Rehearsal with Mom

Shawn is 20

Mom is 47

When I got the part, I was so excited. The show, Enchantress Delacroix, was sure to be a hit. At least that's what the producers and the analytics guys had been saying. It had everything that was popular at the time - good storyline, rich people, a diverse cast, magic, violence, a trove of hot actors and actresses, and of course, tons of sex. That last part, admittedly, I was nervous about.

Being a Disney kid had given me a lot of experience with acting, fame and life in the spotlight in general. But as I grew older (and sexier according to a few hundred thousand young female Twitter and Instagram followers), it became time for me to step out of a child's role and into a young man's. My mom (who's my agent) advised me to pursue the role of Sebastian Poole, one of the love interests of the lead character, Margot Delacroix.

All I knew of the title was its being an insanely popular book series that the author had just completed a year or so ago. My mom practically forced me to audition for the part before I really even knew what I was getting myself into. I auditioned, got the part, and then was appalled at the alarming amount of nudity and scenes in the new HBO series. When I expressed my concerns, mom had simply advised me to be a professional about it like she was.

My mother, Yolanda Tennant, was famous for playing great characters in great TV shows and movies, all of which contained nudity and sex. With her glowing copper skin tone, expressive, gray eyes, lengthy legs and perfect B-cup breasts, producers and casting directors cast her in the sexiest roles. And she excelled at it. Mom was considered one of the hottest women in the world in her prime, which lasted well after she gave birth to my older brother, my twin sister, and me.

Hell, she had posed nude for magazines while pregnant on a few occasions and was still unsettlingly stunning. Even now she's objectively one of the most beautiful women I know. And that says a lot coming from her own son, whose job it is to work with and around beautiful women all day. Of course she's gotten older, but her skin seems more radiant than ever, her smile brighter, and her mystical eyes more beautiful.

She had gained a bit of weight, but that just made her more voluptuous, her body looking more full and complete. Mom's hair is now cut shorter, still very curly, jet black, and just as full as ever. Her long legs now thicker, breasts larger (D-cup, maybe bigger) and her butt is round and ample. Again, being completely objective.

I was six feet, two inches tall, baby faced, and tan skinned with a "panty melting smile" (an Instagram girl's words, not mine) and a solid body. Before we began filming, Mom hired a personal trainer to help me tone up my already impressive body. It exceeded the director's and producers' expectations in the first episode's topless scene, causing them to add a couple more like it throughout the series. I was comfortable enough with those scenes and felt great about my new look.

My acting chops had impressed them as well. The first few episodes we filmed really were all about characterization and establishing the setting and whatnot. I fell into my role of Sebastian quite easily, depicting his relationship with the other characters with impressive subtlety and skill. One such character was his boss, the secret sex mage, Margot, played by an older, more experienced and breathtakingly beautiful actress, Isabella Monroe.

As the weeks passed and the story progressed, Sebastian and Margot grow closer, and not just as employer/employee. After Sebastian helps Margot cover up her plot to murder a US Senator, he gets cold feet and suggests they go to the police. Margot casts a spell on him to compel his loyalty to her. And so, progressively, Sebastian begins to develop romantic feelings for Margot that he hides and tries to repress.

But eventually though, the feelings get too strong and Sebastian gets entangled into a... strange kind of romance with his mistress.

And that is where the problem began for me. Up to that point, I had been batting a thousand, playing my role perfectly with poise and maturity. And then there was the first 'kiss' scene.

Isabella Monroe was somewhat intimidating, though that may have been due to her role as Margot. The Sex Mage was the epitome of a boss bitch, a force of nature, complex but indomitable. Isabella played the role almost too well, staying in character most of the time she was on set. So it suffices to say that I was a bit overwhelmed with the scene.

"I am not to be had...," Margot says and pushes Sebastian away, palm resting against my partially bare chest through my open shirt. "...especially by some boy. A poor boy at that!" Margot's contempt spilled out of every line.

"Yes," Sebastian says, pressing forward and holding Margot's hand in place on his body, looking into her eyes. "I may be young, and poor, but what I lack in capital, I make up for in love for you. I'd do anything for you, Mrs. Delacroix. Anything!" Sebastian steps closer, puts his arms around Margot, who's wearing a low cut, white blouse, a short black pencil skirt, nylon stockings and heels. Instead of pushing him backwards, she allows him to walk her back to the edge of her desk.

"You are simply not man enough for me, Bastian," she said, finally, smiling. "Lofty proclamations of love and hard abs does not a man make, kiddo. Sorry." Margot smirks, gently removes his hand from hers, and her own hand from his body, then brushes past him and walks away toward the door.

Then, heart pounding in my chest, film crew watching, I snatch Isabella Monroe by the wrist, causing her to twist back into me and go in for the kiss with my shaky, nervous lips.

"Cut!" the director yells and the scene stops. He pulls me aside. "That..., just wasn't it, Shawn. You need more passion in that scene. You're in love with her and you're trying to prove you're man enough to take her! You've been meek and mild up to this moment but this is the moment the lion starts to show! You gotta show her you're not fucking around with her! Got it?"

I nod. We try again. I fail. Again. And then again and again and then two more times. Isabella, though remaining professional, is obviously frustrated, which makes me more nervous. I start screwing up the lines. The kiss gets worse. The director decides we're all tired and should get back at it in the morning. I look over at the crew - all of them see it's my fault. I see two of the producers murmuring with the casting director, probably questioning her decision to hire a twenty-year-old Disney kid to do hot and steamy. My heart sinks.

Behind one of the other crew members' shoulder I spot my mother. And for the first time since I was thirteen, I feel a pressing urge to go over to her, hide my face in her chest and have her gently stroke my head and tell me I'm talented, and that I'm special and that everything is going to be okay. But of course I don't do that. I'm a man now and I own up to my mistakes. I stay behind and go back over the script as the crew shuts down and trickles off the set and out of the studio.

"I remember my first kiss scene," I hear my mother say as I stand alone in the office set. "I was even more nervous. But, I guess my being nervous worked in my favor since I was playing an inexperienced teenager." I'm glad she stayed behind with me. I put the script on Mrs. Delacroix's desk and turn toward her. She immediately envelops me in her arms, kisses my cheek and hugs me warmly. She knows it's just what I need. I relax into her, inhale deeply. she smells so good. I exhale long, then I squeeze her tighter.

"Yeah," I sigh, not just yet willing to let mom go and she doesn't mind. I speak as I embrace her. "My situation is a little different. I have to be the aggressive one. But I guess I'm just realizing from reading the script that it's the stuff after the kiss that's got me nervous." I finally kiss mom's cheek and release the therapeutic hug but keep my hands on her hips. She keeps her hands on my shoulders and smiles as I look her up and down. She's wearing a long sleeve black dress, tighter up top and a bit flowy beneath the waist, with stockings and heels.

Though she's dressed professionally, Mom just emits sensuality, naturally, in the same way a light bulb gives off heat, even at 47, and I can't help but stare and appreciate her loveliness. She doesn't mind my lingering gazes. She never has. "Well, honey, you're an amazing actor. You're just not used to doing this type of thing yet. You need a little time to warm up to it. In my first nude scene with a man, we rehearsed it all day until we got used to each other. Once we got in front of the camera, it was pretty much organic."

I sigh and lean back against the desk, finally letting my hands fall from Mom's comfortable body. "I guess that's the problem. Isabella doesn't really rehearse her scenes. She says she doesn't need to and likes them to come naturally in the moment - which, well, is pretty much true. She's perfect on every take. It's always me who always fucks up." I sigh again.

"Okay, rehearse the scene with me then," Mom says, quite nonchalantly. Like it was the most obvious solution.

"But..., there's like..., kissing in this scene," I said, chuckling nervously. There's a little more than kissing in this scene.

"So?" Mom shrugs. "You have to get this right by tomorrow morning, and I think you're out of options."

I sit silently for a moment, running through the scene in my head. I furrow my brow and turn to mom. "Have you even read the script?" I ask in a semi-mocking tone.

"I've read the books. I know this scene." The confidence in her voice tells me she is unconcerned about what happens next.

"Are you sure we're doing it by the book? You know how HBO likes to ramp up the sex. Here, check out the script." I hand her the few pages of script describing the scene.

She skims the page. "Hm," she hums as she continues to read. She starts to smile, almost blushing. "Damn, they do ramp up the sex. Doesn't mean we can't rehearse this first part. Just so you're comfortable enough with the kiss. And maybe that'll make you more relaxed with the other stuff."

"I don't know. Even the kiss is a little..., um..., much."

Mom scoffed and waved her hand in the air dismissively. "It's just a kiss. C'mon, it's not like we've never kissed before."

"Not like that," I protested. "I wouldn't feel comfortable kissing you like this. It's too..., sensual." My cheeks and neck are starting to get heated with the embarrassment.

"Well, you're not comfortable kissing Isabella like this either, apparently, which is the problem. I can tell you're intimidated by her. But she's not her. And you're not you. You're Sebastian Poole and she's Margot Delacroix. If you keep overthinking it, you'll never be able to get the kiss right, let alone the other parts of this scene. And then the sex that goes on later... It gets pretty wild."

I resign. She's right. I sit silently, thinking about the later scenes. The first real sex scene, the second one, the threesome scene, the other threesome scene...

"Alright," I say. "I'll rehearse with you, but only up to the kiss. If I can get that right, then maybe the rest will start to flow."

"Alright, Mr. Poole," my mom says, smiling as she strides over to me, switching places so that she has her back to the desk and I stand in front of her. "What will it be?"

I get myself into character, taking a few deep breaths and remembering the past couple of scenes to assume the correct state of mind. Mrs. Delacroix had just kissed her husband, Adrien, making Sebastian jealous. And Sebastian had determined in his mind that he would have her - that he would take her from Adrien.

Mom and I open the scene just as Isabella and I did. We trade the lines and then the time comes for me to pull her to me and kiss her forcefully. And at this moment, I become myself again and Mrs. Delacroix transforms back into my mother. The kiss is stale and weak, tepid, and forced instead of steamy and forceful. I'm too aware that I'm kissing my own mother and can't bring myself to slip my tongue out. My heart is patterning even faster than it did when I kissed Isabella in a room full of people.

"Sorry," I sigh, apologizing partly for kissing my own mom and partly for kissing her so poorly.

"It's okay," Mom says reassuringly. "It's what we're here for, to practice... From the top."

We do our lines. She walks away. I snatch her into my arms and... and kiss her. Hesitantly.

"Better," Mom complements me, thumbing her lip. "I can feel the heat between us, but where's the tongue, baby boy?"

"Uh, I wasn't sure if you wanted..."

"Of course I do. Deep down. Remember, I only push away because I would be embarrassed to be with someone so lowly, but you know in your heart I want you. And you're here to show me that. Now show me, Bastian!"

I was asking my mother if she was comfortable kissing her son with tongue, but what I got was a response from Mrs. Delacroix. Okay. Stay in character. Remember your motivations. I still my nerves as best I can and we try again.

Lines. Pull. Kiss..., with... tongue. Tentative tongue. Timid tongue. A son's tongue.

"Boy, do you want me or not!?" Mom snaps after the kiss ends. I hang my head a little and begin to release my mom's body, but she objects. "No!" she says, pressing her body against me. "Stay close. You have to get over your nerves. Show me you want me." She surprises me by taking my hands and placing them on her ass.

That's not part of the scene, I'm saying internally, pulling myself right out of character. But Mom's bountiful, warm booty feels so surprisingly good in my hands. Sexy, yet comfortable. Familiar but out of bounds. Exciting and dangerous. I take a little more liberty, caressing Mom's booty. Her dress feels thinner and wispier than it looks, her warm flesh feels soft and cushy but substantial and weighty. If she's wearing underwear, I can't tell.

I feel a surge of guilt and try to recover Mrs. Delacroix to the forefront of my mind. It is a struggle. Mrs. Delacroix intimidated me more than she enticed me. But Mom? She feels good on me. Too good. Better than a mom should feel on her son. And also somehow just as cozy and familiar as she always had. It was like I was in danger of perverting a safe space with mom by caressing her ass like this. But I do not stop.

"There you go, baby boy. Fall into the role." Ironically, that's the opposite of what I'm doing. I am completely out of character as I grope my own mother like Sebastian would want to do Mrs. Delacroix. "Sometimes it's good to take your character off script to get a feel for what they really desire. And then what you learn about Sebastian, you take into the scene with you. Just for a minute, do what you think Sebastian would do if there was no resistance from Mrs. Delacroix."

I try to think of Margot. Or even Isabella. But the only thing that brings the right feeling - the thrilling, dangerous, sexy feeling that belongs to the scene - is to think, mom. To give in to it adds feelings of absolute wrongness to the mix of emotions and so I keep trying to resist it, even as my hands softly squeeze Mom's ample ass. Even as I bury my face in her neck and inhale the rapturous scent of her skin, humming quietly.

"That's it Bastian," my mother encourages my character. "Be a man. Take what you want. Take me."

It's too much. Just knowing I'm no longer in character and hearing my mom say, 'take me,' and being tempted to direct my sexual energy toward her. It's too wrong, too dangerous, and worse, it feels too damned good! I have to stop myself. I pull away, removing my hands from Mom's marvelous butt and I take a step back. "I can't do it. This is too weird."

"Oh, why not? You were just getting into character, honey."

"I know... but... but... don't you think this is still a little inappropriate? I mean..., doesn't it bother you that I'm your son?"

"Well, you're not supposed to be my son, you're supposed to be in character. You're supposed to be Sebastian. And I'm sure this is why the scene is so hard for you. If you feel this uncomfortable with me, I know you feel just as awkward with Isabella."

"No, it's more awkward with you because you're my mother!" I chuckle incredulously, unable to believe how mom can't see how wrong this is. "Doesn't it feel weird to have your own son kissing and touching you like that? Even though we're rehearsing a scene?"

"No, not really," Mom shrugs. "My job was to have strangers' hands all over me, and it used to bother me a little, but I'm used to it now. Having your hands on me doesn't bother me at all though. I'm actually surprised it bothers you so much."

"Why?" I ask, my voice a bit defensive. "I mean, what son was ever comfortable touching his mom's butt?"

"Oh, I don't know. It's just that you were always a little bit touchy-feely with me. Ever since you were little, and even now that you're grown. And lately it has felt a little bit more... intimate..." She lets the word float in the air.

Intimate.

Such an innocent, dangerous word.

"W- What are you saying?" I ask, hesitant.

Mom pauses, gazing into my face with her magical gray eyes for a few seconds, mouth half open like she wants to say something. She then purses her lips, looks away and sighs. "Nothing," she says dismissively. "Just that I feel we're a lot closer now and it shouldn't be so terrible to rehearse a scene together. That's all."

Even if it's a sexual scene? I ask silently.

I survey Mom's expression. Her countenance, usually gracefully optimistic, is now somewhat regretful. I had disappointed her. At first, I wondered if she knew she had turned me on a little just now. But I dismiss that possibility. I consider that she sees rehearsing with me as a way of bonding and sharing herself with me. To work together at the thing we do best - acting. I consider the fact that she has the heart of a teacher just helping me to hone my craft. And I was turning her down, refusing to be her pupil. Guilt sinks in.

I step forward. "Mom, I wasn't saying it would be terrible. I was just saying..., I was hoping it wasn't weird for you. Making sure you were comfortable with it, because really, I'm okay with it if you are."

She isn't so convinced. "You're just saying that," she says, her expression still slightly dour. "You still don't wanna do this-"

I step into her space. "No, I do. C'mon, Mom. Please, help me to do this scene. I still need to get this right before tomorrow morning."

She stands there, hands on her hips, reading me with her clairvoyant, gray eyes. Still not completely convinced.

I put my hands on mom's waist, just above her own hands. I slowly move my hands around to caress her lower back, my arms passing through the loops her arms make. "Mmm, Mrs. Delacroix," I moan into mom's face as my hands sink down over her fine ass again. I had all but forgotten the effect her lush booty had on me but now I'm freshly reminded. I dive in and have my way with Mom's big butt, squeezing it, lifting it, and even separating her cheeks a little, surprising her enough to gasp slightly. But I love it, especially when she begins to smile again. That gorgeous, winning smile of hers. Oh, Mom.

"I want you so bad," I sigh directly onto Mom's lips, tickling them gently with mine. She lets her hands glide up my arms, caressing them up to my shoulders. I trace down Mom's leg with my right hand and lift her knee up beside my hip, pull her against me and then kiss her soft lips.

Mom lets out a giggle after the kiss and I release her. "Now that was hot, baby boy. Your desire for me is so palpable! Okay, let's pick up where we left off. From the top."