Nothing You Haven't Seen Before...

"What can I say?" A man can't talk his way out of a hard-on. Best just to own it. "I really, really, really like coffee. It gets me excited."

She giggled and rolled her eyes. "I think it's more likely to be my tits, Keith."

"I think this is the kind of thing we shouldn't be talking about, Ms Schott," I replied quietly. The coffee really was good. "Delicious."

"Thank you." We leaned together, sharing the moment, reflecting. "And you're right. We shouldn't be talking about it."

"Agreed."

"But you better take care of that before Daisy wakes up," she went on, winking. She'd always winked a lot. She glanced down. "I'm sure she's seen you like that a lot, but once she figures out we're the only two awake?" Her lips curled devilishly. "You'd have some explaining to do. And we just agreed that we didn't need to tell her about us."

"Yeah." It really was good coffee. She had an expensive Italian machine in the corner by the microwave, probably a cast-off from the last time they'd upgraded Ahab's, but damn if the simple French press hadn't nailed it. I looked away, mostly to avoid having to think about what she was saying, but also to stop looking at her chest. "I guess I'll, uh, just go hang out in the bathroom."

"Take a shower," she suggested, draining her mug. "Use some shampoo. It'll feel as good as a pussy."

"Jesus!"

"Sorry." She wasn't, though, and I wasn't really either. She winked as she passed out of the kitchen. "Or? Go wake up Daisy and have her suck it." I stared, shaking my head. "I'm joking. Just leave the cup in the sink. Daisy can wash it later. While you're in the shower." She paused at the door, looking back, her ass still facing me. Striking a pose. "It's nice to have you around, Keith."

"Yeah. It's nice to be around," I sighed, no longer making any effort to hide my erection. She knew, anyway.

I should have broken up with Daisy last night. In the restaurant. As soon as I figured out who her mom was. But of course, that would have been impossible; still was, in fact. I was stuck.

But at least there was shampoo in the shower.

* * *

I was annotating a Fekete elegy that afternoon, lounging in the living room while Daisy took a nap with her head on my lap. It was the legendary Third Excerpt from his "Cycle of Sorrows," and what little scholarship there was on it was divided (as always, with old Zhondar) about whether it respected Byzantine forms or satirized them. I wasn't sure, but I was certain there would be six or even seven people on the planet who'd care about my conclusions on the subject.

Fuck the Renaissance Scholarship Symposium. Why had I agreed to do this? I wasn't even sure I was getting paid for it, though I doubted it.

I laid my book aside and stroked Daisy's hair absently. It was a lovely, quiet afternoon, with a nice breeze skating through the open window. Daisy's mom had gone out to her yoga, and I began to think my girlfriend had the right idea: a nap might be just the right way to pass an hour or so...

The sound of a car door from outside roused me out of one of those light dozes, the kind where your leg kicks out. Daisy remained fast asleep, her drool gluing her face to my thigh, and I was still blinking in confusion when Evie let herself in. "Hi, guys," she began, but then her mouth clamped shut when she noticed Daisy was asleep. "Fuck. Sorry. Did I wake her?" she went on in a stagey whisper.

"Um. No," I said quietly. Fuck, the woman was a knockout: all lycra and skin, she stood there by the doorway in a pink sportsbra and some grey tights that left nothing at all to the imagination. "How was yoga?" She leaned over us in a wash of odors that dragged me right back to those seedy motel rooms where she'd fucked me: her sweat, her hair, and whatever deodorant she used. But mostly her sweat. I turned my head to follow her as she bent over, unsure whether to stare for cleavage or cameltoe.

I opted for cameltoe. I mean, it was right there, a shadowed ripple between her thighs, a memory of swollen labia and her addictive tang. I let out a gently sighing breath. And if she noticed, she didn't seem to care.

"Yoga always feels good," she murmured, examining Daisy. "She's drooling on you."

"Yeah, no shit." I was still stroking her hair. Evie glanced at me.

"You were about to fall asleep, weren't you?" she smiled. She straightened, tugging her tights up; I almost groaned at what it did to her mound.

"I think so." I made my eyes rise, finally, to her face. She was watching me closely.

"Don't let me stop you, Keith. You just go right ahead and relax." She stood over me, mouth curled in that challenging way of hers. "I'm going to go shower." She wasn't even half-turned as she peeled her sportsbra slowly off over her head, showing me more memories: her big, bold tits, resting luscious on her chest, crowned with those wine-colored nipples I'd sucked so often. I only got the briefest glimpse before she continued her turn, but then she paused with her arm pulling her hair out of its messy ponytail. And I saw nothing but sideboob.

Until I glanced guiltily, almost frantically down to make sure Daisy was still asleep. "What the fuck are you doing?" I hissed.

"Calm down," Evie shrugged, finally turning her back to me. "It's nothing you haven't seen before." Her gaze followed mine. "And she's asleep. Don't worry." She sauntered off, spinning her bra on her finger, her ass moving smoothly within those grey tights. There was no way she was wearing anything underneath there, and I just watched speechless as she disappeared into the hallway leading back to the master suite.

Holy shit.

Daisy picked that moment to stir beneath me, her expression confused as she dragged her head off my lap. "Fuck, Keithie," she whined, scowling. "You woke me up!"

"Huh?" I blinked down at where she was glaring reproachfully at my crotch.

"Your hard-on," she complained. "It nudged me." She glared up. "Why are you so bad at controlling that thing?"

"Uh, well, shit," I managed, trying hard to banish the image of her mom's boobs, "I mean, you're lying right there breathing on my fly. You're just so fucking hot..."

"Shut up!" she squealed, listening through the house. "Is my mom here? We can't be doing anything if we're not sure she's completely out of the house..."

"I think she came back," I admitted, yawning for effect. "I was dozing off, but I thought I heard the door close." I finally adjusted myself, giving some fleeting relief. "You could just, you know, blow me real fast..."

"No! You have to pull yourself together," she declared firmly, with a meaningful glance at the tent in my shorts. "If you have to, then go to the bathroom and tug one out, but I am not going to run the risk of my mother coming in to see her daughter sucking your penis!" She cocked her head, listening. "I think I hear her shower going."

"See?" I was gun-barrel stiff, my dick trembling. "She's busy. Trust me. It wouldn't take long." My hands went to my waistband, but she sat up abruptly.

"Bathroom, Keithie. Now." She cupped my balls rudely. "I'm telling you. If this keeps up, literally, I'll be totally humiliated in front of her. And you can forget coming back for Thanksgiving."

"Grr."

"Come on." She removed her hand, leaving me staring up at her as she sat over me. Tempting. Just like her mother had. "Up. Scamper off into the guest bathroom and shoot your dirty little load into the sink. Make sure you wipe up your mess." She stretched her arms high in a full-body yawn, her shirt riding up to show her sexy stomach. I twitched. "Go."

I didn't use the shampoo this time. It didn't take me nearly that long.

* * *

I didn't get Evie alone until after dinner, when I offered to do the dishes (because my mom raised me right) and she sauntered in to put the water on for more coffee. The woman was addicted. I glared over from the sink. "What was that, earlier?"

"Earlier?" She shrugged. "That was dinner, Keith. Baked chicken with rice and peppers," she chuckled, "or did you mean something else?"

"I meant your boobs," I muttered, but despite myself I smiled.

"My boobs." Her smirk grew as she began toying with her hair. She'd put on shorts and a simple red blouse after her shower. "What about them?"

"You showed them to me." I flicked my eyes to her chest. "They looked nice."

"So happy to hear you think so," she winked.

"They made me hard," I gulped, my smile growing. Shit. What was it about this woman? "As I think you know."

"Of course I know." She shrugged again. "I like teasing you."

"Yeah?" I was scrubbing at a pan and tenting my shorts. Again.

"I don't mean anything by it," she added. "Just... maybe you should have called me a couple years ago. You know?"

"I'm starting to realize that."

"Good." She hiked herself up on the counter, making a show of peering around. "I don't think you mind my teasing."

"I'm dating Daisy," I swallowed, clinking a plate into the rack. "It's serious."

"I'm glad." She nodded with no trace of irony. "I love her more than life itself, and I know you're a fantastic young man. You guys are a great couple."

I raised my eyebrows. "Well, then?"

"Well what?" She swung her legs. "Something on your mind?"

I laid the sponge down and turned to face her. "What do you want out of me?"

"Nothing at all," she replied firmly. "Not a damn thing. I want you to treat my daughter like gold." She watched me closely, scooping her coffee. "Like you treated me. In bed."

"Fuck." I couldn't stop myself.

"Ravaging her," she went on quietly, almost chanting, "fucking her to within an inch of her life. But always being respectful." Her smirk turned a bit wistful as she hopped back down to the floor. "You're a great guy, Keith. Your cock is a bonus."

I flushed. "Thanks?"

"No. Really." She poured the water carefully into the press, her fingers competent. "I'm glad she's dating you."

"Because you like teasing me?" I knew the mature thing to do was to put a stop to this, to tell her I was going back into the living room to sit with Daisy while I read my Cycle of Sorrow. Everything in me told me that was the right way to play this. But she was standing there, right next to me, and this was just flirting.

Right?

"I love teasing you." She tossed her hair back. "Almost as much as you love being teased." She cocked her head to one side, studying me. "Mind if I ask you something?"

"Anything." I was doing the last of the glasses.

"It's probably a little twisted to ask about it," she confessed, "but I can't help it. Do you ever, like, compare us?"

"Us?" I frowned. "You and me?"

"No. Daisy and me."

I froze. But my mind didn't.

"You're thinking about it right now." She nodded confidently. "You're thinking about what it's like when you two fuck, and then you're remembering that month with me." She hooked a finger into the neckline of her blouse. "You ever had a mother-daughter combo before?"

"No." I licked my lips. "I'm not into threesomes."

She laughed softly. Knowingly. "That's not what I mean, Keith." She undid a button, her cleavage suddenly a huge, yawning valley right in front of me. "You never have, have you? Same family, two different generations? I bet you can't help but stack her up against me in your mind. Right now." She wedged her finger into that valley, pulling the blouse down. Taunting me. "You're doing it. Thinking about it. Do you talk as dirty to her as you used to talk to me?"

"You're bad." I was struggling to get the words out. I wanted to turn her around, push her down over the counter, and fuck her hard. "I can't believe we're doing this. In your kitchen."

"Doing what, Keith?" She was whispering now. "What are we doing?"

My mouth dropped open. I couldn't say it. I could not say it. But it was the only answer possible. "Foreplay," I murmured.

"Oh my god!" Her face lit up, eyes and mouth wide and joyful. "Now who's teasing whom?" She removed her finger and buttoned back up, her eyes dropping to my crotch. "You're hard again."

"I know," I grated. I glanced toward the living room and lowered my voice. "I'd show you, but that'd be wrong on about fourteen different levels."

"More like twenty." She smiled, pushing down on the French press. "You'd show me. You'd show me a whole bunch of different things, hmm?" We smiled at each other. "Well. I can certainly say my mind is racing now," she mused, turning to me as she poured. "I'm going to go watch TV in my room. You go hang out with Daisy." She paused. "And... No. I won't say it," she shook her head, turning to go, and I couldn't stop myself from laying a soapy hand on her wrist.

"Say what?"

She looked down at my hand, then nodded and winked slowly at me. "You don't have to tell me," she whispered, stepping away from me, "I know I'm better than her." She put extra sway into her hips as she left, the witch.

I swallowed hard.

* * *

We cuddled on the couch late that night, the TV mindless in the background, the smell of Daisy's hair in my nostrils. We'd turned off all the lights, and Daisy's fingers walked closer and closer to my balls as the evening wore on. "I love you," she sighed. She was reading a novel on her tablet, the bright glare casting the rest of the house into shadow for her.

"I love you too."

"Goodnight, you two," came Evie's voice from the top of the steps leading from the dining room. She leaned there in a bathrobe, her glasses glittering in the light from the TV. "Don't do anything you shouldn't do, kids."

"We won't, mom!" Daisy smiled at her, then returned to her novel. The TV droned on, completely unheeded, and I looked over Daisy's turned head to where her mom stood ghostly in the doorway. I could hardly make out her shape in the dark, surprised to see that she was still just standing there with her glasses flashing.

She waited, making sure Daisy was engrossed in her book, and then her hand crept slowly up to her neck, her finger dim in her cleavage as she fingered the edge of her robe. My throat went dry as she whisked the robe aside, pulling out her glorious right tit. For a moment she left it out, kneading it with her fingers, then hefting it to meet her shining tongue. I started on the couch, staring into the darkness, but then Evie was gone as quickly and suddenly as she'd appeared.

My cock was a stone pillar when Daisy's hand at last reached it; I caught an inquisitive glance from her, a glance that slid over toward her mother's doorway as her fingers decided what to do. "Go for it," I whispered, my penis pulsing in her hand, and for once?

She did it. It took about ten strokes, no more.

So I had to change my clothes before bed, but I dropped into a sounder sleep than I had the night before.

* * *

I was up early the next day, meaning after the sun but before Daisy. My first thought was about her handjob last night, but my second one was about her mom's boob. I poked my head into Daisy's room before heading to the kitchen, feeling a naughty and unexpected thrill when I found her fast asleep. So then I stole into the kitchen, sniffing for the aroma of coffee but finding... nothing.

No Evie. No bathrobe. No tease.

Her French press stood in the sink with wet grounds packed into the bottom, and it was lukewarm to the touch; I shrugged, adjusted my boxers, straightened the t-shirt I'd slept in, and washed out the press. Then, yawning, I walked through the silent house.

I have no idea what I was expecting. I was not thinking I'd fuck Evie, not at all; I was intrigued by her, though, and she was intrigued by me, and I suddenly just wanted to be with her. To chat. And... flirt?

What had I called it? Foreplay?

But she was nowhere, and as I roved through the house I soon realized that the door to the master suite was the only one closed. I frowned, peering through to the deck in the backyard, trying to put off knocking on her bedroom door. That had to be a bridge too far, a step over the line.

Or? The woman had flashed me twice yesterday. She knew I'd be up. She wanted me to knock.

It was past seven when I checked on Daisy again. She looked dead, and I'd seen her sleep past nine very often on other Sundays. I looked down at her, sleeping so soundly.

Evie wanted me to knock on her bedroom door. I knew it. But it was a step I knew there was no way I should take... until my cock lurched. The woman had flashed me twice. I wheeled around down the hallway toward Evie's room.

But I shut Daisy's bedroom door first.

I debated about whether to put some sweats on over my boxers, but was there any point to that? This woman had once run her tongue over just about every inch of me. In a few ways, she knew my nude body even better than Daisy did. Fuck, I marveled to myself; what a month that had been! And that's why I was already half-hard as, knowing it was a terrible idea, I knocked quietly on Evie Schott's bedroom door.

"Come on in," sang the voice from within, high-pitched and laced with more than a trace of amusement. I took a deep breath, adjusted my penis, and opened her door.

I had no clue what I was expecting: her doing yoga in front of her TV, maybe? Her dripping, fresh from the shower and clad in nothing but a towel? Her, posing before the mirror in black lace lingerie? Her, naked, sprawled across her bed? I passed into a big, airy room with yellow walls and a big, unmade bed, my eyes fluttering back and forth with my lips touched by that stupid plastic smile I sometimes spawned when I wasn't quite sure how I should act. And I was still peering around when I heard her laugh from the near corner.

"Jesus. Took you long enough to come in here." I spun slowly, reminding myself to stay cool, to find Evie sitting at a little desk in the corner by the sliding doors, fidgeting pensively with a laptop. Her coffee mug was half full. She didn't look up. "What?"

I thought quickly. Foreplay, I'd said daringly, and I'd been damn right. That's what this all felt like. "There's no one to make me coffee, Ms Schott," I shrugged.

"That's a lie," she sighed, tapping a pen against her teeth as she leaned up close to the screen. She was wearing a long t-shirt that fell to her chair, draping high across her thighs. I had to figure she was wearing panties, but with this woman, you never really knew. "Go wake up my kid. Have her make some."

I spread my hands, the picture of parodied helplessness. I could feel my penis growing as I stared at her tanned thigh, so sturdy, the flesh there lightly freckled. Minimal cellulite. I remembered the feel of those thighs in my grasping fingers from a couple years ago. "You're a professional barrista, though. And, as my hostess for the weekend, I was hoping I could bother you to do it."

"Huh." She examined something on the screen, then her pen scratched at a post-it. "I mean, I do make fucking great coffee."

"You really do."

She sighed and put her pen down, then leaned back in her chair and rolled her head sideways to look at me. "And in return? What do I get for making you such amazing coffee?"

I smiled, surer of my footing now. I'd known she wanted me in here, and now there was no more tension. Just foreplay. "You get the satisfaction of knowing you've been an amazing hostess to the man who's courting your beloved daughter."

"I'd say I've already been an amazing hostess, Keith," she cooed. "Wouldn't you?"

"It's a new day. A new opportunity."

She snorted. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" She ran a hand through her hair, sending it cascading down the back of her chair, arching her body slightly. She knew how sexy she was, and that in itself was the sexiest thing about her.

"'This new day is too dear,'" I shrugged, "'with its hopes and invitations, to waste a moment on the yesterdays.' So, yeah." I raised an eyebrow. "New opportunity."