Secret No Longer Ch. 13

[ Dear Readers:

If you prefer to read episodes of this series without their predecessors, that's fine and I hope you enjoy them that way. Just a heads-up, though: It's not meant to be an anthology. All the episodes (except the first) build on those before them, so you'll probably conclude some things differently from what was intended.

SPECIAL NOTE HERE: We are at the part of the story where personal and emotional consequences of the past are coming to the fore. Here, and probably in some chapters to follow, there may be no sex at all. I don't expect very high vote figures for them, perhaps, but if you complain about that in the user comments, don't expect your post to remain there long.

Some of our readers' public and private comments touch on unmentioned matters, just a few of which are safe sex, STDs and common real-world consequences of things and events in the story.

Two chief rules in theatre are, first, everything on stage must have a reason to be there, second, everything that the action requires must be present, whether explicitly or implicitly. It's not much different in written fiction. By the second rule, if a story does not get into some particular issue explicitly or implicitly (for example, indirectly through consequences) then it is irrelevant because the author deems it so and asks the reader to consider that issue adequately handled without mention. Sometimes action may be simplified a little from what is actually meant for the sake of smoothness and avoiding distracting details unnecessary for understanding the scene. A good author has respect for the reader's intelligence and imagination and does not feel compelled to paint every scene with photographic detail.

In short, if it ain't there, it don't matter. Please remember that this is a story, not a case study or the news.]

[ Yet more notes:

At this point in the story I had one more chapter of events of the Decadent Period. That, I now believe, is one too many. It's time to get to the dénouement, so I've set that part aside for now. I have a follow-up series in mind, and if there's interest, I'll include it there. Meanwhile, here is the exposition for this chapter.

On the previous night, Linda, increasingly reveling in the attention shown her by her son's friends, has persuaded him to take her to a party he planned to attend. He's reluctant, expecting to be teased over bringing his mommy with him, but it's soon apparent that she's fitting in just fine. Later on, as the party gets more intimate, and a little bit of alcohol eases things along, Linda finally gets her chance to cut loose and give her exhibitionist fantasies free rein--but at a price: in her giddy state, Linda loses control of her wall of denial and makes a prounouncement she did not want anyone to hear--most of all, herself. ]

"To state the obvious, you were a real hit last night, Mom," Jason said, and as it sounded to me, proudly.

"Thank you, Jason, you're very kind."

By now, the reflexive habit of gagging those inconvenient voices protesting my continuing misbehavior had become not only automatic, but very efficient. An adequate catharsis had followed that time of tears and eviscerating agony, and now both of us were back to our artificially exuberant state.

"Kind, nothin'! Did you hear them?"

"Sure I did. And if makes me wonder a bit, with nudity and raw sex practically falling into our laps out of the blue everywhere--I mean, look at cable, and movies, just about any newsstand, and...whew!...all over the Internet--how these young, virile friends of yours should get such a kick out of an old lady whose most extreme move was going full frontal for them?"

"I think that there's a lesson there, about what it really means to be sexy. Like, look at that stuff you just mentioned; most of it looks like the people who made it think sexy just means skin. What you showed them last night was sexy that comes from inside. That's what really did it. They got turned on because you were turned on..."

"That I was, Son; that I was indeed!"

"...and you didn't keep it locked up. They tapped into it. That's what happened, and why they're looking forward to next time."

"They are? I didn't hear anything about that."

"I did, before you did your speech. After that, well, neither one of us was very interested in that subject, let's face it."

"I'd rather not think about that right now. Not to mention that...other problem, the one I mentioned in the car. How are we going to... Oh, to hell with it! Can't change the past; let's just forget it."

As if that were even remotely possible. But that reflex took over. I felt fine.

"Nor I, Mom," said Jason.

Timmy and Carla came by for a quick visit. As Jason's main squeeze, Carla was naturally finding lots of reasons to come here, so now and then, when she and her brother had somewhere to go together, they'd both drop by and visit for a while. Most of the time the visits were nothing special, nothing that would seem at all out of the ordinary to the casual (and uninformed) observer.

Like I said, that's most of of the visits.

"You missed the chance of a lifetime last night, Buddy," Jason was saying to Timmy as I passed by on my way to the kitchen.

"So saith the grapevine, Jase," replied Timmy, innocently provoking a short but sharp bolt of panic within me, which fortunately he was not in a position to observe upon my features at the time.

"Nobody was getting it on video, by any chance?"

"They'd damn well better not have!" I shouted, making my way back to my room, spoken in a jesting tone, but with no jest in the meaning.

"Nope. No reason to, at least, no reason anyone could have anticipated in time to get a camera ready."

Funny how things work sometimes. These two emotional jolts sprinting from Timmy's offhand comments were frightening, definitely negative, but with their fading, or rather, suppression, the stimulation left an unexpected little tingle. I grabbed the dress I wore to the party, quickly put it on, and made my way back to the three, throwing a sultry little sway in my walk.

"I was wearing this," I told them. As befits the nature of the party, and Jason's little advisory, it was flattering, sexy, but not to an extreme. Timmy liked it.

"You do have a way of making ordinary clothes seem extraordinary, Linda," Timmy said, openly admiring me, while Carla seconded his opinion with a little nod.

"Why thank you," I replied, "Hey, Jason, let's show them that move I did with Ells last night."

"Uh...Well, sure, I'll try. Here we...go!"

Jason had plenty of strength but none of Ellis' skill; next to Ellis' graceful lift, Jason's was pretty comical. Still they got the idea.

"Actually, they did something like a somersault on the way up. Perhaps we'd better leave that to your imaginations right now."

"No offense, Jase, but I think you're right," Timmy ribbed.

I did manage to make it up to Jason's shoulders, and, just as I had the night before, I shimmied the dress off my breasts and made that little exultant gesture. Timmy and Carla cheered and applauded, a bit more like a comic gesture, but they meant it.

"Then, when we came back...down..." said I, grunting a bit on the last word as my son inexpertly lowered me to the floor, "he had his hands like this. Show them, Jason."

That he could do.

"And off came the dress," said I, matching the words to the deed. Both of our guests were enjoying the show, but Timmy was definitely reacting differently from his purely heterosexual sister, and not trying to hide it.

"I then did a little tease with the panties, sort of like this, but probably a lot hotter, considering the state I was in. It was actually closer to the other day when I was taking them off for you, Timmy."

The panties slipped off.

"Last night was probably halfway between then and right now. I was excited last night, but not nearly the way I was with you three."

"I'll never forget that, Linda," Timmy said, quietly and earnestly.

"I don't think any of us will," Carly added.

"So, guess we'll be going. Nice to see you," Timmy said, turning to go.

"What's your hurry, you two?" Jason asked.

Just a moment or two elapsed before Timmy and Carla got the message. Smiling, Carla turned to Jason and Timmy turned to me. In an instant his shirt was off and I felt his strong arms encircling me, by bare breasts pressing against his chest, and the rapid swelling of the gift between his legs...

Some hours passed and the sun disappeared behind the rooftops west of us, heralding early evening. My son and I were enjoying the warm caress of the shower together.

Suddenly Jason tensed up.

"Did you hear something?" he hissed.

"Hear what, Jason?" I hadn't heard anything.

"Like someone's in the house."

Instantly, shock overpowered all my senses, breeding panic within me. For a moment I felt paralyzed, unable to move, even to speak.

"I'd better check it out," said my son. "I'll be right back. Maybe you should take that cordless over there and be ready to dial 911, just in case. Listen in case I have to yell something to you."

"I'll do that," I whispered, thrilling in a way horribly unlike the way I had so frequently enjoyed in the recent past. "Hurry!"

Time passed, much too much,. and Jason returned.

"False alarm. There's nothing here, nobody either."

An inestimable well of tension drained from me with a sigh.

"Thank God for that."

The next day was filled with an assortment of chores that seemed to have backed up for weeks. Maybe they had. In any case, we saw little of each other until evening.

Despite all you've heard so far, we were not getting naked and hot every spare moment, at least, not after those first few days after we surrendered our incestuous virginity. As of this evening we had not actually had sex for several days, and the tension was making itself felt. I sat on the sofa, Jason not far away, and drew him to me. Our lips met inexactly as his movements making his way over were a bit unstable. He tugged at my terry-cloth robe and it fell open. I tingled at the first contact of his hands on my breasts.

He started planting those little kisses long my neck that I love so much. My insides were taking on that loose, quivering quality that marks the very earliest moments of arousal. His fingers touched my forehead.

And then, abruptly, he turned his head away, forcing me to look in the same direction.

There stood a man, an ashen-faced, deeply troubled man, a man whose very presence rendered the atmosphere thick and blue, making of it a miasma that drove daggers of unspeakable apprehension deep into me. I looked; I stared, turned to Jason, then back to the man, confused.

"Sammy...???"

(to be continued)