When Life Hands You LemonsbyRainierWriterII©
Although this was submitted for the 2009 Valentine's Day Story Contest, please be aware that it falls under the Incest category, those opposed should avoid.
Many thanks to Gayle for editing my mess on such short notice...you're the best!
As always, comments welcome and please remember to vote.
My name is Sally Orton and I have a story to share with you. I'm sure most people would describe it much differently than I, but to me it's very simply a love story. The fact that it all came to a climax on Valentine's Day only serves to make my memories sweeter.
I had been divorced for just over three years at the time this story began, and until recently had not been ready to re-enter the dating scene. After being in my last relationship for close to two decades, the thought of going on a first date again was almost more than I could stand. My friends from work were relentless in trying to set me up, but I declined their offers repeatedly.
At 44 I guess I was at my sexual peek, and I'm a little ashamed to admit I'd been feeling more than a little horny of late. With no other outlet but my own fingers, I had rubbed myself off to cheesy romance novels on more than one occasion, and even discovered some interesting content on the net I used for self-pleasure. But as good as it made me feel in the moment, it also left an emptiness that was hard to ignore. The fact that it was the holiday season only exacerbated the problem. I was really desirous of a man's embrace, and pornography was simply not going to change that. After a lot of contemplation, I decided to finally relent and give dating a try.
Michelle, my best friend in the office, set me up with a friend of her husband's that I was, "sure to love." I spoke with James and he seemed pleasant enough, so we agreed to meet for dinner the evening of January eighteenth. As Michelle predicted, I did like him, and the date seemed to go pretty well overall. In fact, for my first date in about twenty years I'd say it was relatively painless, even quite enjoyable actually. Unfortunately for me, he must not have felt the same way because for whatever reason he never called for a second date.
My confidence somewhat shaken, my friends had me try again; this time I was assured it would be better since Candace just knew she had picked the perfect guy. Once again the date went fine in my mind, even better than the first, but he too never called again. I was left feeling extremely self-conscious and tortured myself with questions: "Was I unattractive? Boring? Overbearing?" Maybe I was putting out a prudish air as they didn't even try to kiss me at the end of the evening. God I just hated the dating scene! Neither Michelle nor Candace got any real feedback for me, so in my mind I continued to replay things to see what I might have done wrong or could do better.
I stared long and hard in the mirror and thought I looked pretty good for a gal my age (44). I stand 5'3", with shoulder-length brown hair, brown eyes, and a cute smile. Sure, I was packing a few extra pounds, maybe an extra 15 or so, but I thought I carried it well on my curvy frame. I'm no raving beauty mind you, but certainly no dog either.
After a lot of soul-searching, I consented to one last blind date and decided to pull out all the stops as it just so happened to fall on Valentine's Day. Apparently we were going dancing and after reviewing my sparse wardrobe I felt I needed something new, maybe a tad spicy. I went shopping and purchased a black cocktail dress, which really highlighted my figure. I purchased a new set of underwear too, a lacy black bra with matching panty, both scandalously small. Deciding to go for broke; I added a garter and stocking set, black of course. The final piece of my ensemble was a new pair of black three-inch heels, which I hoped would make my legs look longer and sleeker.
Valentine's Day finally dawned and I toiled distracted for much of the day before I left work early to take care of some last-minute details, eagerly anticipating the evening's activities. After my hair and nail appointment, I arrived home with just about an hour to get myself ready. I slipped into the tub for a thorough soaking to take care of the last few items on my personal checklist. Since I had not been in the company of a man for a while in a sexual way, I had neglected some of my personal grooming. That was remedied with the help of my trusty razor and by the time I was done both my legs and special place felt slick and clean. The intimate attention I showed myself really got my blood flowing as I imagined my date inspecting my handiwork later that evening, leaving me feeling very hot and bothered.
As I dressed the sensual feeling only heightened. The woman I saw in the mirror looked so sexy in her black panties and bra, complete with the new garter and stockings, I just had to stare for a moment. Stepping into the cocktail dress and easing it up into place; it felt like a second skin embracing me. For the first time in ages, I actually felt hot, damn hot. I was just sure that was going to be my lucky night.
My only son lived with me and I was curious how he would react to seeing me dressed in such a provocative way. I'm normally fairly conservative, so I was apprehensive that this may be somewhat of a shock for him. Being 21 and the only man in the house, Thomas had become protective, so I hoped he would not disapprove as I really needed his support. He had been so wonderful to me for ages, particularly since the divorce, I did not want to hurt him.
I made my way downstairs to say goodbye, and was surprised by my son's reaction upon seeing me. At first he looked shocked but quickly gathered himself and actually gave me a wolf whistle. He said, "Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"
My fears were instantly put to bed, so I twirled around to give him a look and asked, "You like?"
"Holy smokes Mom, you look amazing," he said nodding his head.
"It's not too much is it, I mean, not too sexy?" I asked, feeling a bit self-conscience in front of my only child in such a risqué dress.
"Ah Mom, this is a date, remember? Sexy is good," he answered. He then added, "And you look very sexy."
I felt myself blush at his assessment, so to break the tension requested, "Could you zip me up?"
"Sure thing Mom," he replied, and moved behind me.
When he was done, I turned and softly asked, "Well, wish me luck?"
Tom wrapped me in his arms in a tight embrace and said, "Good luck Mom. If this guy doesn't fall for you the second he lays eyes on you he's a damn fool. You're the best Valentine any guy could ever hope for."
Normally I would have cried but tried hard to refrain, not wanting to ruin my fresh makeup. It was simply uncanny how Tom always seemed to know just the right thing to say. I so needed to hear something like that from him, and I could only sigh in relief as he held me. He gave me a soft peck on the cheek and I was out the door and on my way.
As I drove to the club I reviewed my plans for the evening, hoping to make everything a success. If I liked the guy, I was going to try and hang on every word to make him think he was the most fascinating person I'd ever met. I also decided that I was going to make my desire obvious and would most likely go home with him if asked. My self-esteem needed a boost, so I was going all out. Come hell or high water someone was going to see the new finery I was sporting under my dress, and hopefully much more.
When I finally found a spot in the parking lot, I took a few minutes to check my makeup and adjust my dress before heading in. Being Valentine's Day the place was packed, but they had our reservations and I was soon escorted to a nice table where I waited, and waited, and waited. My date neither showed nor called. After an hour of sitting alone hoping he was just unavoidably detained, I finally was forced to admit to myself I'd been stood up, on Valentine's Day no less.
Tears welled in my eyes as I realized how foolish I must have looked, a lonely older woman all dressed up but sadly alone on Valentine's Day. I wondered if those at the tables around me actually felt sorry for me or maybe just thought me pathetic. My anticipation for the evening had been so great, I was completely humiliated. I paid for the drink and gathered my things, then quickly ran out the door to my car. I sat behind the wheel and sobbed uncontrollably, cursing my supposed friends for their part in the debacle.
After a good 15 minute cry I tried to regain a bit of dignity, wiped my face, then started the car and headed for home. When I arrived, Tom greeted me at the door and could tell by the look on my face something was wrong. "Mom, why are you home so early? What happened?" he asked with grave concern.
"Oh Thomas," I cried and flung myself into his arms. I could not stop the tears from flowing onto my son's shoulder as I wept openly, he holding me tightly. I looked up into his caring eyes and through my tears whispered, "He never showed up."
"Fucking bastard stood you up?" Tom barked and pulled me closer. Normally I would have scolded him for his language, but since I happened to completely agree with him at that moment I figured I'd let it go. "Well, he obviously didn't deserve you anyway," he added as I felt his hands run up and down my back like a parent would sooth a child.
After a few minutes of silently enjoying being held for a change, I reluctantly broke our embrace and pushed myself away from my son's arms. The last thing I wanted was pity, so I smiled as strongly as I could and said, "Thanks, Honey." With that, I turned away from him, heading for my room.
"Where are you going Mom?" he asked as I moved away.
"I'm going to get changed and go to bed; it's been a long day," I replied over my shoulder as I started up the stairs.
"Wait Mom," Tom said firmly, so I turned to look at him. "Since you're dressed and all, I'd like to take you out, I mean...if that's okay," he stated with as much confidence as I'm sure he could muster.
I was surprised and gratified by his request, but I also felt a bit sad as he must have felt sorry for me. "Thanks, but you don't have to do this Thomas," I responded, then turned and started upwards once more.
"I said wait!" Tom commanded loudly, and I felt compelled to turn and once again look at my boy. "I know I don't have to Mom, I WANT to," he said with great emphasis on want. "You look wonderful and I'd like to take you, period." he added, staring at me intently.
Tears welled in my eyes as I replied, "That's sweet Honey, it really is. Maybe some other time though, okay?"
"Come on Mom, we could both use a night out. Please let me take you," he pleaded. The look on my son's face showed such kindness and concern I was deeply moved.
Suddenly a thought hit me, "What about Tom's Valentine's Day? Why was he alone?" I had been so lost in myself I had forgotten about him.
"Why are you alone tonight Sweetheart?" I asked, feeling like a bad mother for neglecting my only child's feelings.
"It's not important Mom," He responded, but I could see something troubling in his eyes.
"Tell me, tell me Thomas," I begged.
"Well, I hoped to spend the evening with someone special, but it didn't work out," he answered rather sheepishly.
I contemplated his words and my situation, and figured what the heck. My father had always used the expression, "When life hands you lemons, make lemonade," so I figured I'd better try and make something of the evening after all. "Okay Sweetheart you win, let's do it," I offered with a fake smile.
"Great, just give me a couple minutes to get dressed and I'll be right back," he said before bounding up the stairs past me. Moments later I heard the shower running as I adjusted my makeup, trying to hide the fact that I'd been crying. Finally satisfied with my fresh paint job, I headed back downstairs to wait.
To say I was surprised when I saw my son re-enter the room would be an understatement, and once again I was left trying hard not to break into tears. Tom had dressed for the evening in a sharp black suit, complete with a crisp white shirt and red tie, none of which I even knew he owned. He looked amazingly handsome and knowing he'd done it just for me made the feeling more special. At six feet tall and broad in the shoulders, he looked more like a famous athlete or actor rather than the boy I'd raised for years. He came towards me and held out his elbow, "Are you ready, Madam?"
"Of course I am kind sir," I responded, feeling a little light-headed as I took his arm. My son certainly knew how to charm a lady. He walked me from the house and opened the passenger door of his car for me, then closed it behind me like a perfect gentleman. I was pleasantly surprised and wondered where he'd learned it, certainly not from his father. Tom had his share of girlfriends over the years, and I suddenly felt a tinge of jealousy thinking of how he must have pampered them. I also experienced a strange hint of excitement and eagerly contemplated just what else he may have in store for me.
We drove in silence as I was just so content to be going out after such a disastrous start that evening. After ten minutes on the road, Tom pulled the car into the nicest Italian restaurant in town and glided to a stop. Being Valentine's Day, our chances of getting a table were probably non-existent, plus the place was just too pricey. Tom had a good job in construction, but I didn't want him wasting his hard-earned money on a sympathy date for his mother. I was deeply flattered that Tom sought to take me to such a wonderful place and wanted to acknowledge it yet still give him an out if he needed one. "Honey, this is lovely, really, but shouldn't we go somewhere else?" I asked.
"No Mom, this is the place," he responded with a confident grin. Tom then added, "My friend Steve is a waiter here, so I already called and got us a table." All I could do was smile back as he exited the car to open my door, and then walk me hand in hand inside. We had only to wait a few minutes at the bar before we were led to our spot, which must have been the nicest place in the restaurant. Our table was in a dark corner set slightly higher than the others, overlooking the entire dining area.
Tom pulled out my chair as I took a seat, tingles running through my body at the gentlemanly attention I so rarely enjoyed. He looked so proud sitting across from me, knowing full-well I was impressed with his choices for the evening. Staring back at me was a man who looked so in control I hardly recognized him and I wondered just when he became so mature. My heart swelled as the admiration I held for my son only grew by the minute.
I ordered a glass of wine and sat sipping it, enjoying Tom's company as we awaited our food. Prior to that evening I had thought of him as my little boy, yet I learned so many new things as we chatted. I marveled at the depth of knowledge he possessed on so many subjects and could not recall a better conversation in my entire life. It was thrilling to have someone ask about me for a change, and he seemed to really want to know what I had to say. I actually felt giddy being with such a wonderful, attentive companion for the first time in years, maybe ever. The evening that had started out like such an utter train wreck had turned into an absolute delight. Our meal was divine, yet it was the company that really made the night so special.
The restaurant had a dance floor at the opposite side from us, and towards the end of our meal a big band started playing classic tunes as mostly older couples took to the floor. It did my heart good seeing them look upon one another with such love in their eyes, yet I almost felt like a voyeur intruding on their enjoyment of the holiday. I had not cut the rug in years and missed it so, feeling sadness at only being a spectator.
After our plates were cleared, Tom sheepishly asked, "Would you care to dance?"
"That's sweet Honey, but you don't have to dance with your old Mom," I answered, feeling very happy to have been asked nonetheless.
"But I want to Mom, really," he said as he stood from his chair, reaching out a hand towards my own.
I could feel color running to my cheeks as I placed my palm in his, before he led me out onto the floor. Now I must admit that my son was not the most accomplished dancer, but at that moment I didn't care, it just felt so good to be in someone's arms. Fortunately the song was a slow number so we basically just swayed to the music, me curled up against him, he holding me close.
Maybe it was the wine as I had downed a couple of glasses with dinner, but I felt incredibly turned on at that moment. I had so much anticipation for the evening before things went awry with my date, only to be rescued in the end by my gallant son. I'm sure my daring new clothes only heightened my arousal, making me feel younger than I had in ages. Tom's hands were wrapped around the small of my back, so close to my bottom, making me wonder what he was thinking. Did he have feelings too? Illicit ones? I had heard of the oedipal complex, but until that second had never really given it a thought.
I momentarily lifted my head off Tom's shoulder to scan the dance floor. Moving my eyes from couple to couple, I noticed I had the most handsome Valentine date by far. My heart may have skipped a beat when I realized I was thinking of my own son as, "My date." As weird as it sounded in my head, it felt strangely exciting everywhere else in my body. I actually hoped people thought we were a couple, that an older bird like me could still snag such a young stud, even if he was my own flesh and blood. I blushed at the very thought and rested my head on his shoulder once more.
We danced three wonderful songs together before the band played a quicker number, so we broke away and Tom escorted me back to the table hand in hand. I felt a deep sense of loneliness being out of his arms, but tried to remain composed and not show it. I ordered one last glass of wine to calm my frazzled nerves before we asked for the tab, which Thomas insisted on paying. He was so confident but sweet my heart just melted. "You don't have to do this," I said, but he pretended not to hear as he signed the bill.
We sat together in silence watching the dancers while I nursed my wine, before Tom leaned in towards me. In the semi-darkness, I saw him reach across the table for my hand, taking it tenderly within his own. I was surprised by his boldness but candidly thrilled as well, a tingle running from my fingers across the rest of my body. I looked at him and could see just the hint of a smile before he turned once more towards the dance floor, leaving me pondering what he was thinking.
As for myself, my head and heart were simply in overdrive. I'm not sure I had ever felt so completely appreciated, yet at the same time my mind was troubled. Did Tom have any idea how his words and actions were affecting me, and was it his intention to accomplish this? Was he experiencing any of the same feelings towards me?
Although surreal, the evening had been so perfect I could only sit completely still, not wanting to break any spell which may have been cast upon us. After another few songs Tom released my hand, stood and moved his chair alongside my own. I gazed at him in wonder, only turning away blushing after he sat and took my hand once more. Perverse thoughts once again filled my head as I sat nervously wondering what he was up to and what would happen next.
Before long Tom released my hand and wrapped his arm across my lower back, gently pulling us together. Unable to offer even the slightest protest, I simply leaned into him and rested my head on his shoulder. A feeling of safety and unconditional love washed over me and I could only bask in its warmth. My young son seemed so in control it was both surprising and arousing. Uncontrollably, blood rushed to both my nipples and pussy as my body reacted to a completely unexpected stimulus, which I tried hard to ignore. "God, please don't let my son know how hot he's making me," pounded through my brain.