Professional Excellence Ch. 09

'No, no. Tea would be nice.'

'Alright then. I'll make it. Why don't you go through. We can be more comfortable.'

'Thanks, mum.'

He got up and hugged me again. This time it was a lot more chaste, both of us bending from the waist and keeping our arms at shoulder height. It was nice nonetheless, somehow even more intimate. He picked up the bag he used for college stuff and let out a long sigh as he left me to the catering.

The British have a strange relationship with tea. We can knock up a couple of mugs of a brown, bitter brew - undrinkable in any other part of the civilised world - in less than a minute. Or alternatively, take half-an-hour preparing special crockery, pots, jugs and what have you. I went for the middle ground, slapping a few bags into an old pot, and putting the milk bottle on a tray along with a couple of slices of home-baked cake. My mind was running through the possibilities for our up-coming conversation and I was stumped. If it was money, surely he'd have spoken to his father. I couldn't think of anything sexual he'd need my advice on. Could he have asked Alice to marry him and was now getting cold feet? I doubted it. It was with trepidation I picked up the tray and went through.

Nigel smiled at me with one of those wan, nervous grins you find yourself using at a job interview when you're trying to impress the panel. We both faked concentration on getting the drinks prepared, plates, spoons and cups properly positioned, clearly avoiding speaking. Eventually we both ran out of things to do with our hands, though there still seemed to be something inordinately interesting in Nigel's cup. I broke the silence.

'You've done something stupid.'

I kept my voice matter-of-fact and non-judgemental, not difficult as, so far, I'd been given nothing to judge. Nigel wriggled and coughed as he prepared to speak.

'You know the Crown and Anchor?'

'Mmmm.'

It was already getting harder to maintain neutrality.

'Well I've been going in there. Quite a lot in fact.'

'OK. It always had the reputation of being the sort of place thatnice girls never went in when I was young. Judging by the adverts for strippers plastered all over it, I imagine it hasn't changed.'

'I'll admit that's why I went there the first time. But it's a lot nicer than you'd think. I've made a lot of friends there. Different from the ones I've made at school and college.'

I smiled, I hoped encouragingly, but I had to say I was fighting hard to get out of my mind the memory of the poster-sized image of my friend Susan which I'd seen hanging over the bar when I went in there. I nodded for him to continue.

'Well.'

Here it comes, I thought, though I still had no inkling whatit might be.

'They're having a reopening event.'

'I think I might have seen something about that in the local rag.'

'My friend Scarlett designed the supplement, she's managing the event. It looks great doesn't it?'

'Uh huh.'

Now he mentioned it, it had been the design which caught my eye. Normally I would have just tossed an advertising extra, but I had flicked through it and had a rough idea what he was talking about. I still couldn't get what the something stupid might be though.

'It's all for charity. The local women's refuge. There's a football tournament - Alice's playing.'

'You took Alice there?'

I couldn't keep the surprise out of my voice.

'The Crown's goalie's a women. I know her a bit. Alice didn't believe me when I told her so we went down to watch one of their matches.'

'I see.'

I was back in neutral, though the way Nigel blushed when he mentioned my friend Susan made me think there might be more to their relationship than either of them had told me.

'Are we maybe getting off track a little?'

'Um, yes. Sorry.'

He cleared his throat again.

'There's a lot of different things going on.'

'Mostly strippers if my glance at your friend's supplement was right.'

'Well yes, but there's a pensioner's thing as well and a Ladies Night. It was that I wanted to talk to you about.'

'A Ladies Night. You meanmale strippers? Hmm. I've never been to one of those, but I wouldn't mind giving it a try. Thestupid thing isn't getting me a ticket, is it?'

I must have come across too enthusiastic. Nigel sounded exasperated.

'No, mum. And before you ask, they've sold out.'

'Pity.'

'Will you just listen? I volunteered.'

That shut me up. For at least ten seconds.

'You volunteered? To be what? A male stripper?'

I looked at him. My surprise must have shown. He had folded his hands on his knees and was just looking down at them while he nodded. He looked like a little boy again which made me come over all maternal. I scooted across to him, put an arm round his shoulders and rested my other hand on his.. We sat like that for a moment.

'I'm really proud of you. I don't think you're stupid at all. So, OK, the Crown and Anchor might not have the best of reputations, but domestic violence is a really important issue. And this government's doing all it can to close the refuges down.'

I squeezed him tighter, but it didn't seem to be doing anything to reassure him. Suddenly, it struck me what the problem might be.

'Have you told Alice?'

'Of course. She's all for it. She bought four tickets. Her mum's coming.'

Cross that explanation off the list then. He still didn't seem any happier.

'I really admire you two. You're both so, I don't know, open and experimental.'

I was getting nothing back. He was just glum and I couldn't work out why. I ruffled his hair and hugged his shoulder again.

'Come on Scooter. What's up?'

I used the family nickname from when he was little.

'Are you worried about the dancing? Have you inherited your dad's two left feet?'

'No. In fact the show is going well. Scarlett's a good choreographer. We're pretty good, even if I do say so myself.'

'So what is it? There's clearly something worrying you. You said you wanted to talk.'

'I was completely OK with it until today. Scarlett was pleased. The whole idea turns Alice on something rotten she's been... Let's say, more than supportive.'

We both laughed. There was no denying that. I was thinking of asking for ear plugs as a birthday present.

'So what happened today?'

'Scarlett gave us our outfits. She wanted us to wear them at home to get used to them.'

'You've got it here?'

He reached into his bag and pulled out a small carrier. I snatched it from his without thinking. I remembered my manners and looked for his permission to look inside. He nodded sheepishly. I stuck in a hand like a kid at the Lucky Dip stall. First out was a pair of cuffs and a collar and bow tie all clipped together with a small plastic peg. I held them up against my own bare arm and neck. I made appreciative noises and laid them carefully on the coffee table before sticking my hand in again.

'What have we here?'

I was trying to set a light-hearted tone.

I pulled out a very small pair of shorts. They were tiny and made of some kind of satin material, but there must have been quite a bit of Lycra in them. I stretched the waist band and looked at Nigel over the top of them. He smiled back at me when I winked.

'And last but not least.'

I scrabble around in the bag until my fingers found a flimsy piece of fabric. I removed it between my finger and thumb. It was a thong made of the same material as the shorts.

'Wow. this doesn't leave much to the imagination, does it?'

I pulled it over my head like a pirate eye patch and waved an imaginary sword. Nigel reached across and took it from me making stop-pissing-about noises. He straightened it across his knee like a fussy old maid before looking up at me again.

'So go on then.'

'Go on what?'

'Do what Scarlett told you.'

'You mean here? Now?'

'No time like the present. Come on, give your sexy-MILF mother a treat. You know you want to.'

He laughed indulgently at my pouty face. He looked around him as if to check there was no one else in the room before shrugging and standing up. I gave a little hoot of encouragement and settled back in the cushions to enjoy the show.

'Mum?'

'What?'

He sounded irritated.

'I'm not getting naked with you staring at me like that.'

'Spoilsport.'

I put my hands over my eyes and then cheekily fanned out my fingers to keep peeking. Admittedly I was pretending to keep the joke going, but there was a part of me which really wanted to see what was coming next.

'Turn round.'

I did as I was told. My ears were on high alert though, and I waited a few seconds until after I'd heard the clatter of his belt as it hit the carpet before taking a swift glance round. I got a view of a beautiful pair of buttocks flexing and shaping as he adjusted his cock and balls in side the tiny thong. I quickly turned back as he looked about to reach for the shorts.

It was a frustrating wait for him to announce he was ready. In the end he allowed me to turn because he needed assistance fastening the collar/bow tie. It was only a simple stud, the work of a moment. I grinned to myself at the memory of the countless frustrating hours I must have totalled in the backs of various cars waiting for my bra to be unhooked and my nipples properly massaged.

'I'm speechless.'

'Obviously not.'

'No honestly, I don't know what to say. You look good enough to eat as my old gran used to say.'

'Stop it, mum.'

'Why?'

He was standing close to me after I spun him round by the shoulders. If you'd asked me before this to describe my son's body, I'd have said 'average'.

'You been working out in the gym?'

'Maybe.'

'I'm pretty positive you didn't have those shoulders when we were on holiday in Greece last year.'

'Gerroff.'

He flinched and giggled when I ran my hands across the top of his shoulders and down over his chest until I was pressing his nipples with my palms. He claimed I was tickling him, a charge I vehemently denied.

'Have you been shaving your chest?'

'Scarlett said we had to.'

'Nice.'

He dodged back as I went to stroke him again.

'You been shaving anywhere else?'

I ran my eyes pointedly down his body stopping between his six-pack - again, who knew that was hiding underneath his shirt - and the nicely shaped bulge glistening beneath the satin.

'Maybe. By the way, my eyes are up here.'

'Oops, busted again.'

I put my fingers to my mouth and widened my eyes in mock innocence. He wasn't buying it. I got the briefest of smiles. It was disconcerting. He seemed quite comfortable standing virtually naked in front of me, yet there was clearly something still troubling him. I sat down again and patted the cushion next to me. I was hypnotised by the way the material of his short stretched as the muscles in his thighs and buttocks worked to execute the simple task of sitting. I had to clear my own throat to make sure my voice didn't wobble when I spoke. I could already feel myself going red.

'Do those come off too. You know, when you perform?'

'They do.'

His voice was quieter now.

'Wow. Can I see?'

'Mum.'

He was indignant.

'Sorry, sorry. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just that you're obviously at ease wearing virtually nothing.'

'Scarlett's drilled us well.'

'I'd like to meet her.'

'Maybe one day.'

'Let's make it soon. So she's seen you, on stage, naked, and waggling your cock around like it was a normal everyday activity?'

'Language.'

'You sound just like your brother now. I think the fact you've taken up stripping moves us a little bit beyond sayingwinkle andwilly, don't you?'

'I suppose. But can we perhaps stick topenis?'

'Agreed.'

He sounded resigned - more glum even. I was still no nearer getting to the heart of the problem. Or finding it any easier to stop my eyes gravitating to hispenis every five minutes. I was beginning to get an insight into men's fascination with my boobs.

'So to recap, you've agreed to strip for charity, you're comfortable wearing the sexiest briefs and budgie hammock I've ever seen, you're blasé about whipping them off and parading in the nip in front of a strange woman...'

'Not just one. There's Alice as well, Tracey, a couple of their friends, and Mandy, the landlord's wife, never misses a rehearsal.'

'So let's just round it up to half the female population of the town, shall we? I'll overlook for a minute that your Top-MILF mother is somehow blacklisted arbitrarily. I'm still not getting what the problem is. But clearly something's upsetting you. Go open a bottle of red, will you? And bring two glasses.'

It was clear to me that tea wasn't cutting it and we needed an upgrade. I glanced at the clock. I picked up my phone and called Howard.

'Monique. I was just thinking about you.'

I'd brought the wrong phone downstairs. Time to improvise.

'Naughty boy. I'm actually calling on Monica's behalf.'

'Is anything wrong?'

'No, no. It's just that she and Nigel are in the middle of a somewhat difficult conversation and she wondered whether you might eat out this evening to give them a little space.'

'He's OK, isn't he? Perhaps I should come home?'

'Don't do that. He said he wanted to talk to her about something, but seems to be having a little trouble saying exactly what.'

'Like father, like son, eh?'

I hadn't thought of it like that, but made a mental note to bear it in mind for part two of our conversation.

'That's fine. Tell her I was going to ask for a late pass anyway. David, and a couple of the chaps are getting together to finalise plans for our trip. I thought I might join them.'

'I'm sure that'll be fine. Give David our love.'

'I will. Gotta run. Tell Nigel to keep his pecker up from me will you?'

'Certainement and Howard.'

'Yes?'

'If by any chance, David and you have slightly too much to drink.'

'Mmmm.'

'Don't hesitate to invite him back. I'm always willing to give my two special boys an extra good time. Au revoir.'

I hung up. Always leave 'em wanting more. I went through to the kitchen and announced breezily that his father had called and wouldn't be back until much later. He just mumbled a reply as he arm wrestled with the corkscrew he had somehow jammed into one of our most expensive bottles of wine. I tried not to wince too much as he slopped large dollops into two whiskey tumblers and spilled about five quid's worth onto the granite as he did so. I clinked glasses with him and went to the fridge.

By the time I returned with some salad, cheeses and bread, he'd drained his glass and was looking at mine impatiently. I took a large mouthful desperately trying to give the exquisite, smooth, velvety liquid the respect it deserved and was not getting. I took the bottle and refilled his glass.

The meal was pleasant. We laughed a lot, mainly at his brother's expense. Nigel almost choked when I told him about the time Trevor had adamantly refused to leave the house in a pair of cargo shorts for fear of offending the neighbours with his display of masculine calf. I chose the second bottle. It was about fifty pounds cheaper than the first but went down Nigel's throat just as easily. I caught myself inwardly contemplating the incongruity of my sitting there in sensible slacks, silk blouse and cashmere sweater while he seemed increasingly comfortable with his state of undress. I made a point of commenting on his shorts a number of times and about half-way down bottle two he allowed me to run my fingers over the material. I left my hand on his bare thigh and even got to squeeze it occasionally as he ran through self-deprecating anecdotes about their rehearsals and repeated the various lewd comments their fans were so fond of using.

'Sounds like you're having a whale of a time. I can just imagine you all parading around in your new silkies while Scarlett barked out her orders.'

'We did. We did. Until...'

He sounded wistful and suddenly serious. I pushed my plate away and got down from my stool.

'Hold that thought. I think we need a brandy, don't you?'

He agreed and started to get down himself. he was looking a little flushed from the wine. It was easy to push him back down.

'You know what? I think I'm going to get into something more appropriate to the evening. I'm definitely overdressed, don't you think?'

I pulled the sweater over my head.

'You saiduntil. Fold this for me will you?'

I passed him the jumper and held his eye demanding a response as I wafted cool air into my blouse by flapping the hem below the collar.

'She showed us a video of what goes on at these ladies' nights. You ever seen one?'

'No. But we can watch together while we enjoy a snifter. promise you won't laugh.'

'Laugh? Why?'

I'd kicked off my loafers, unbuttoned the waist of my trousers and undone the zipper without him noticing.

'I'm wearing my granny knickers. I wasn't expecting to have to show them to anyone. You're grinning.'

'Maybe I'll get the video set up on my computer while you go upstairs to change. Don't you think?'

'No need. Don't let these crease, fold them properly.'

I had let the slacks fall to the floor and nodded for him to retrieve them after I stepped out of them. As he was bending down I lowered my pants and draped them over his shoulder. He pulled them off just using his finger and thumb.

'You can keep those if you want. I noticed you admiring my underwear earlier.'

He glanced up to make his riposte. His face was only a few inches from my pussy.

'You're shaved.'

'Damn. I meant to tempt you to a game of I'll-show-you-mine-if-you-show-me-yours. Maybe next time. Not completely though, look.'

I ran a finger up and down the thin strip of pubic hair which I had left unshaven.

'God mum.'

'Slacks, dear, creases.'

While he was hurrying to deal with them, I unbuttoned the blouse at the cuffs and front and was shrugging it off my shoulders by the time he looked at me again. He was obviously trying to stop me without sounding sounding too much like his brother. All that came out were splutters.

'You've got to be extra gentle with silk. It's a devil to clean and so easy to scorch with an iron.'

I draped it over his arm and nodded for him to start folding. He'd only managed to straighten it by holding the thin material at the shoulders and shaking it when I tossed my bra onto the counter.

"I don't remember if you've got a bra fetish too, or whether it's just panties. Hey, I've an idea.'

'Mum, you're completely naked.'

'Why don't you auction it off to the little pervs who voted for me. All proceeds to the refuge fund, of course.'

'You haven't got anything on.'

'That happens when you change your clothes. I hope you're still changing your pants daily. I can't check now you're doing your own washing. Now where's that suspender belt you were admiring earlier?'

I walked over to the radiator and picked it up. Nigel was making inarticulate noises of resignation. Or maybe it was relief that at last I was putting clothes on. My non-sequitur strip show had, I hoped, served its purpose and got him into a state where all subjects would be put on the table for discussion. I clipped on the belt and selected the stockings I'd caught him fondling. Putting them on necessitated me sitting down opposite him. I smiled as I placed my foot on his thigh while I bunched up the nylon.

'If you ever need a job as a wardrobe assistant, I'd be happy to give you an interview.'

I let my big toe brush his dick as I flexed my foot on the pretext of getting the seam straight. I heard his intake of breath whistle between his teeth. Maybe we both wanted to explore this thing between us further.

'I prefer a more enthusiastic wolf whistle, but I guess that'll have to do. Now where's that dress you and your father like so much?'