Dinner at home dulled in comparison to the lively afternoon activities that had zapped all the energy I seemed to possess hours before. A new world had opened up for me. One filled with burning sensations that seized my lower abdomen. Waves of excitement came and left. Mom, in her own way knew something was going on with me. She'd get around to it. I was sure of that.
Her hair was pulled back in a messy but classy tuft behind her head. A few strings were brushed away from her hazel eyes as she threw her head back to swallow a gulp of her evening vodka mix. She had a restless and disturbing beauty that must have been enchanting in her twenties. She still possessed all the allure, even if she was my mother. An admirable and noble allure, the kind I'm sure my dad found appealing. Vodka was his replacement.
"Hayden, dear," she started in as she served another helping of whipped mashed potatoes smoothly on the plate before me. "How was your afternoon with that girl from down the way?" She put the finger nail of her ring finger in her teeth quizzically. "What's her name?" She was fishing now, and the ease that her drink gave her was freeing her up to ask. "Jill? Is that right...?"
Her name even sounded lovely riddled with insinuation. I wanted to sing her a song. I wanted to jump up on the table and rip off my clothes and belt out, "Her name is Jill, and it was De-lightful! Absolutely DEE-Lightful!!" Instead I blurted, "Yes, Jill, it's Jill, and it was fine." "Fine." Answers any questions adults shoot at you, without giving too much away. But it wasn't too clear yet. Besides, a table dance for my mother would have been absurd. And no doubt it would bring more questions, or a heart attack.
"So, what did you do?" She was trying to sound uninterested, but by doing that, she only gave herself away. We both knew each other too well to play these games. But we went on...
"We just climbed a couple trees." Simple enough. But did she buy it??
"Jill. I knew that. She seems sweet." And then she added, "It must be nice to be young in the summer time." She hinted just enough to instill the doubts she had in my simple little lie. She trailed off. Her eyes hid nothing. A quality we shared. She had a way of leaving a room without ever moving. Perhaps she went back in time to one of her younger days in the summer sunshine. Maybe dad was there, too.
The phone rang. Mom snapped out of her dazed vodka bliss to answer it. I knew by the tone in her voice the conversation would last until after dinner was cold and the whipped potatoes crusted over. I sculpted what I thought Jill's face would look like with her eyes closed, using the bowl of the spoon and what was left of the potatoes. She was beautiful.
I sauntered out of the dining room and up the stairs. My thighs ached on the upper side. And as I closed my eyes and pulled the covers up over my head that night, Jill's face pierced the dark inside my eyelids. And, again, for the umpteenth time that day, I had the most heavenly sensation of an erection. It was gorgeous and guilty, but an absolutely delightful familiarity that I would grow accustomed to.
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