Being a grown-up is a lot of work. My life since the first of the year had been full of classes, projects, homework, and studying. The days changed but the amount of work never did. My free time never lived up to its name, either. I had dozens of ways to fill it, and the weekends were worse. Christy and I managed a few ski trips, but I still seemed to be busy all the time, so I was looking forward to spring break and a well-deserved vacation.

I finished my last exam and straightened the papers on my desk. Then I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and did absolutely nothing. It felt good to relax and clear my mind, if only for a few minutes. But eventually I had to get going, so I slung my backpack over my shoulder and turned in the exam. I’d probably never see the professor again, but I told her I’d enjoyed the course. She thanked me and said to enjoy my break.

I walked outside and turned my face to the sun to soak up the warmth. The weather had been beautiful for the past week, which had made it hard to focus and study. The mornings were still cold, but the afternoons were balmy and clear. I rolled up my sleeves and strolled toward home.

The house was empty when I arrived. I’d taken Christy to the airport the day before, and Trip and Wren had gone that morning, before I’d left for my exam. They were headed to Florida for a week in her family’s condo on the beach. Christy and I had originally been supposed to fly down with them, but our plans had changed at the last minute. Instead, she’d flown to San Diego to see her best friend from high school, Brooke, while I was going to my parents’ house for a few days before I flew out to join her.

I still had a three-hour drive ahead of me, though, and needed to get moving if I didn’t want to hit Atlanta’s notorious rush hour traffic. It wasn’t Los Angeles, but it was bad enough. So I packed a suitcase and backpack, threw everything in the car, and hit the road.

I made it to my parents’ house without too much hassle. Inside, I dropped my things in the kitchen and ventured into the living room.

“Hi, I’m home! Mom? Dad? Erin?”

“I’m on the phone,” my mom called from the back.

I glanced into my old bedroom, now Erin’s. I’d given it to her for Christmas, and she’d made it her own with posters, awards, and other knickknacks. She was a bit of a neat freak, like me, but the room was unusually clean. I stuck my head into her old room next. Mom had turned it into a combination office and craft room. It was less tidy but just as empty. Finally, I reached the master bedroom at the end of the hall. My mother was sitting cross-legged on the bed. She was talking on the phone, although she smiled and waved hello when she saw me.

“Paul just got home,” she said into the cordless handset, “so I’d better go. Okay, I’ll tell him. I love you too. Have a nice dinner with the crew. Call me in the morning. Bye.” She pushed the button to hang up and collapsed the antenna. “Sorry about that,” she said. “Your dad had a reverse seniority trip, so he’s in Fort Wayne tonight. Shreveport tomorrow night.”

“Oh. That sucks. I mean, good for him and all, but I was looking forward to seeing him.”

“He’ll be home Friday. What time’re you leaving Saturday?”

“Nine in the morning. My flight leaves a little before eleven.” I could fly standby for free—a perk of being a pilot’s kid—but I tried to avoid stops and layovers, where I might get bumped by a paying passenger. I also had a dress code and code of conduct, so it wasn’t as carefree as most people thought.

Mom’s face fell, but she knew the realities of flying standby as well as I did.

“Sorry,” I said. “If I leave later I’ll have a couple of stops or a four-hour layover in Dallas. Not the worst place to spend a few hours, but still a thousand miles from anywhere I want to be.”

“I understand.”

I nodded toward the front of the house. “Where’s Erin? I thought she was staying home for spring break. Her car’s in the driveway, but she isn’t here.”

“She’s in Florida with Leah and friends.”

“Oh? She decide to spend some money after all?”

“No, your dad and I paid for it. She’s doing well in school and we’ve been getting along better, so…”

My eyebrows rose.

“We thought she deserved a vacation. It’s her senior year. She’s actually turning into a responsible adult. What can I say?” she added with a shrug. “Maybe we raised her right after all.”

“Yeah, after you made all those mistakes with me!” I laughed.

Mom rolled her eyes and stood. She wore a simple V-neck sweater and jeans, although she made them seem comfortable and attractive at the same time. She wasn’t a Playmate or anything, but she didn’t look forty-two either. And I privately admitted that she might’ve been the reason I was dating a blue-eyed blonde myself. Christy wasn’t a carbon copy, but they had enough in common to make me wonder about the old cliché that men marry women like their mothers.

“It’s great to see you,” she said as we hugged. Then she held me at arm’s length.

I couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were hard. They cast little shadows in the soft light from above, but I tried to ignore them.

“You look good,” she said.

“Thanks. You too.”

“You aren’t eating enough, though. Christy still doesn’t cook?”

“Don’t start, Mom. She cooks. Just not very often. Besides, we live with a semi-professional chef, so Wren does most of the cooking in the house.”

“Yes, but you do it when it’s Christy’s and your turn.”

“We do it together. I just do the planning. She’s a really good cook, Mom, I promise. And I’m eating enough. Too much, if you ask me, since I’m always making snacks for her, and I usually end up eating too.” Her metabolism was twice a normal person’s, and she had to eat five or six times a day or she’d lose weight. She struggled to maintain even a hundred pounds, so losing weight was officially a Bad Thing for her.

“But if it’ll make you happy,” I continued, “I’ll eat a snack. I skipped lunch anyway. I was trying to get here before rush hour.”

“We have milk and cookies.” She grinned and headed toward the kitchen.

I discreetly admired her figure as I followed her. My friends in high school had thought she was hot, and I had to agree with them. I smiled to myself at how they would’ve reacted if they’d known she was a nudist and swinger too. I hadn’t known about the latter until I was fifteen, but I’d had a thorough education since then.

“The cookies are in the pantry,” she said. “I’ll pour the milk.”

“Whoa, hold on. Cookies and milk? I didn’t think you were serious. Mom, I’m not in kindergarten.”

“Neither am I, but I like them. I can’t eat them very often, but I thought since you’re here…” She shrugged when I didn’t take the bait. “That’s all right. It’s getting harder to keep weight off anyway. I even bought one of those aerobics workout tapes.”

“Not Jane Fonda,” I said immediately.

“Are you kidding? Your father would divorce me!”

Anything to do with Jane Fonda had been banned from our house since 1972, the year she’d gone on her “aid and comfort” tour of North Vietnam. She’d taken chummy pictures with an antiaircraft gun crew, the same nice folks who’d done their best to kill men like my father and who’d succeeded with many of his friends. I was nine years old at the time and vividly remembered his cold fury. He wouldn’t divorce my mom for real, especially over something as trivial as a workout video, but “Hanoi Jane” was still persona non grata with us.

I changed the subject. “How ’bout an apple instead? Do we have any peanut butter?”

“Are you still on a health kick? Is that Christy’s idea?”

“Mom! Relax about her. I’m just trying to eat healthier.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m fixated about her.” She opened the pantry and scanned it. “How about graham crackers and peanut butter?”

“Perfect!”

We made our snack in silence and then I took the plates to the kitchen table. Mom poured two glasses of milk and brought them as well.

“Not quite milk and cookies,” I said, “but close enough.”

“And much better for my figure.”

I rolled my eyes. “Your figure looks fine, Mom. Better than fine.”

“Your dad teases me sometimes, says I’m getting pudgy. I know he’s kidding, but still…”

“Don’t worry, you’re still a hot mom.”

Her eyebrows went up.

“That’s what all my friends used to call you.”

“Used to,” she echoed.

“Nonsense. My friends now think you’re hot.”

“And you? What do you think?”

“Are you kidding?” I said in surprise. I couldn’t tell her what I really thought—that I sometimes fantasized about her when I jerked off—but I said, “You’re the most beautiful mom in the world. I hope I’m half as lucky as Dad when I’m his age.”

“Now you’re just trying to flatter me.”

“Duh. But you asked for it. Still, I’m serious.”

“Thank you, honey.”

“What got you thinking about your looks?”

“I realized last week that we’re going to have an empty nest soon. My mother said she’d never felt old until the day I moved out. And now I’m about to face the same thing.”

“I thought you liked having your own space and time to do what you want.”

“The grass is always greener,” she said. “Besides, I get lonely sometimes without you and Erin here.”

“Well, I’m here now, so you aren’t lonely.”

She smiled and shifted gears. “Which reminds me… I hope you don’t mind, but it’s supposed to be sunny and warm tomorrow. Do you think you could help me in the yard?”

“Of course! I didn’t pack any work clothes, though. Only running clothes and everyday stuff.”

“Your dad probably has something you can borrow.”

“Cool. I figured. Thanks.”

“And… um… one other thing. Your bathroom is full of houseplants. Sorry.”

I laughed, more amused than annoyed.

“I’m in the middle of repotting them. I thought I’d have them done before you got home, but then your dad had this trip come up. So I… sort of forgot.”

“It’s okay.”

“You can still use the toilet and sink, but the tub is full, so you’ll have to shower in the master bathroom.”

“That’s fine.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Besides, your shower’s bigger, so I’ll have more room.”

She laughed. “In case you want to dance?”

“Exactly!”

She smiled and rolled her eyes. Then she gathered our dishes and took them to the sink. “Anything special you want to do tonight?”

“I dunno. Read? Watch TV? I don’t really care. As long as I don’t have to build a model or do a project write-up, I’m cool with just about anything.”

“No models, no write-ups,” she agreed with a smile. “I promise.”

I called Christy’s parents’ house before dinner. Her mother answered and told me she was staying with Brooke instead. I wrote down the number, said thank you, and called her next. I introduced myself and asked to speak to Christy.

“Oh, hey!” Brooke said. “Nice to meet you. Sort of.”

“Nice to meet you too.”

“Christy’s told me a ton about you. I can’t wait to meet you for real. Oh, and about that… Thanks for letting her come out. I know you had plans and all.”

“Nah. It’s all right. You’re more important.”

“Tell that to Fletcher,” she said, a touch bitterly. “No, don’t. He’s a loser anyway.”

“That’s the spirit.”

“Thanks. But hey, I’d better let you talk to Christy before she hurts herself bouncing up and down. Nice talking to you. Here she is.”

“Hello, Mr. Awesome,” Christy said when she came on the line. “Brooke just rolled her eyes. She says I make her sick talking about you.”

“Gag me with a spoon!” Brooke teased from the background.

“Well, it sounds like she’s doing better,” I said.

“She is. We’re having fun. I hope you don’t mind that I’m staying here instead of my parents’.”

“I don’t mind at all. I’m the one who told you to spend some time with her, remember?”

“I remember. I also remember the other thing I promised you.”

Brooke shouted, “Just do it already!”

“Oh my gosh,” Christy said, “she’s as bad as you-know-who.” She covered the phone, but I could still hear when she told Brooke, “Be nice. You know how I am.” She slid her palm off the mouthpiece and said to me, “Sorry about that. Anyway, where was I?”

“Spending the night with Brooke.”

“Yeah, probably till you get here. Is that all right?”

“It’s fine. Have fun. But not too much.”

“Oh my gosh, Paul! Her parents are out of town, so we have the house to ourselves.”

“Totally gnarly,” Brooke yelled. “Party all the time!”

“We aren’t really,” Christy assured me. “But… um… I’ll probably have lots to tell you when you get here. I’ve been working on my tan—”

“Naked!” Brooke added.

“Oh my gosh, will you behave?” Christy said to her. Then to me, “Yeah, while she was in class today. She just got home. That’s why she’s so wild. And… um… speaking of naked—”

“We wanna go to a nude beach!” Brooke shouted.

My eyebrows shot up. “For real?”

“Yeah,” Christy said. “Black’s Beach. It’s right below where her dad works. But we don’t want to go by ourselves—”

“Good idea.”

“—so we’re going to wait till this weekend, when you’re here.”

“Sounds good to me,” I said.

“I kinda told her about you, last night.”

“Pillow talk?”

“Yes, Mr. Understanding.”

“Yeah,” Brooke said from closer to the phone, “thanks for being so understanding. I needed a friendly shoulder to cry on.”

“Oh?” I teased. “Is that what we’re calling it these days?”

“She can’t hear you,” Christy said. “She’s a total spazz. Sorry. And she’s trying to drag me out the door, so I’d better say goodbye. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

“Call me tomorrow?”

“I will.”

We said goodbye and hung up. Then I chuckled. Brooke sounded a lot like Wren, which made sense. Christy’s girlfriends fit a certain type, and I was eager to meet this one.

Mom and I ate leftover pot roast for dinner and then watched The Facts of Life and Night Court. I rarely had time to watch TV at school, so it was nice to relax and enjoy something mindless. We chatted through the commercials, but she abruptly fell silent when St. Elsewhere came on. She had a crush on one of the doctors—she unconsciously moistened her lips whenever he was onscreen—and I could imagine what she must have been thinking.

When the show ended she asked me, “How come you never thought about becoming a doctor?”

Oh? I thought whimsically. Do you wanna blow a guy in a lab coat? I hid my amusement and said neutrally, “What do you mean?”

“Well, Gina and Kendall both want to be one. You dated them for a long time. I thought they might’ve talked you into it.”

“No. They never tried. Besides, I like architecture too much.”

“What about Christy?”

“What about her?”

“Does she support you?”

“Of course! She understands what it’s like. More than Gina or Kendall ever did, I think. It wasn’t their fault, though. They weren’t artists. And they never understood why I want to create things. I have this… urge. I know that sounds weird, but I want to make things beautiful.”

“Sounds very… New Age.” Mom didn’t mean it as an insult, but it came out that way. To her, “New Age” meant dirty hippies, lazy malcontents, or idle dreamers.

“It isn’t,” I said with a laugh. “I mean it literally, not figuratively. Too many buildings are ugly, purely utilitarian. They don’t have to be. They can be functional and beautiful. That’s what I want to do, and Christy understands that. She even helps with my designs.”

“How? She’s an artist, right? Not an architect?”

“What do you think architecture is, Mom? It’s art you live in, work in, relax in. It’s proportion and symmetry, color and space, mood and texture. It’s the same things art is, except it’s three-dimensional. Although… when it comes to that, Christy’s art is three-dimensional too. I think that’s why we both see things so clearly, especially about each other. Her art and mine go hand in hand.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“Neither did Gina or Kendall.”

“Ah. Now I get it.”

“Right. Christy and I connect on an artistic level too.”

She paused and chose her next words carefully. “So you connect on other levels?”

“How do you mean?”

“Well, I know you’re getting serious with her.”

“Very.”

“But… how much does she know about your lifestyle?”

“Our lifestyle, you mean?”

“Mine and your father’s?”

“All of us,” I laughed. “Erin and I are swingers too. She has Leah and Mark. Others too, probably. I have Christy, Wren, and Trip.”

“So you and Christy…?”

I immediately shook my head. “Not yet. Trip and Wren are definitely in the lifestyle, though.”

“That’s what Susan said.”

“But not Christy. Not yet. She’s coming around, even though… it’s been slow.”

“Still, she knows about it?”

“She does. She figured out most of it and I confirmed the rest.”

“Seriously?” Mom said, surprised. “She seems like such a Catholic schoolgirl.”

“It’s an act. And please don’t call her that. It really bugs her. She didn’t have much choice in the matter, but she actually liked being a Catholic schoolgirl.”

“So, how do you go from being a you-know-what to a swinger? Your dad and I started when it was fashionable, the Swinging Sixties,” she said with a laugh. Then she grew serious. “But these days it seems like Christy’s kind of people are taking over.”

My eyes narrowed automatically. “What do you mean?”

“Oral Roberts. Jerry Falwell. The Moral Majority.”

“Christy isn’t like them at all. Neither are her parents. They’re nice people.”

“But very… religious.”

“Mom, they didn’t try to convert me or anything. Religious people come in lots of varieties. Sure, there are televangelists and prigs like Falwell on one end, but people like Christy and her family are more in the middle.”

“With people like us at the other end of the spectrum?”

“We aren’t lepers!” I laughed.

“Sometimes it feels like it.” She wasn’t usually a sour person—my own general optimism came from her, after all—but she brooded about it for a moment. (My occasional moodiness came from her as well, but I digress.) She eventually took a deep breath and visibly relaxed. “You’ve changed so much lately.”

“Healthy living,” I said in an attempt to lighten the mood.

“That isn’t what I mean. You’ve grown up.”

I gave her my usual smart aleck reply, “Had to happen sooner or later.”

“Will you be serious for a minute.”

“About what?”

“You. Your life. Me. Mine.”

I suddenly grew concerned. “What’s the matter? Everything okay?”

“Yes, but I’m trying to have a serious conversation, and you keep trying to lighten the mood.”

“Okay,” I said slowly. “But for a while there it seemed like you were trying to darken it.”

“I guess I was,” she admitted. “I’m just… wondering where you think things are going with you and Christy.”

“And that put you in a dark mood?”

“No!” She stopped and thought about it. “Okay, maybe a little.”

“Why?”

“I guess I’m feeling old lately. Erin’s growing up and headed to college. You’re growing up and in a serious relationship, maybe an official one.”

“Don’t worry, we’re still a long way from the altar.”

“I know. But it sounds like that’s where you’re headed.”

“I think so.”

She nodded.

“That doesn’t make you old, though.”

“Tell that to my gray hairs.”

I laughed. “Mom, you’re more beautiful now than ever.”

She forced a smile.

“Seriously. Besides, guys are looking at… um… other things. Not gray hairs.”

“Well, I notice them.”

“You’re too critical,” I said, although I laughed at a sudden memory.

“What?”

“Christy, a couple of weeks ago. She was doing her nightly lotions and potions when she stopped and stared at herself in the mirror. She actually lifted her breasts to see how much they sagged.”

Mom’s eyebrows rose.

“Yeah,” I said aloud. “She’s twenty.”

“And a B-cup.”

“A firm B-cup at that. But still, she worries about her looks too. So I understand why you do. I guess most women do it. I mean, it’s a double standard. Society says men get more handsome as we get older. While women—”

“Turn haggard and gray.”

“Oh, please!” I rolled my eyes for effect. “You’re a beautiful woman, still in your prime.”

“Middle-aged prime.”

“I’d do you,” I said before I realized it. All of a sudden my cheeks flushed and I wanted to crawl into a hole.

“Oh, Paul!” she laughed. “You should see your face.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Make fun of me for a moment of weakness.”

“Thank you, honey,” she said, although her eyes still crinkled with laughter. “That’s very kind of you. But we have rules about that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Besides, you’re in a serious relationship now.”

“I know, but…”

“But…? It isn’t that serious?”

“Oh, it’s serious all right. And I think Christy will eventually be a swinger, but…”

She waited while I gathered my thoughts.

“I guess I’m a little frustrated. We still haven’t gone all the way.”

Her eyebrows flew up. “But… you live together. She moved in with you, right? So you sleep together every night.”

“She did and we do. But we still haven’t had sex.”

“Why not?”

“Long story. The short version is…” I took a deep breath and sighed. “She doesn’t have a lot of experience. Although… that isn’t true. She has experience, but not with sex. Well, not with intercourse. In other ways she’s pretty open-minded and even more open to… um… ‘experimentation.’”

Mom’s eyebrows rose again. “Which means…?”

“She’s pretty wild. In bed. Not swing-from-the-rafters wild, but a lot wilder than I originally gave her credit for. She and I… like a lot of the same things.”

“I think I understand.” She knew me a lot better than most mothers knew their sons. Not only from Susan—her best friend and my first lover—but also from personal experience.

“Right,” I agreed. “She really enjoys giving head.”

“And you enjoy receiving it.”

“Duh. Who doesn’t? But it’s more than that.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. She understands some of my other… um… kinks.”

“We aren’t talking about swinging, are we?”

“No. A bit more… taboo.”

She knew the code word too.

I almost chuckled that neither of us would say “incest” aloud, but we both knew what we were talking about.

“And she’s okay with it?”

“Yeah, I know,” I said in disbelief. “It blew me away.” I let my words hang in the air. “This friend, Brooke—”

“The one she’s seeing in San Diego? Whose boyfriend broke up with her?”

“Right, her. She opened Christy’s eyes quite a bit, back in high school. They used to read letters in Penthouse Variations and talk about their own fantasies. Christy never admitted to hers, but Brooke did.”

“And they’re more than just friends?”

“Exactly. So I couldn’t really say no when Brooke asked her to come spend time with her.” I grimaced. “No matter how much I wanted to.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Christy finally decided she was ready to go all the way. Then Brooke called and messed things up. I shouldn’t say ‘messed up,’ but you know what I mean. I’ve been waiting patiently for months. Sure, we do other things, but not sex. Real sex, I mean, penis in vagina.” I took a deep breath and tried to relax. “Anyway, that’s why I’m here for a couple of days. And while Christy is ‘comforting’ her friend, I was hoping for a little attention myself.”

“Oh?”

I nodded. “I thought I’d give Leah a call, but I just realized I’m probably out of luck.”

“You are. She’s with Erin at the beach. But… Christy would be okay with that?”

“Believe it or not, yeah. We talked about it before we left. She sort of asked permission to fool around with Brooke.”

“And you gave it to her, of course.”

“More like I told her she didn’t need my permission. But still… I asked about Leah and me.”

“So Christy knows about your past? With Leah?”

“Knows and gets hot talking about it. She has a thing for exotic brunettes.”

Mom chuckled. “She really is more open-minded than I gave her credit for.”

“Mmm hmm. And it’s only a matter of time before she becomes a swinger too. She just has to get used to the idea of doing it herself.”

“In the meantime she doesn’t have a problem with you fooling around with someone else?”

“We’ll see. This is the first time it’s ever come up. But yeah, we talked about it, which was why I was looking forward to seeing Leah.”

“And then we messed things up when we paid for Erin’s trip.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said with an edge of sarcasm.

She laughed, unconcerned. “You’ll just have to find someone else to fool around with.”

“Yeah, Rosy Palm,” I muttered.

“Oh, you poor thing.”

I looked at my watch and decided to take my pity party to bed. “It’s late,” I said as I stood, “and we have a full day tomorrow.”

Her expression fell at my sudden departure, although she recovered quickly. “You’re right,” she said. “We should probably go to bed.”

I bent to kiss her cheek. “G’night, Mom. See you in the morning.”

“See you in the morning,” she echoed. Then she grinned. “Don’t let Rosy wear you out.”

I woke up early the next morning and dressed in running clothes. I quietly let myself out the back door and began stretching on the patio. The morning was cold and damp, so I was glad I’d brought a windbreaker and would soon be jogging.

I started an easy pace, and the miles fell behind me as I toured my old neighborhood. I passed two of the houses that Trip and I had renovated the summer before. They both looked good, like their new owners were taking care of them, although the rancher needed some yard work. We’d sold it for an exorbitant price to a Yuppie couple who’d won a bidding war. They weren’t the gardening types.

Mom was awake and making coffee when I returned to the house. Her light pink robe showed off her cleavage. I pretended not to notice but did a double-take when I realized how short it was too. She didn’t normally wear clothes when she got up in the morning, but it was just cool enough that she’d put on the robe. Still, she’d chosen something that showed off her assets.

She caught me looking and arched an eyebrow, so I changed the subject.

“When did you start drinking coffee?”

“A couple of years ago. I still can’t drink it black, but I like the caffeine in the morning.” She stirred in cream and sugar and then gestured at a second mug. “Want some?”

“No, but thanks. What do we have for breakfast?”

“What’re you in the mood for? Bacon and eggs?”

I chuckled at the word “bacon”—it was Christy’s safe word—but didn’t explain. “Maybe something healthier,” I said instead. “Fruit? Cereal?”

“We have some grapefruit.”

“Ugh. Anything else. A cantaloupe? A couple of oranges? I know you don’t have apples.”

She gave me an unapologetic eye-roll.

“Sorry. I’m sort of turning into her. Christy, I mean—”

“I knew who you meant.”

“Well, she’s turning into me in many ways, so it balances out.”

“If you say so. She still won’t have sex with you.”

“Don’t remind me,” I grumbled.

“You’re right. I’m sorry. I really like her. I only want you to be happy.”

“I am, Mom. I really am. I’m just frustrated at the moment. Even more ’cause I was hoping to spend some time with Leah.” Or Erin, I thought, but kept it to myself. “Let’s talk about something else.”

“Of course. Breakfast? I think I have a banana and some yogurt. Will that do?”

“Perfect! Thanks. And maybe some toast?”

“I think I can manage that.”

“I’ll help.”

She waved me away. “I can still fix breakfast for my son. Go sit down. I’ll bring it to you.”

We chatted while she worked, and a few minutes later she set a bowl and plate in front of me.

“Do you want me to peel the banana for you?” she teased.

“No, I think I can handle it.”

“So your hand isn’t too sore this morning?”

“Ha! No. Rosy and I called it an early night.” In reality I’d jerked off twice. Not surprisingly, my fantasies had mostly been about Mom, although Erin had made a cameo the second time. I decided to change the subject before Mr. Big got the wrong idea.

“I don’t see how you can eat that,” I said about her own breakfast, coffee and grapefruit, “much less together.”

“I’m watching my girlish figure.”

Her girlish figure looked fine from where I was sitting, but I didn’t say it aloud. We ate breakfast in relative silence until the phone rang. She stood and answered.

“Hello? Oh, hi! How was your night? Good dinner with the crew?” She sat down, crossed her legs, and mouthed, “Your dad.”

“I figured.” I deliberately avoided looking at the triangle formed by her thighs and the fabric of the robe, or how the top had parted enough to reveal the lower curve of one breast. Instead, I distracted myself by clearing dishes.

“Mmm hmm, we did,” she said into the phone. She glanced at me and then pretended to straighten the cloth placemat. “I think so… Well, we’ll see… I know… I am too.” She changed the subject to gardening plans and talked about them for a minute. Then she said, “I’d better let you go. I don’t want to make you late. Give me a call tonight when you get to the hotel. Okay, I love you too. Talk to you then.” She unwound the cord from her finger and returned the handset to the wall.

That was a preview of Best Laid Plans. To read the rest purchase the book.

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