Beyond the Borderline Bk. 02byCPBaudelaire©
May not be reposted in whole or in part without express written consent of author. All rights reserved. Reproduction for profit is strictly prohibited. Posted exclusively on Literotica.
All characters having sex together are over 18 years of age.
Although drawn from my own experiences, this is a work of fiction. If you are offended by stories of incest between mothers and sons, you should skip this submission.
This is the continuation of "Beyond the Borderline, Book 1," which should be read prior to this segment.
Thanks to LaRascasse for editorial assistance.
My heart was ready to explode and Mom looked like she was about to faint. I squeezed her hand reassuringly and got out of the car, shaking hands with Sam and the ADA. I helped Mom out of the car and we all walked into the house. I don't quite understand how I was holding things together, but I think it was because I could sense how close Mom was to losing it. I had to be there for her, so I sucked it up and did what I needed to do.
I went to the kitchen and got glasses of water for everyone. Sitting in the living room, I waited for Mr. Marquand to begin, certain my beautiful, perfect world was about to end. I was devastated, but determined not to give anyone the satisfaction of a reaction.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Marquand began.
"I'm here as a matter of professional courtesy," he stated brusquely. "At the moment, this conversation is off the record. I will tell you frankly that if I had my way, we'd be downtown in an interrogation room right this minute. I'm meeting with you here, now, as a personal favor to Mr. Schiller.
"But make no mistake," he warned, "If the answers I get from you today are not satisfactory, if I think you're holding out or evading me in any way, we WILL be taking that trip downtown immediately."
Pausing, the ADA looked at Mom intently and spoke again. " The District Attorney and the DEA are curious as to how you are acquainted with one Anton Dobriynin, otherwise known as 'Vanya.' You were seen during a surveillance operation of his place of business. You should know that Dobriynin is a known gangster, active in money laundering, drug running and human trafficking."
It took a moment for those words to register. DEA? What the fuck...? If the DEA was involved, then this had nothing to do with Mom and me. That meant that we were okay. We were okay! Hot damn, we were OKAY! I wanted to turn handsprings. I wanted to kiss Mom right in front of Sam and Mr.Marquand. I felt alive again for the first time in days.
The significance of the ADA's question wasn't lost on Mom either. She allowed herself a small smile and then relaxed, leaning back into her chair.
"A few weeks ago," she began with a deep breath, "I was contacted by a certain Mr. Washington, a potential new client for our firm. The services he required from us were potentially very lucrative for the firm, perhaps has much as 700 billable hours a year, probably around a quarter million dollars, annually. Naturally, I was interested, but there was something about the questions this man asked, something about how he conducted himself, that made me a bit nervous. I immediately discussed the situation with our senior partner and he agreed that before we took on Mr. Washington's business, that we should do some checking for our own protection."
"After that, I contracted Mr. Schiller's services to do some checking on our potential client. I contacted Mr. Washington and told him that we were willing to consider him, but that our usual policy was to discuss large, new contracts at the board level prior to formal acceptance. I told him that we would be doing so within the next few weeks and he seemed satisfied with that assurance."
"Subsequently, Sam was able to determine that there were...irregularities in Mr. Washington's background. Through Sam's contacts, we got information that the person we were interacting with was probably using an alias. We were doing the last bit of fact checking when Sam took us to Brighton Beach. He's the one who stumbled onto your presence there."
"Why was your son with you?" ADA Marquand asked pointedly. "He has no connection to any of this."
"It's true," I interrupted, "But I do know a bit about what's going on. How could I not, with Mom meeting with Sam several times at home? I wanted to be there to protect Mom. Sam wasn't happy about that, but I made him take me, against his better judgment. That's all on me. Knowing what I do now, I guess neither Mom or me had any business being there."
"I have a reputation for being thorough, Mr. Marquand," Mom added. "In retrospect, I probably had enough information to drop 'Mr. Washington' before then. Getting that last bit of intelligence was probably not a good idea. I hope we didn't compromise anything you're doing," she said contritely.
"Well," Mr. Marquand said heavily, "Nothing substantive, except about a hundred man-hours of extra investigative time checking you guys out, which I can't get back. Your appearance was unexpected and perplexing, but what you are saying jibes with what Sam has told us, along with the files Mr. Briggs turned over to us. My advice to you is to stay on your side of the street in the future, Ms. Lindermann. Corporate and criminal law are not things that someone in your position should try and mix. Once you were reasonably certain that 'Mr. Washington' was a dodgy character, you should have given us a head's up."
"I think it's safe to say I've learned my lesson," Mom smiled. "I don't plan on troubling you any further."
Mr. Marquand shook our hands briskly and departed, with Sam staying behind, explaining, "My car's around the corner."
Sitting heavily in our La-Z-Boy, Sam regarded us seriously.
"This is partly my fault. I should have done things differently, insulated both of you more from the process. Anyway," he concluded, "It's all behind us now."
Reaching into his jacket pocket, he produced two Canadian IDs. "I was able to get these done by a different route. They aren't as perfect as what I had originally planned, but they should pass muster," he concluded, handing them over.
My nom de deception was one Richard Lewis, of Selkirk, Manitoba, while Mom was Regina Worthington, from Saskatoon, Saskatchewan.
"I still don't know what your game is," Sam said quietly, "But I have an idea. I'm not sure I approve, but it's really none of my business. I'm not here to pass moral judgments. You're both good folks and entitled to your privacy, so we'll leave it at that and I'll say good bye."
With that, he rose and let himself out, slipping quietly out of our living room and lives, an enigmatic and inscrutable man to the last. We never heard from him again.
Mom and I simply sat on the sofa, numbed by the turn of events. I'm not sure how long we sat there in silence, perhaps a half hour. We were both exhausted at that point and good for absolutely nothing. Eventually we made it upstairs and into bed, just holding each other. Mom shivered in my arms for over an hour before she finally fell asleep and I wasn't much better off.
Around five in the morning, we both woke up and made love until sunrise. It was simple, joyous and cathartic, leaving us pleasantly drained but rejuvenated and finally purged of the toxic events of the past weeks.
Mom was subsequently able to back check our new IDs in her own fashion and pronounced them sound. Then we applied for my passport. Mom felt that she was unlikely to ever need her ID and simply put it away for safekeeping.
The day I finally got my passport, we heaved a huge, collective sigh of relief. To celebrate, we went out for dinner and dancing that evening, returning to the supper club where I took Mom for our first "date." Mom again wore her red sequined evening dress, while I was attired in slacks, tie and a blazer. As she descended the stairs to the living room, I let out a wolf whistle. "Mom, I can't get over how good that dress looks on you! I love everything about it and what's inside it."
Smiling wickedly, Mom slowly pirouetted in front of me. Abruptly, she bent slightly at the waist, thrusting her bottom towards me at the same time. She pulled the hem of her dress up to expose her silky red boy shorts and warbled, "Boo-boop-de-doop," in a high squeaky voice, doing her best Betty Boop imitation.
Gliding up to me, Mom stepped into my embrace, sliding her arms up my back and around my shoulders, rubbing her breasts against my chest. Tilting her head up, she gave me a lingering kiss to still my laughter, tongue dancing against mine as I responded in turn. "Mmmmm, thanks Ricky. I always like to look my best for you."
"Mom, if you wore a burlap sack and Depends, you'd still be the most gorgeous, sexy woman in the world." I dropped my hands to her ass giving each cheek a good, thorough groping. Reaching up under the hem of her dress, I stroked the crevice between her marvelous cheeks and slid my middle finger forward to lightly caress her slightly moist slit.
Batting my hand away with a laugh and a slight shudder, she chastised me, "Enough, you maniac! There's going to be order and sequence to this evening, young man. I am looking forward to Sorvino's veal piccata - it's almost as good as yours. I'm also looking forward very much to an evening of dancing with my handsome husband-son, so don't think you're going to distract me with your sweet words and roving hands. After that, then we'll fuck each other senseless, but not until then."
"Ah, well" I conceded. "You can't blame a healthy, horny young fella for falling for your considerable charms though, can you?"
Linking her arm in mine, she steered us through the kitchen and into the garage. "Behave yourself and I'll share a surprise with you a little later," she said, as I handed her into the car.
Our drive to Sorvino's was uneventful, Mom snuggled under my arm, her hand casually resting on my thigh as we wound our way through the countryside to the supper club. She let her dress ride up as we drove, exposing an amazing pair of low rise, red satin boy shorts to match her dress. Catching me glancing at her crotch several times, she smiled and ruffled my hair. "Eyes on the road, lover. You'll get my goodies soon enough."
"Who's teasing who now, Mom?" I laughed, returning my concentration to the street.
Once we arrived, I handed the car off to the valet, who ogled Mom with ill-concealed lust as I helped her out of the car. Taking her arm in mine, I escorted her into lobby. "I don't think I'll tip that guy," I declared grumpily as we walked. "I don't like other men trying to look up your dress, although I suppose I can't blame him - you look ravishing this evening, Mom."
"My, my, aren't we the jealous one tonight," Mom teased. Her hand tightened on my arm and she pecked my cheek. "I like it, sweetheart."
As we approached the welcome podium, I sought out the Maître d', slipping him an Andy Jackson and requesting a secluded table. He was more than happy to comply, his eyes discretely but appreciatively flowing over Mom's form as he accepted my inducement. We ended up in a booth in the far corner of the dining room, essentially out of view from the other tables, but with clear access to the dance floor. When Mom slid into her seat, she opened her legs wide, giving me a huge beaver shot, as she grinned wickedly. The sight of her silky panties tightly stretched over her mons had me riveted to the spot. I could clearly see the outline of her labia, her curly pubes spilling out on either side of the small strip of cloth, a hint of dampness on the shiny fabric. I was fully erect in a flash.
"You're a sinful woman, teasing your date like that."
"A lady needs to keep her beau interested and attentive, though, don't you think?"
"Keep that up and 'interested and attentive' will turn into bending you over the table right now and boning you in front of the orchestra."
"I could always 'accidentally' spill a glass of ice water into your lap, if that would help."
"No thanks, I think I'll do my best to suffer in silence, " I retorted as I slid in next to Mom.
Slipping my arm around her shoulders, I kissed her cheek. "Shall I order a split of champagne to celebrate?"
"Nothing for me, love. I'm on the wagon for now."
Always slow on the uptake, I didn't understand why Mom would refuse, as champagne was one of her favorite tipples. A lack of comprehension must have been clear on my face, because she added, "I've been skipping breakfast this past week, because I've been pretty nauseous every morning."
Light slowly dawned on marble head and then it hit me like the proverbial runaway train. "Oh. My. God. You're pregnant? You're really, truly pregnant?"
"You're gonna be a poppa, Ricky," she said, tears of happiness glistening in her eyes.
Drawing her to me, I showered her with kisses, lips, cheeks, forehead and lips again. I started to get choked up myself. "Oh, Mom, I'm so happy! I love you so much!" I gripped her shoulders, staring at her, grinning like a fool. Taking her in my arms, I kissed her again, soundly, tenderly and passionately. She melted against me, lips parting, a soft moan escaping as our tongues found each other. Our embrace was interrupted by the waiter, diffidently clearing his throat. "Pardon me. Can I take your order?"
Somewhat miffed at his bad timing, I responded rather curtly, "Sorry, we haven't even looked at the menu yet. Can you give us a few more minutes?"
After the waiter departed somewhat huffily, I kissed Mom again. She snuggled against me, holding my hand. "You're truly happy, Ricky?"
"I'm the luckiest guy in the world," I whispered, my voice tight with emotion. "My beautiful mom is my lover, my woman and mother to our child. I can't imagine anything more wonderful."
"I went to see my OB this morning."
"Yes, Ricky, just fine. Dr. Stern was a little surprised I got the ball rolling so quickly, but I did tell her at my last visit that I had found my man and wanted a child with him. She did want to do an amniocentesis on account of my age, but that was one thing that definitely wasn't going to happen," Mom said flatly and decisively.
"I told her that we were carrying this pregnancy to term, and that our child would be loved as well as anyone could possibly do, regardless of any potential difficulties."
Mom then cast a slightly apprehensive look to me, asking, "You do feel that way don't you, Ricky? We are taking a risk, you know, actually a pretty big one if there is a problem with the baby."
"I know, Mom. We didn't really talk about it before, since we both wanted it. But yes, I have given it a lot of thought. I looked up a few things on the web, but a most of the genetic stuff was pretty technical. I didn't understand a lot of it, but the upshot was that there are some increased risks, but they aren't hugely elevated, just some. Mothers and sons and fathers and daughters have higher risks than brothers and sisters or cousins, but the odds still favor us."
"Bottom line, pretty lady, is that I'm with you all the way," I declared decisively. "I could never terminate one of our children, even if I knew there were going to be issues."
"I'm so glad to hear you say that, Ricky," Mom said with obvious relief. "I was pretty certain I knew how you felt, but I needed to hear it from you anyway."
"Sooo, that being the case, I have another little surprise for you," she said, reaching for her purse. She pulled out a black and white Polaroid snapshot and placed it on the table between us. "This is from my ultrasound today. That gray, pear-shaped thing is my uterus. That little stripe in the center is the lining of the womb. See that little circle inside the lining, with the little squiggle in it? That's our child."
"Wow, that's so cool. What's that other thing next to it? It looks the same."
"That's our other child, Ricky."
I think if I hadn't been sitting down, I would have passed out. I knew we both wanted children very much and had been trying nearly every night (and some days too) to bring this about, but twins? I could only shake my head in wonderment.
As we sat, holding hands and basking in the glow of our wonderful news, I leaned over to whisper in Mom's ear. "We've been fucking too much. If we hadn't been so horny all the time, we'd just have a simple, single pregnancy."
Mom laughed delightedly and elbowed me in the ribs. "What is this WE business? I'm a victim of your insatiable desire and perpetual erections. This is all your fault, you oversexed brute!"
"Riiiight...and Anna Nicole Smith married J. Howard Marshall for love," I retorted.
"Anyway, you know very well that's not how it works. Besides, if your reasoning was correct, I'd have at least quadruplets, you randy boy!" Sidling closer to me, Mom ran her hand lightly over my crotch, giving me a gentle squeeze. "I'll give you fair warning, bucko. When I'm pregnant, I'm the insatiable one. I hope you can keep up with me. I'm going to need your fine cock at least twice a day when my hormones start ramping up."
Shivering briefly with anticipation, I changed the subject, gesturing to the menu. "Are you going to introduce the twins to the veal piccata?"
"You betcha. What about you?"
"I think I'll take your warning to heart and start with some carbohydrate loading. 'Linguine Tutto Mare' for me. How about we begin with some antipasti?"
The meal progressed in leisurely fashion, Mom and I sitting close to one another, exchanging occasional caresses under the table and many sweet, lingering kisses. As we were enjoying our entrees, the band members and singer filed into the room and began preparing for the evening's music. I turned to Mom and took her hand. "Would the lovely lady care to dance?"
"Let me powder my nose first, darling. I'll be right back."
A few minutes later, standing by our table waiting, I saw Mom walking towards me. Watching her stroll across the dance floor, I thought I detected a more than usual sensuous roll to her hips and a certain seductive quality to her gaze as she came towards me. I don't think I was imagining it, because she was turning heads among many of the other diners as she made her way to our table. I actually saw one beautiful brunette licking her lips as Mom went by her. When she reached me, she slipped her arms around me slowly bringing them up my back and around my shoulders. Squeezing me tight, she gave me a deep kiss, tongue lightly teasing mine. "Your mother is always ready to dance with her handsome son," she whispered in my ear. "You can have this dance and all the dances after this one, for the rest of my life, lover."
Taking both her hands in mine, I backed out onto the floor, drawing her with me. As the singer began, I knew immediately that we were in for a special evening. A statuesque black lady of around 50, dressed in a floor length, sapphire blue evening gown, she exuded class and sophistication and her opening number promised a wonderful evening's entertainment. Beginning with "Skylark," the Hoagy Carmichael/Johnny Mercer classic, she immediately reminded me of Dianne Reeves. "Skylark" became "Straighten Up and Fly Right," which in turn segued into "I Concentrate On You." Mom and I were lost in the music and wonderfully sung lyrics, slowly swaying with each other, in contact from thigh to shoulder as we moved. I was hard as a piece of rebar, but curiously, I really wasn't feeling any urgency about it. I was glad Mom could feel my excitement, but I was into the moment, holding her close, intoxicated by her presence and the familiar, comforting smell of soap and sandalwood.
Slipping my hand from her back and placing it under her chin, I gently tilted her head to me for a kiss. "I love you so much, Mom. I never thought I could be any happier, now that we're together, but after today, knowing you're having our babies - I just don't have the words." She sighed and hugged me closer, resting her head on my chest. We floated along on our private cloud, savoring our closeness without words, our universe again collapsing down to just the two of us, caught in a timeless moment. We barely noticed when the band and singer took a break. Forty-five minutes had passed in the blink of an eye.