The Term Paper

"Where are we going baby." She asked.

I was beginning to think she was still drunk but she seemed different. "It's a surprise but let's just say I had to call and bribe the concierge to push us up with a reservation." I said proudly, trying to act snobbish. "Besides does it really matter, hell the drive is better than being cooped up in the house all night."

Mom looked up at me," your right, you seem to be always right. Is that a blessing or a curse?" She asked giggling. She nestled her head into my chest breathing me in deeply. "Well at least you smell better, mmm a whole lot better." She purred sniffing my cologne. A manly but light musky sent with a hint of jasmine.

"Being right generally means you try to do right, but sometimes I just really want to be, you know- not so right." I laughed. The driver's radio was buzzing and squawking the lights from the cars council and gauges giving off an eerie green glow.

"Mmmm I know exactly what you mean baby." She turned her head and took a deep whiff of my shirt. "Yep, definitely much better."

There was a valet when we drove up to the restaurant that opened the car door for mom as I paid the cabby and told him I'd be calling later; if he's around, he can get a decent tip. He was happy with my generosity thus far so I'm pretty sure that he'll be back. About that time, the valet was opening my door for me though I didn't think I needed a hand but when in Rome I guess.

The place was beautiful and worth the hour drive, I read a review on the place and they called it "a museum of crystal master works with a modern take on fine cuisine." I just hoped they had steak. There were pedestals with beautiful crystal sculptures of animals and just fluctuating shapes, the light fixtures looked like crystal flames and a great crystal chandelier hung over the middle of the huge round room with round glass tables arranged in a spiral from the middle out, the center being a smaller two person setting. The concierges lead us to that table.

Unfortunately, mom wasn't thrilled about sitting in the middle of the room but the concierge assured us there were no other open tables and we had gotten lucky to get a table. So we humbly excepted it. As we sat, I looked over at mom, smiling "This is great; I get to really show you off." I said taking a sip from my water glass.

Mom shook her head smiling, "so you say but no one wants to see your old saggy momma." She whispered from across the table. I looked at her confused; I couldn't believe she really thought that.

The waiter arrived with menus and I ordered a beer. Mom mumbled off some kind of wine. He jotted it all down and hurried off, checking on a couple more tables on his way. We opened our menus, mom made a joke about how the waiter looked like a walking penis with glasses. I just stared at her for a moment chuckling. I admired her long neck, the slight slope of her shoulders and the way her long wavy locks cascaded over them. She was a knock out and any guy would be lucky to have her. For some reason though the thought of my mother and another man pained me with jealousy, I don't know why I'm beginning to develop these feelings about her like this. Maybe I've always felt this way and I just didn't realize it. Regardless, I found myself captivated in a way that was inappropriate. The waiter returned setting my beer down in front of me, handing me back my id, and then served mom a taste of the wine. She assured him it was fine and told him that he could leave the bottle. I asked him to give us a few more minutes to look.

"Honey I don't know about these prices?" she said, eyes almost bulging in shock.

"What's it matter, we can afford to splurge and we deserve this besides I'd hate for you to get all dudded up for nothen."

"Yea right, I look a mess, this heat has me wrung out, you weren't kidding about it being hot."

"Huh you should have seen it earlier today; it was a freaking scorcher,"

"I bet," she said taking a sip of her wine and sitting it down again, her fingertip gently tracing the rim of the glass. "I can't believe that bastard left me." She said beginning to tear up again.

I reached across the table and took her by the hand, "mom I know you think I'm just being nice when I say all those things to you but what you don't understand is I believe every one of them, this really is his loss, you've got to know that." I pleaded, trying to make her understand.

She looked me in my eyes and whispered, "what did I ever do to deserve you."

I smiled back at her sitting back in the seat and taking a long deep swallow of my beer. I looked down at the bottle and began toying with the label, trying to take it off without tearing it.

"What is it baby, what's wrong," mom asked.

"Nothing you can help me with momma. Ill hafta figure it out." I said pulling the label free of the glass bottle and smoothing it out on the table.

"Now come on, out with it, if you want to be here for me than you need to let me be there for you to." She said reaching over and snatching up my label. She took it and began folding it in a back and forth motion. I had seen her do this a thousand times but never could figure it out. "Come on honey, tell me what's wrong?"

I sat the menu down, I guess that was the universal signal for I'm ready to order now cause the waiter was there in like Wiley coyote speed. We both ordered the porterhouse with sautéed mushrooms and onions prepared in a wine reduction sauce and mom got the baked potato as I decided on sweet potato and cracked pepper fries. The aroma of the place made our stomachs rumble reminding us how empty our tanks were. "Mom took another drink from her newly refilled wine glass as I finished off the first round and quickly had a replacement.

"So "she said "You gonna tell me or do I hafta get tuff." She growled flicking her nose with her thumb against her nose like a boxer, making a fist like I was supposed to be scared or something,

I put my hands up in surrender. "alright, alright you got me- I'll talk, I'll talk." I laughed. "It's really no big deal though," I took another big swig of my beer and folded my hands, resting my elbows on the table. " I have an assignment, but I missed when they handed it out, well everyone determined there partners then and anyone that I could interview for the paper was already taken so now I'm kinda screwed."

Mom's brow scrunched confused, "so you have to conduct an interview for the paper but have no one to interview, do I have this right." She asked before emptying her second glass. Once again, the walking penis was there in quick time refilling her glass.

"Yep that's it in a nut shell."

"Ok so why not interview me then'?" she perked; the wine definitely taking effect. I busted into laughter, trying my dambedest to keep it down and not draw to much attention to us.

"What, what's so funny." Mom asked.

"Well" I chuckled, trying not to bust up again "it's not just the paper it's the subject matter."

Mom looked intrigued and I knew what was coming." No matter what it is it can't be that bad."

"Well," I said looking down at the table blushing and finishing off the second bottle of beer, and then poof; just like that, another one appeared. I could tell the alcohol was having a little of an effect on me as well. " I have to conduct an interview on human sexuality, basically." I could feel myself turning red and it was getting hot, but then again it could just be me.

"Honey I can do that, I do know a thing or two about the subject you know. I did have you after all." She laughed.

I sat back rubbing my finger across the edge of my top lip yet another quirky issue. " well mom it's not just about sex but the hang ups that you might have about acts or parts of sex and just what type of impact that those hang ups or turn ons have had on you. Not just in the sack but also in your everyday life, so you see, this is pretty intimate and deep." As I explained, she looked at me thinking god knows what about the situation but I was hoping she was coming up with a solution.

She took one last sip and called for the waiter, "yes, how can I help you ma'am?" The waiter asked with a heavy southern accent.

"Yes I'd like to switch to ginger ale, please, I'm gonna need to be able to think, I think." After the waiter had left mom took my hand. "I can do this, but I'm not sure you can. I haven't talked about things like this since before your aunt Marcie moved away, I probably need it to be honest, but I'm not sure you'll want to hear things like that about your momma. So I'm leaving the ball in your side of the pool."

When the waiter arrived with mother's ginger ale, he also had our food as well with an assortment of housemaid sauces and fresh baked sweet rolls. The meal was divine, honestly worth every penny, from the first succulent bite to the last. I have never tasted mushrooms and onions that I wanted to eat every day for the rest of my life but I have now. Mom's baked potato was the size of a football almost. I mentioned that I had never seen a potato so big and the waiter began to tell me about them while he was replacing my empty beer with a new one. My mother may need to sober but if I was really going to try and conduct this interview with her than I had better be a little more intoxicated I think. The waiter's heavy southern accent was beginning a little hard for me to follow but I tried. "We ship the potatoes in special from a vegan farm In Idaho of course. We begin preparing them the day before and slow bake them for a minimum of six hours so there not even ready for ordering till after lunch. I myself am not much of a baked potato type person but they are really good I think." It was easy to tell that the speech was rehearsed and probably recited over and over again through his work day.

Mom must have agreed because she was nodding to the waiter with a mouth full of maxed out potato. Complete with thick hardwood smoked bacon crumbles, melty, freshly shredded sharp cheddar and huge, cool, dollops of their own signature ranch flavored sour cream. The whole conversation really made me want a baked potato, and I don't even like them. Not that my fries were anything to shake a stick at. You could tell that they were made properly. Not soggy at all but crispy on the outside and tender in the middle, they had just the right sweet potato flavor but not too much that it seemed more like a desert and the fresh cracked black pepper and sea salt played well for that balance of sweet and savory. We sat savoring every bite, soaking in the atmosphere. It really was a nice place. Soon I was so stuffed I couldn't eat another mushroom. Once the waiter returned he took away our plates, packaging the left overs in a crystal clear containers and bags. He asked if there would be anything else and then laid down a leather bill folder between the two of us. Mom reached for it and I snatched real quick before her hand grasping at empty air.

"Aww to slow, "I giggled opening the bill and falling silent at the three digit number. Holy shit for a couple steaks and beers I held out my hand, "just give me the card, it doesn't matter what it says. We earned it, you earned it."

Mom pursed her lips and looked at me from the corner of her eye while rummaging through her handbag for her wallet. She slid the plastic card from her pink knock off leather and handed it to me. "Thank you" I said with a crooked grin plastered across my lips, placing the card in the slot of the billfold and handing it to the approaching southern penis looking waiter. Mom had to "go to the powder room" as she calls it. I stood outside the unisex restroom and called for the cab from my cell. By time she was finished we only had been waiting about five minutes before it pulled up. Different driver than I expected but a short conversation on the way home sent my mother into a big ball of motherly emotions. The driver told us that he had to sit in for the rest of the other one's shift since his wife had called him and gone into labor that night. I slipped him an extra ten bucks and told him that it was for the new daddy. I'm not sure if the guy will give it to him or not but I tend to try and believe in the basic moral decency of people.

I was light headed and a little dizzy, walking up arm and arm with my beautiful mother to the door. I couldn't take my eyes off her deep cleavage. She must have thought I was a complete perve but I imagine since she's my mother she already knew that. The booze was really taking its toll and like all good things, we obviously take advantage of it. So the first thing I did when we entered the house was give my mother a soft kiss to her cheek and made way to the twelve bottles of ale in the fridge.

"Where are you going?" mom asked catching me by the wrist before I got away.

"I was just going to get another beer, you want anything?" I asked wobbling a bit.

"Yes dear I do, I want you to make us a fresh pot of coffee, you don't need to be smashed while doing homework and I could use a pick me up. The dim hall light glittered in her eyes and for a minute, I think my heart puttered. I couldn't get over these feelings that were surfacing.

Maybe I could use a cup to wake me up I thought. "Ok, I can do that, I gotta pee pretty bad to so."

She shook her head laughing at me, obviously I was more than just a little buzzed. "Ok you do that but be sure to wash your hands after your done. I'm going to change out of this and slip into something more comfortable, any particular place you want to start this interview." She asked letting my wrist go.

I was stuck on "slipping into something more comfortable," A thought of the glimpse that I got of her big, soft, breasts earlier sprang to mind and I could immediately feel body becoming excited.

"Honey, are you ok, you look really flustered, are you going to be sick."

I shook my head trying to rattle the dirty taboo thoughts from my mind. "Yea mom I'm ok, I think. I just need some coffee," I agreed. " Umm as far as where," I said trying to think of where it would be most comfortable for us and I was drawing a blank because regardless of whatever location you do an interview with your mother about her sexual fetishes and hang ups it's not gonna be simple. " Umm well my books are in my room, you could sit on the bed and I could sit at the computer. That's sounds good to me."

"Honey, if you weren't my son I'd think you were trying to seduce me." She giggled swaying her hips like a model on the catwalk, climbing the stairs. I would have protested to the remark but I had to pee real bad and I was too busy staring at her ass.

The first floor bathroom was off from the kitchen, so since I had to go through there anyway I stopped to make the coffee first, squeezing my thighs together as tight as I could dancing the pee-pee dance to the sound of the faucet filling the glass pot up. Once I got everything situated, I ran to the bathroom, letting out a loud groan of relief as I pulled my cock out and let the stream go splashing down into the toilet bowl. I'm just curious am I the only one that thinks it's a little gross for bathrooms to be built so close to kitchens. It seems a staple that you always have a bathroom arranged somewhere close to the, kitchen. I'm sorry, I sometimes think of weird stuff while I'm pissing. I shook it and dabbed it with tissue before washing my hands, the waft of fresh brewed dunk n donuts coffee found its way to the bathroom filling my nose with its deep waking scent. Nothen says good morning, or its gonna be a long night like a fresh brewed pot.

Mom takes hers with a little cream and sugar; I on the other hand had learned to take it black after spending some long nights studying. I grabbed a tray and got the Irish cream dairy creamer out the fridge and placed the little pink pig sugar bowl , a couple big round mugs that were a little bigger than normal coffee mugs and a thermos I emptied the pot into in a tray. Balance is key here I told myself taking each step as carefully as possible which seemed more difficult than usual since I was still a little buzzed from all the beer. The door to my room was standing wide open and the dim light that spilled out told me the desk lamp was on. I didn't notice her at first trying to concentrate on not spilling the sugar and creamer I just focused on sitting the trey on the desk.

"Ok momma, I got the creamer and sugar and even put the coffee in a thermos in case we wanted another cup, no one'll hafta go all the way back down stairs." I said stirring sugar and creamer into mom's mug of the aromatic caramel colored beverage.

Turning around I had to bring the other hand up to cuff the bottom because I almost lost it when I saw the way my mother was dressed, laid up on my bed. She wore a light blue sheer knee length housecoat that was tied in the front with a pink sash. I knew this outfit, I had seen her in it once before, she thought I was asleep and snuck down stairs to get something. I was awake on the sofa making out with an ex-girlfriend. I caught a glimpse of her on her way through. There was a sheer thin gown, just as short and in the same colors underneath. Her knees were drawn up under her ass and she was lounged back with her elbow in the big stack of fluffy pillows I keep on my bed I love pillows, her head was propped up on her palm as the other hand reached out for the mug.

"Oh good, just what I needed." She said taking the hot mug from me and taking a good whiff of the steamy liquid. She sat it down on the side table after realizing it had to cool first, I sat down trying to avert my eyes from her massive cleavage under her robe.

I poured my own cup and didn't wait for it to cool, I didn't care if it blistered my mouth I had to get control of myself and sober up. Thing was though, I didn't feel quite as drunk now as I did earlier. My lips slurped and burned as I took a tiny sip. I sat the cup down, my eyes watering from the pain as I diverted my mind from naughty, perverted thoughts to more important things like how I was going to ask these questions. The good news is I already wrote out a series of questions for the interview so at least I'm ready, but this isn't going to be easy. Grabbing my textbook I began flipping through the pages before I found the series of questions that I had in a pamphlet stapled together. I pulled out my smart phone and opened up the voice recorder and grabbed a little note book to jot any reactions she might take to the questions or answers. There are very specific signs that we use to convey emotion and how we really feel about certain things. Think god mom hadn't picked up on any of the more odd behavior that I seemed caught up into this evening. I looked through the questions again trying to remind myself what they all were as mom sipped from her coffee waiting patiently. As I read through the questions, I kept looking back and forth between mom and the words on the page. I still wasn't certain how I was going to ask these to my own mother.

"Is there something wrong baby?" she asked.

I looked up in a slight panic; my face flushed "ummm mom, I'm not sure if I can do this or even that you can, I mean these are some really personal question." I said shuffling through the pages again. "I mean really personal."

"Do you have any other option dear?" She asked sweetly.

"No, not really," As sad as that is, no I don't have anyone else. I guess, like her I'm kind of a loner.

"Well, I guess that sums it up then huh? You can't afford not to ask them and I am willing to answer anything as long as it keeps you in school doing what you need to do." She said taking another drink of her coffee. She was right of course; I couldn't afford not asking the questions.

I sat the phone down and started the voice recorder, talking into it and playing it back to make sure that it was picking up everything ok. I slid my wheeled office desk chair over the thick fluffy carpet to get closer to the bed so that it could pick up anything that mom said. I pulled a blue ink pen from the wire spine of my notebook and flipped the questions back to the first page,