance. She knew he was going to spend a good deal of the time stealing glances at her, so did she want to feed that habit with alluring attire or deny him by wearing jeans and a baggy top. Normally, after school, she slipped into a velour exercise outfit consisting of shorts and a zip-up short-sleeve top. After studying herself in the mirror, she decided the soft material was comfortable for hanging around and showed off her curves, the shorts showed off her legs, and a tug down on the zipper revealed a little cleavage; all in all, she looked good and there was no reason to change.

The men arrive promptly at 7:00. The looks of awe on both of their faces told Kendall that she had aced her mother's attire. It almost made her wish that she had dressed better to arrest some of that attention. But she quickly reminded herself that this was her mom's evening and was glad she had contributed to its early success. Donna invited the men into the living room to sit and offered drinks, but George declined citing their 7:30 dinner reservation at a very fancy restaurant. As the older couple was departing, George shelled out a few bills to his son so the teens could order pizza.

When they were gone, Mark and Kendall stood regarding one another awkwardly for a minute before she gestured toward the den. He followed enjoying the sway of her shapely ass. He was a little disappointed in her clothes, hoping for the short blue jean skirt, but there was at least enough leg and cleavage to hold his attention. He had to constantly remind himself that this was not a date, so she wouldn't be dressed to kill, but he also had to keep asking himself exactly what the purpose of this evening was beyond what he had been told.

In the den, Kendall plopped down at one end of the sofa, folding one leg on the seat with its heal nearly pressed into her pussy, and the other leg on the floor. "You can sit wherever you like," she offered gesturing to the remainder of the sofa or the easy chair next to it.

Instantly assessing options, Mark noted that the chair would provide better viewing angles of her, but it was also further away. He quickly decided on the sofa, but not on the opposite end and neither right next to her, so he settled down halfway between her and the other arm. "So, how have you been?" he asked.

"Pretty good. You?"

"It's been a fairly dull week at school, nothing much going on."

"Yeah, me too." Okay, this was weird making idle conversation, but she didn't know what else to do.

"You want to order a pizza?"

"In a little while, or are you hungry now?"

"I can wait."

"How about something to drink?"

"Sure that would be nice."

Kendall stood. "We have Pepsi or Diet Pepsi. Sorry, we don't like Coke products."

"No problem. I actually prefer Pepsi."

She eyed him suspiciously. "Do you really, or are you just being polite?"

"No, I really do," Mark answered honestly. "And it frustrates me that so few places sell it." He followed her into the kitchen.

"Yeah, I don't understand why restaurants can't serve both."

"I don't know either."

Kendall still wondered if he was being truthful. Perhaps she needed to test him. "What is your favorite Pepsi place?"

"I guess Taco Bell or Pizza Hut."

He got those right. "There aren't even any hamburger places that sell it."

"Actually, Cheeburger, Cheeburger does," Mark corrected. "But they're not really fast food."

"I've never been there." Apparently, he knew what he was talking about. Maybe this evening wouldn't turn out so bad after all. She reached into the refrigerator, then handed him a Pepsi and got a Diet Pepsi for herself. They returned to the sofa. "Want to watch something or just talk?"

"Either or both."

When she sat this time, Kendall leaned against the arm of the sofa with both legs drawn up toward it and her rear end pointed at Mark. Her pant legs, what little there was to them, pulled up quite a bit revealing a hint of cheek. He hoped she didn't notice his eyes widen. She did, and that prompted her to look at what he was looking at in a way that he could see she saw him looking, and for some reason unknown to her, she did nothing, didn't tug her pant leg down nor say anything to him.

That freaked Mark out as well. He'd been caught, but not reprimanded.

"So, is it true that you haven't dated because you were always staying home to take care of your mother?" Kendall asked, not really knowing where the question came from.

It caught Mark off guard. "Yes," he answered with a shrug.

"That's really nice. I don't know any guys your age that would do that."

He smiled warmly at the memory of his mother. "You had to know her. She gave so much of herself to me and my dad; it just made you want to do anything for her."

"My mom is like that."

"Yeah, she seems real nice. Just hope the same thing never happens to her. No one deserves to die from cancer. Particularly not anyone as kind and giving as my mom." Mark fought back a tear.

Kendall sensed it and apologized.

Mark shrugged it off. "Like we said the other day: we have to move on."

Kendall was beginning to see Mark from a different perspective and she was touched.

"What about you?" he asked to change the subject, "do you date much?"

"Not really." She was hesitant. "I've just seen my mom go through too many—"

"Assholes?" he filled in, recalling her statement from Sunday.

Blushing slightly, Kendall revealed: "Sorry about that. I wasn't on best behavior at that point. I was a bit annoyed that our parents tried to play us instead of just being up front."

"That was probably more for me."

"Still, my mother has always been honest with me."

"So, does that mean you really don't think all guys are assholes?"

"I'mtryingnot to. But so many of the boys at school, you know, they're not interested in relationships; they just want to see how far they can get."

"I know."

"Why? Because you're one?"

"No, that's why I don't have many male friends. I don't like the way they treat girls."

"Wow! Are you for real?" Though she sounded skeptical, she quickly added, "Sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded.

"It's okay."

"So, you're saying you treat girls better?"

"I do."

"How so?"

"When my mom was fighting her illness and I stayed home to take care of her, instead of just lying around convalescing, she insisted on teaching me real life lessons—like how to treat women."

"And yet, you still steal looks at me." It wasn't an accusation, merely an observation as his eyes drifted down to her ass.

"Well, I don't know if you've looked at yourself in the mirror lately, but you and your mom are two very beautiful women. In fact, excluding my mother before she got sick, you and your mom are two of the most beautiful women I have ever seen."

Kendall couldn't help but allow a slight smile to show for the compliment.

"My mom taught me to appreciate beauty," Mark went on. "That included the female body because it is a work of art. So, yes, I look at you. I also appreciate fine art and beautiful scenery. But I also have to ask you if I looked at you in such a way that was offensive or demeaning or derogatory; or was it just subtle and admirable?"

He had her on that one, Kendall realized. She was also starting to realize that she might have misjudged him. "Your looks were subtle and admirable.

"You know," Mark continued, "My mom also taught me that it's not the look, but thewayin which you look, just like it's not so much what you say ashowyou say it."

"Your mother was a very smart woman," Kendall said, genuinely meaning it. She was seeing Mark in a whole new light and it was very becoming. After a few moments of not knowing what else to say or think, she said, "I think I'm ready to order that pizza."

* * *

Staring down at the fork in his hand as he was about to stab a piece of filet, for an instant, George nearly poked himself with the utensil to make sure this evening was real and not a dream. He was sitting across the table from an absolute angel. At this moment, as beautiful and perfect a woman as his wife had been, he would be hard-pressed to pick which was more beautiful. How lucky can one guy be to have had relationships with only two women in his life and both were the most gorgeous creatures on Earth. And to keep it in perspective, it wasn't just their physical beauty, but both were nice, loving and intelligent women. Right here and now, in his mind, he knew he could never let Donna go.

"George?" Donna called softly. "Are you alright? You just stopped in the middle of eating."

"Oh, sorry," he responded somewhat embarrassed. "I . . . I was just reflecting on how lucky I was to find you."

He couldn't see her blush in the soft candlelight. "Why, thank you, sir. I feel equally as lucky."

"And what's even better is that we don't have to hide this from our children any more. We can do whatever we want—as long as we don't neglect them."

"I agree."

"So, now that we have no restrictions," George said nervously, "what would you like to do when we leave here?"

"Did you have something in mind?"

"Well, if you'd like to go kick up your heels, there's a nightclub nearby."

Donna wrinkled her nose. "Too noisy."

"I agree. Then if you want it quieter, there's another nightclub that's more big band music. Or if that's still too loud, there's a nice little piano bar. Or," George had to think, "well, the only place quieter than that would be my house since no one is there."

Donna pretended to think, but hoped her nipples hardening didn't give her away. She tried to make her answer sound casual. "I'd think I'd like to see your house."

The short hairs on the back of George's neck stood up, but it was the answer he was hoping for. He'd made certain, to Mark's amusement, that everything was spotless and even had a couple of bottles of white wine chilling in the fridge. "Then my house it is."

* * *

The pizza had come and gone, and all the while, they had been watching a movie, coincidently about a teen couple. They hadn't talked much since Mark had complimented Kendall on her beauty and he wondered if he had said something in that conversation that had pissed her off. Difficult though it was, he had even done his best to avoid stealing looks to see what was revealed every time she changed positions. Little did he know, what he had said had had the opposite effect and she was pondering the new and strange feelings she was suddenly having about Mark. He was actually turning into the ideal boy.

So, for obvious reasons, neither had been paying very close attention to the movie until, as luck would have it, there was a scene not unlike what was happening between Mark and Kendall, except that on screen the couple was decidedly moving toward something sexual. The kiss entered into between the boy and girl in the film was about as passionate as anything the teens watching had ever seen.

Mark's cock pressed uncomfortably against his jeans with no place to grow, and a sidelong glance at Kendall showed her nipples straining against her clothes. Unfortunately, the scene did not escalate into something hotter because the storyline had the couple interrupted and then it cut to something totally different.

"Wow, what a kiss," Kendall mentioned.

"Itwashot," Mark agreed.

"What?" she asked.

"I said itwashot."

Suddenly, embarrassingly, Kendall realized that she had spoken what she was thinking aloud. Now, she didn't know what to say.

Observing the perplexed look on her face, Mark asked, "You okay?"

"Uh, yeah." Then she giggled uncontrollably.

"Am I missing something?" He quickly glanced at the TV, but nothing funny was happening.

"When I said . . . what I said, I didn't . . . realize—"

"You had said it out loud?" he finished for her.

"Yeah."

"Why would it bother you to have said that?"

"I don't know, it's . . . I don't know."

"Too personal?"

"No. It was just unreal."

"What do you mean? You don't think anybody really kisses like that, or that well?"

"Well,Idon't know anyone who does."

Mark raised his eyebrows and nodded his head as if to say, well, everyone's entitled to their opinion.

She turned to face him, and the zipper on her top was far enough down that he was treated to an eyeful of cleavage. "Okay, and you're going to tell me you know somebody who kisses like that."

"Well . . . yeah," he answered innocently.

Kendall eyed him suspiciously, ignoring his eyes on her tits. "I know you're not going to tell me it's you."

As humbly as he could, Mark responded, "Well, I can."

Beginning to regret the compassion she had started feeling for him, she said facetiously, "And next you're going to tell me your mother taught you." But as soon as she said it, the look on his face told her it was true. "You kissed your mother?"

Suddenly, Mark regretted that Kendall had figured it out. He further regretted that he had allowed her to back him into a position where he felt he had to one-up her. His mother had made him swear on her soul he would never reveal it to anyone. Society would consider it incest and frown on him. "You shouldn't know that," he said sorrowfully. "I promised her I would never tell."

"So, when she was teaching you how to treat women, she was also teaching you how to kiss?" Kendall asked excitedly.

"Kendall, please," he begged.

"Did she teach you anything else?" Kendall persisted. "I mean, like sexual things?" A sudden revelation occurred to her. As much as she loved having sex with her mother, she was realizing that it might be less about the girl-girl part and more about the incestuous part. Her compassion for him also returned.

"You're not going to let go of this are you?"

"Just a couple more questions. I promise. And then maybe I'll tell you something to even the score."

Mark let out an exasperated sigh. "What?"

"Did she teach you anything else sexual?"

"Not really. There wasn't time before she really started to get sick."

"Would you have had sex with her if she hadn't got sick? I mean, would that have been part of her lesson. Would she havefuckedyou?"

Mark could see by the look in her eyes that this was an erotic subject for her, and it made him wonder how it related to her even-the-score news. And even though he was also aroused by the discussion, answering her questions was not easy on a number of levels. "Please don't ask me that," he pleaded.

The answer was erotically obvious to Kendall otherwise he would have denied it right away. But somehow, she knew that for him to verbally admit it would be the most titillating thing she would hear. She could feel her pussy oozing, and she knew there was only one way to push him over the edge, so without further consideration, she blurted, "I've had sex with my mother."

"What?" He couldn't believe his ears.

"So, tell me," she persisted, wild-eyed.

"Yes, I would have," Mark confessed, his resolve having fled.

She could see that he was upset and knew that she was the cause of it, so she slid closer to him where he could have a bird's eye view down her top and dutifully apologized. "I had to know."

"Why did it give you an incestuous arousal?" There was bitterness in his voice.

Kendall ignored it. "Yes, it did. But it also taught me something about myself."