39 comments/ 213447 views/ 272 favorites My Mom, My Secretary By: MaryAnderson My decision to attend college and law school at Arizona State University and not in my native Los Angeles was due to several factors. First among them was my love of the desert. I come by it naturally. Mom, her name is Charlotte but she goes by Charlie, grew up in Kuruman, South Africa, which sits on the edge of the Kalahari desert. She and her parents - her mother, a Peace Corps volunteer, fell in love with and married a significantly older South African rancher - often hiked and camped in the desert. When her father passed away she and her mom, my grandmother, moved back to the United States, settling near family in Southern California. As a child Mom and I had spent many a long weekend in the nearby California deserts. I was also in Arizona because I wanted out of Dad's shadow. Dad was a successful transactional lawyer. He was not considered the city's best - a fact that rankled him - but regularly appeared on those ubiquitous best lawyer lists. He could also be an asshole. My decision to leave was regularly confirmed during my trips home during my college years. Dad, never known for his amiability, grew increasingly cranky, often targeting Mom and her career as a legal secretary for his vitriol. While he said he could see her working if her job was something important like a doctor, he asserted that the wife of a high powered attorney like him should not be working as a secretary. People assumed that is how they met, the familiar story of a lawyer hitting on the help. Their history was a bit more sordid; I suspected part of Dad's objection to her career was a desire to bury this part of his past. Mom had not met Dad when working as a secretary, she had been a sixteen year old court runner - making hand deliveries around town - for his firm, filling in for the summer for a staff member who just had a baby. She had dreams, after a career as a professional dancer, of becoming a lawyer. Instead she found herself pregnant with a child - yep, that's me - of a lawyer twice her age. There was a scandal which Dad made right by marrying her, but neither of my parents ever talked about it. I had pieced the story together from the accounts of various relatives. When I confronted Mom about it on one of our desert hikes, she confirmed its truth and filled in the blanks. It was my first year of law school when the world blew up. Dad had a stroke. The doctor opined that his increasing irritability of the past few years may have been due to undetected mini-strokes; Dad had refused to see a doctor. Mom quit her job to provide full time care. When I went home at the end of the year I found her exhausted. Dad's negative personality had only grown worse, he had become an angry abusive man. He refused to go into a full time care facility and refused to allow live-in help, considering his decision to tolerate daily visits by a nurse a sufficient concession to Mom. I suggested sitting out of law school for a year and moving to Los Angeles to help, but Mom nixed the idea. Dad, however, only became worse and despite my frequent trips home during my second year at school Mom often looked like she could bear no more. I was looking into transferring to a local law school when Mom made a suggestion. She and Dad would move to Tempe, where I could help out. It would also allow her to return to the desert and away from Los Angeles, a place she had never fallen in love with. There were, she suggested, few things more rejuvenating for her then the chance escape for long walks in Arizona's barren rock landscape. I had done well school. While mentioning law around Dad was impossible, it sent him into either a snarling rage or a deep depression, I found in Mom a depth of knowledge about the law that was surprising and immensely helpful. One day, after the move, while Dad was with the part time nurse and she and I were hiking in the Superstition Mountains, I asked her if she'd considered going to law school. "I thought about it. When you were six I enrolled part-time at UCLA, but I was trying to balance being a Mom and helping your Dad's career; we did a lot of client entertainment and his firm made many demands on spouses. And the truth is I felt out of place at the school. I was a 23 years old with a child and driving a Mercedes surrounded by 18 year olds discussing beer pong. I also wanted more children but if I had, balancing that with going to college and law school part-time, well I wouldn't have gotten done to my mid-thirties." I didn't venture into why she didn't have more children. As a child I had often asked Mom about some brothers and sisters, but she always effortlessly changed the subject. Then, once, I asked Dad. There was a nasty fight that night; it was one of the few times I heard Mom lose her temper. Dad accused Mom of putting me up to ask the question - she hadn't - and was categorical that he wanted no more children. Mom shot back, her voice steely and cold, then he should stop complaining about her career choice. She was not simply going to sit at home all day and she wasn't joining the Junior League. The temperature in the house was sub-zero for a week. Mom continued, returning me to the present. "And there was something else, I saw how nasty the law could be, the constant fighting, the dishonesty, the cut-throat competition. It was not how I wanted to spend my life. So once you hit fourth grade I took a job as a legal secretary. I figured if I got lucky enough to get pregnant again it would be a career easy to take a break form. Happily, it's something I turned out to love." That I recalled clearly. Growing up Mom would come home from work with a happy smile and a story of a kindness someone had showed her at the office. Dad would drag in several hours later, complaining about this asshole or that shithead, and start on the scotch, sometimes needling Mom about her job. "Your Dad didn't like it, he thought that I should devote myself full-time to his career, but I needed something of my own. And I was still a pretty good hostess." That I also recalled. Dad's clients were constant visitors. Sometime in my teens it became clear to me that Mom was the far more gracious and charming of the pair. She was their social motor, the one that got them out, who smoothed his hard and all too often caustic edges. People respected Dad's skills, they wanted to hang with Mom. They did make an odd couple. Dad was rough around the edges with a tendency to say the wrong thing. Mom was cool and graceful, always in control. Unless Mom was dressing him his clothes were be rumpled and mismatched. Mom made whatever she wore, whether an old pair of jeans or an evening gown, look good. Their looks were similarly diverse. Dad was, as noted, sixteen years older than Mom and two inches shorter. There were signs that he had at one time been an athlete, he was broad shouldered and stocky, but his devotion to the office was revealed in his body, until his stroke he carried about fifty more pounds than he should. His once dark brown hair was gray and evident only around the fringes of a balding scalp. Mom, on the other hand, was beautiful. As a young teen I, despite a few snickered remarks from friends, denied it, but by the time I was sixteen even I had to admit Mom was striking. Now, at forty years old, she remained slender, very slender, five feet nine inches tall and 121 pounds slender. Slim shoulders and hips, flat belly, flat behind and small breasts. Her hair was a light blonde and although in my youth she was always changing the way she wore it, when she reached her mid-thirties she decided to keep it short. Her symmetrical face was longer than it was wide and featured and penetrating green eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a rounded chin. Her skin, although she sported a few wrinkles, glowed a healthy pink. In light of the fact that she spent so much time outdoors in our exceedingly dry climate I once asked her about it. "Short baths, keep it clean, lots of moisturizer, lots of sun block (the expensive kind), good diet, and drink a lot of water. Why do you ask kiddo? Afraid of looking old before your time?" "No, its just that you're so pretty. I was wondering." A smile of genuine warmth crossed her face. "Why, thank you." But my parents were not wholly unalike. They both had strong personalities. Dad would get his way, however, through bluster and intimidation. Mom's style was to charm, but there was no mistaking her determination. * * * * I spent the summer after my second year of law school clerking at two different law firms. Both firms offered me a job and after some contemplation and discussions with Mom, chose Perkins Joseph . It was the third biggest firm in the state and had a vibrant litigation practice. It also had a reputation for a jock/boy's club atmosphere and my summer there confirmed the rumors. The attorneys were frequent visitors to the staffs' beds. I was tempted, but took Mom's advice - better to keep my nose clean until I had a much better understanding of the office politics. * * * * During my third year of law school Dad's health steadily declined. I was happy they had moved to Arizona; I was able to help Mom and occasionally drag her away for some fun. I graduated in May, worked at Perkins Joseph that, took the bar examination in August, and went out of town with Anita, one of the women I was seeing, for a final vacation before joining the firm full time. When I got back I learned that Dad was in the hospital after a moderate heart attack. He'd survive, but could no longer be cared for at home. Mom had arranged for him to enter a full time medical facility. "Mom, why didn't you call. I could have come home and helped." "I know that kiddo, but I could handle it and this was your last time off before joining the full time work world. I wanted you to enjoy it." * * * * On the first day at work I was greeted by the office manager, Belinda, who introduced to my secretary, a dazzling blonde in her early twenties wearing a dress too skimpy and too tight for an office. Her name was Laura; she was doing her nails and seemed wholly disinterested in my presence. Josh Jayson, a senior associate whom I had gotten to know during the summer, popped his head into my office immediately. "You got plans for lunch," he asked. "No." "Great, I'll come by about noon." At lunch Josh and three other guys gave me a quick rundown of my situation. Laura, it turned out, was sleeping with John Adams, one of the senior partners in the firm's real estate section. She was strictly hands off. Even worse, she was a terrible secretary; she showed up late for work, took two hour lunches, often disappeared for a tryst with Mr. Adams, and in the little time she was in the office performed so poorly that I'd soon learn to stop asking her to do much of anything. She was pawned off on every new class of lawyers that came in. "I hope you know how to type, cause you'll be doing your own work." Happily, I did. The situation bumped along for six months until when one day I heard Laura answer her cell phone. It was another personal call. However, whatever it was it was big news, for she suddenly squealed, hung up the phone repeating over and over again, "Ohmigod, ohmigod, ohmigod." She punched in a new number and said, "Mama, it's finally happened, I'm pregnant, now that son-of-a-bitch will have to marry me." A pause and then, "No, I want to get it confirmed, but once I do I'm outta here, gotta start planning the wedding." Another pause and, "Fuck two weeks notice. Fuck, the rookie already does his own typing." When I related the story to my mother that evening she had a surprising suggestion, that she apply to the firm. "I'm bored; sitting with you father an hour each morning leaves me with a lot of free time. And think, I might get to work with my beautiful son." "I don't know, I don't think they'd let me hire my Mom." "Does the firm have an anti-nepotism policy?" "No, not that I'm aware of, but still..." "Okay, well, it can be our little secret. In any case nothing will probably come of it, but it's a chance to dip my toe back in the water." She was wrong. That evening Mom updated her resume and sent it to our office manager the next morning. Belinda was looking at it when Laura walked in to announce she was quitting. The resume must have seemed like a gift from god. Twelve years experience, Los Angeles legal secretary of the year, and, thankfully, just once, not one of the bimbos the partners would insist she hire once they heard Laura quit. A quick call to Mom's references confirmed the lady was special. Belinda called Mom to ask her to come in for an interview. The two women hit it off immediately and ended up chatting for thirty minutes, during which time Mom mentioned, casually, that if available she'd prefer a younger lawyer. "Really, most experienced secretaries prefer the partners. They think its more prestigious." Mom's response drew a laugh from Belinda. "Not me, I like somebody new, they haven't developed a lot of bad habits and they are so much more grateful for the help. It's my hope to build a long-term relationship with someone, we'll work better together as a team." There was a message on my desk from Belinda when I got back from lunch. I went to her office and she handed me Mom's resume. I had taken Mom's advice when I joined the firm and made it a point to get to know Belinda. Office managers, Mom had told me, were valuable allies. Thus, she spoke to me frankly. "Well, normally, I would simply re-assign another half-competent bimbo to you, but we will need to hire someone new, this woman appears mega-competent, and she just turned 40, which will get the lawyers in this office attention - she's protected by the Age Discrimination in Employment Act and I don't think even our lawyers could explain why we turned her down for a bit-titted blonde fresh out of school. It would be nice to hire someone who knows what's she doing. I've called her in for an interview. If she's half as impressive in person as she is on paper and over the phone, I'll bring her by to meet you." Mom was, of course, Mom; she aced the interview. Belinda dropped her at my office and after I spent fifteen minutes with her, she became my secretary. Mom was a great secretary. I could write pages about it, but I hope you'll just take my word for it. Secretary doesn't begin to describe it; part secretary, part paralegal, part assistant lawyer. My reputation as one of the firm's up and comers was due in large part to her. She also became a leader among the firm's women, not directly standing up to the boy's club atmosphere, that would have been pointless, but presenting herself with such dignity that people behaved themselves in her presence. The women attorney's included her in their social activities, the secretaries rallied around her, and the lawyers treated her with a respect rarely shown the female staff. She organized a volleyball team to play in the lawyer's league. She was the one whose advice was sought out by the younger girls. Almost immediately after she started working Sean Jackson, one of firm's real estate partners, started sniffing around. He invited her to lunch and then asked her for an evening date, but she gently deflected his importunes, leaving him with the impression, but never quite saying, that she thought dating in the office a bad idea. When Sean gave up Felix Cavalier, a trust and estates lawyer, appeared and received the same genial rejection. The next in line was a bit more trouble. John Powell, a partner in the insurance defense section, was used to bulling his way to success; he also took "no," no matter how gracefully conveyed, personally. Mom tried being polite, but he only got more persistent. I volunteered to intervene, but Mom asked me not too. Some of the women lawyers proposed taking the issue to the executive committee, but Mom told them no; she could handle it. Then as now, I got to the office early, usually by 7:00. John Powell was not an early riser. Thus, I was surprised one Monday morning when he stuck his head in my door at 8:15 - staff arrived at 8:30 - and half-said, half-bellowed, "Goddamn man, fuck, why didn't you just fuckin' tell me." "I don't understand. What are you talking about?" "Not a bad policy man, playing dumb. Don't worry I'm not mad, just jealous." He walked out. Mom's morning routine was to spend an hour at the facility sitting with Dad and reading a book- he no longer recognized her or me - and then coming to the office. This morning, as she did every morning, she arrived a few minutes early and asked if she could talk to me. The tone of her voice was serious. I got up to close the door. "It's probably best you not do that." I sat back down. "Okay, what's going on?" "This morning's hot rumor is that you and I are an item. Best I can figure is that someone saw us shopping Saturday." I related my encounter with John Powell. "What are we going to do?" "Well, if we go around denying it people will only assume its true. Deny if asked, but be gentle, like it's a compliment. And think of the good side, its going to get Powell off my back and will probably be good for your reputation." Although I had initially assumed Mom was joking about my reputation, I found I was treated with a new respect around the office. The women lawyers were impressed that instead of chasing the firms' ample supply of babes in their early twenties, I was dating a woman of the maturity, class and intelligence of my mother. The guys, well the more sober minds agreed with the ladies, the rest were impressed that I was nailing the foxy older woman who turned down three partners. Mom and I were careful to avoid public places where we were likely to be seen by anyone with the firm and the interest in us seemed to die down as we became yesterday's news. That was until a Tuesday when I had been out of the office taking a deposition. It ended at 4:30. I was heading home when I got a text from Sam Sanchez, the senior litigation partner and my ultimate boss. He wanted to see me. By the time I arrived the staff was gone and there was only a smattering of lawyers present. Mr. Sanchez was in his office; it was unusual for him to work this late. I sat. "I got a call from Judge Pablo's chambers this morning; the plaintiffs' lawyer in the Amalgamated Cooper case had walked through a motion quash some depositions and the judge needed me there instantly. My secretary was out so on the way out the door I told Bambi," - Bambi was the secretary who sat next to Mom - "to organize the documents I needed and get them over to court. "By the time I got to court it was clear the Judge had made up his mind. It took him about three minutes to grant the motion. Fuckin' asshole. "I got back to the office in a foul mood and saw Bambi still ruffling through my files, still trying to find what I needed. I said a few things to her I shouldn't have. She burst out crying and headed out the door." "About two hours later, after I calmed down, your secretary knocked on my door and asked if she could talk to me. She was very polite, very respectful. She told me she knew there was a lot of pressure on me and that I carried far more than my weight. She also let me know that Bambi's a single Mom, her ex disappeared two year and doesn't pay child support, and her disabled Mom lives with her. In other words Bambi was also carrying more than her share. "She also said she heard me tell Bambi what I wanted in court and that neither she nor Bambi understood what I meant They called my cell for clarification, but I left it in the office. She and Bambi went through my files and when they still couldn't figure out what I wanted, your secretary went to see the associate on the case for help. That's where she was when I got back. My Mom, My Secretary "When she started talking my first impulse was to throw her out of my office, but she is so damn calm and dignified and respectful. There's a gravity to her; she's the kind of woman who expects you to listen to her, the kind you want to like you, whose damn approval seems important. And she's smart, real smart. I realized that if she couldn't figure out what I wanted, well I must not have been clear. By the time she was done talking to me I knew she was right. "I had Belinda call Bambi and get her back to my office, where I apologized. "I asked you here for two reasons. First, I wanted you to hear it from me first. Who knows how this story's going to be garbled as it floats around the firm. Second, there is a rumor about you and your secretary." "I've heard it." "Good boy: never deny, never explain. "Well, here is some unsolicited advice. There is a lot of eager and available twenty-something tail wandering around this place. I've been guilty of dipping into it myself. But your secretary, well she's a keeper. I'd hang on to her if I were you." "Thank you sir, I'll keep that I mind." On the way home I called Mom and asked her to dinner, making reservations at a small neighborhood bistro. The place was near empty, we were only one of two couples there. Over some wine and excellent fish, I listened to her version of events. I then told her of my meeting with Mr. Sanchez. By then we had finished dessert; we had shared a chocolate mousse. Mom reached over and tapped the back of my hand with a finger and then turned it over, straightening my sleeve. "So your Mom's still quite the catch?" And it dawned on me, yes the fuck she was. She went on, "This causes a problem, you know." ""What do you mean?" "Next month is the firm's summer party." The summer party was a serious event. It was for the entire firm, but the partners left after a couple of hours and it quickly degenerated into a bacchanalia for the associates. I would be expected to bring a date. I was casually seeing a couple of different woman, still hanging with Anita but occasionally dating Ann. Both were fully presentable; I hadn't decided who to ask. She saw that I didn't get it. "In light of your conversation with Mr. Sanchez, do you think it would be wise to show up with anyone but me?" "I see your point. Couldn't I just go alone?" "You need to understand what this party is about. The partners tell you it's a blow out for the associates, which it eventually turns into so you guys are convinced that's what it is. However, until they leave the partners are watching and grading you and your dates, deciding who's classy, who's not, who's appropriate, who's a loose cannon, who's partner-worthy. If you show up alone you look like a loser and it won't make anyone think you're not seeing me. A handsome young man like you? If you show up without a date everyone will think your hiding your girlfriend and that's because your girlfriend is me. They won't like you treating me like that." The rest of the evening my brain ran through the permutations, but no solution came to me. So as I walked my Mom to her front door I took her hand in mine and asked her on a date. She leaned into me, kissed me on the cheek, and told me she could not imagine a more wonderful handsome companion. And I looked at her in the moonlight and thought how beautiful she was and how smart she was and how much I enjoyed spending time with her and how I wished I could find a girl like her and then it happened; I wanted her. In the way you're not supposed to want your mother. Standing there like that, she was gorgeous; I wanted her. On the way home I convinced myself it would all pass, but that did not keep me from taking my penis in my hand and, for the first time, masturbating while images of my mother played in my head. At work the next day the gossip was about how Mom had saved Bambi's job by standing up to Mr. Sanchez. When asked about it Mom deflected the attention to Mr. Sanchez, "It's not many men who are big enough to admit they erred and apologize. You've got to give him a lot of credit." The hoopla also refocused the interest in my non-existent romance with Mom as I received kudos for my incredible girlfriend. Over the next few weeks my desire for my mother did not wane. In fact I started, in some oblique way, to date her. I didn't call Ann or Anita to go out, I asked Mom to the movies, to a play, and our desert hikes became a weekly feature. Some evenings I would go over to her house and we would just watch television, sitting on the couch, her leaning against me, my arms around her. * * * * I arrived at Mom's house the night of the party wearing the tuxedo she and I had picked out the week before. I knocked on the door and, when no one answered, let myself in. I could hear Mom in her room getting ready. I started down the hall when I heard her yell, "No, wait until I'm done. I want you to get the full effect." I was sitting at the kitchen table goobing on the computer when I heard her say, "My my, don't you look handsome." I turned to look at her. My god. She was wearing an emerald one-shoulder chiffon cocktail dress that hung just below her knee. It had a thin black belt. Her hair was pulled behind her head, her make-up, as usual, was understated, and she wore long oval silver earrings inset with emeralds. Her fingernails bore a clear polish. She was wearing four inch green spike heels held on by straps that ran around her ankle, around her foot, and up the front of her foot. Her toenails were painted red. She was carrying a small silver purse. She was some other worldly combination of class and sexy. "Well, how do I look kiddo? Will I be a hit?" "Ohmigod, you look incredible. You're stunning." "You don't look too bad yourself son." I walked over to her. In those heels we were about the same height. She put her hand on my chest and kissed me on the cheek. I caught a whiff of her perfume. She smelled like a goddess. I turned and stuck out my arm. Mom placed her hand on it and I escorted her outside, where I opened the car door for her and was rewarded with brief glimpse of her leg as the dress moved up as she sat down. During the ride we engaged in light conversation, but I kept glancing at her, unable to get over how good she looked. When we arrived I got out to open her door while she dug through her purse, found a tube of lipstick, and gave herself a quick touch up. When I opened the door for her Mom stood and placed her hand on my arm. "Better get ready for some ribbing," she said. And I got a lot, the guys both congratulating me and giving me shit about denying that I was dating her. I tried telling the truth, that this was our first date, but no one believed me. Mom mingled effortlessly with the crowd, but always returned to me, entwining her arm with mine, leaning against me, effortlessly invading my space. When she spotted the Sanchezs she took my hand in hers and guided me towards them. Mr. Sanchez shook my hand, kissed Mom on the cheek, and introduced us to his wife. "This is one of our brightest young lawyers. And this is Charlie, the woman I told you about." "So you're the lady who stood up to my husband?" Mom smiled, her face was bright and cheerful. "I'm sure he exaggerates." Mrs. Sanchez took Mom by the arm to introduce her to some of the partners' wives. Mr. Sanchez stayed with me. "She's a beautiful woman. I'm glad to see you two together. A woman like that is a real asset." I told him it was our first date, but he gave that no more credence than anyone else. Our conversation turned to baseball, a sport we both loved. When Mrs. Sanchez ferried Mom back, she turned to her husband. "Sam, Charlie tells me that both she and her young man are baseball fans. I've invited them to join us next Saturday night in the firm's luxury box. The Yankees are in town." He turned to me. "You available?" "Yes sir." "Great, my secretary will get you the details." As the Sanchezs' wandered off Mom placed her hand on my back and leaned over to kiss my cheek. "The Yankees with the partners on a Saturday night. Not bad for a first year associate. You need to show the proper appreciation to your date." "How do I do that?" "Kiss, on the lips, no tongue, but more than a peck." I brought my lips to hers and we kissed, moving our puckered lips against each other. It probably lasted less than a second, but the effect on by body was electric. My stomach did back flips and my penis, already thick with blood, hardened. Trying to calm down, I suggested we get a drink and held her hand on the way to the bar. We sat on some low-slung chairs. Mom ordered a vodka martini, I a beer. When the waitress laid them on the table Mom leaned forward and reached for her drink. I took the opportunity to glance down her dress. She looked up at me with a demure smile. Had she caught me staring? "I'm having a wonderful time. You're a fun date." "I thought this idea was a bit crazy, Mom..." She rubbed her toes against me, temporarily distracting me. "Maybe its time, at least in public, you called me Charlie." "Well Charlie," I drew the word out, it felt strange, but she was right, I couldn't keep calling her Mom, "so am I. I can't recall having this much fun." Amber Owens, one of our senior female associates, and her date, Franco, walked up to the table. "Mind if we join you?" 'No, please sit down," Mom answered for both of us. They sat. "I'm glad to see you two out in the open finally." Then to Mom, "I can't get my boyfriend to stop looking at you." Franco, a big Latino dude, looked sheepish. "So I finally told him we should just sit with you so he could get a decent gander." Mom's smile was pleasant and serene. "A girl does like to be admired." After several minutes Mom announced she needed to stop in the ladies room. As she and Amber walked away I watched Mom's hips rock from side to side. So did Franco. "You're date, she's a fox." "I know man, man do I know." We were soon joined by another couple, but I barely heard the conversation. Mom was driving me crazy. Her long legs, the curves of her hips, the sparkle in her eyes, her smooth skin, it all raced through my mind. She continued rubbing her toe on my leg. I touched her shoulder and took her hand in mine. She looked at it and then up at me through hooded eyes. And it dawned on me, Mom was digging this as much as I was; she enjoyed playing my girlfriend as much as I enjoyed playing her boyfriend. The band came back from a break and started playing again, but its play list had changed, now aimed for a younger crowd. Mom scanned the room and said to the table, "It appears the partners have left," then to the others, "if you'll excuse us," and then to me, "care to dance." I stood and held her hand, she stood up. She was radiant; many eyes followed our progress as we headed to the dance floor. When we got there I kissed her lips and then whispered in her ear. "You look so hot mom. Everyone's been staring at you all night." "Getting jealous?" "Damn straight, you only get to dance with me tonight." As she stepped on the floor; I watched her butt swing back and forth. She stopped, turned around, and I took her in my arms. The floor was crowded and the music upbeat and we danced for several songs, Mom exhibiting the grace that confirmed that once, before I showed up, she had intended to pursue a career as a dancer. Then the band started a slow number. I watched the other dancers pull their dates close, hesitating myself until Mom wrapped her arms around my neck and moved into me. I stepped forward and our bodies met. I pulled her close, resting my hands on her lower back and swaying my hips with hers to the rhythm of the music. Her firm breasts were pressed against my chest; it seemed like I could feel her nipples pushing through the thin fabric. And then it happened, my cock swelled, straining against the front of his pants. It seemed impossible that Mom didn't feel it, but other than to arch her neck and slide her hands down my chest and around my waist she didn't react. She leaned into me and rested her head against my shoulder, closing her eyes, losing herself in the moment. She started to slowly grind her hips into mine. I massaged the small of Mom's back through her dress as we moved to the music. I looked around; no one appeared to be watching and I slid by hands to her butt. Mom was having none of that in public. She ran her hands down my arms, moved my hands off her ass and down her side so I was holding her thighs. I worked her exposed skin with my fingers. Mom let out a little moan into my neck, pulled me into her, and pressed her pelvis against me. She lifted her head from my shoulder and looked into my eyes, opened her mouth, and pressed her lips to mine. I kissed her back. Our tongues connected and sent a shiver through my body. She tasted good. We continued to make out in the middle of the dance floor, our movements slowing down until we were no longer dancing. When the song ended Mom looked at me, her voice shaky, she was panting. "Let's go outside." I followed her out to the porches that surrounded the building, finally finding one that was deserted and dark. She turned to me, held my head with two hands, and kissed me deeply and passionately with what seemed like years of pent-up desire. My hand returned to her leg and when I got no objection I started working up, tracing across the top of her thigh, following her bare skin to the small of her back, pushing her hard to me. Mom pressed into me, her tongue playing wildly in my mouth. There could be no doubt that she knew how hard I was and when my fingers started walking down her ass, she spread her legs, inviting me to go further. My hand glided across the curve of her ass, snaking under her tiny silk panties, and moved between her legs, gently brushing her wet pussy. Its lips were puffy and swollen; Mom was as aroused as I. "Unnnggghhh..." she moaned into my mouth as I began to finger her pussy from behind. My other hand moved up the side of her body until it was cupping a breast thought her dress. Her breathing was becoming rapid and she bit my lower lip when I pushed my finger further inside her. I had her pinned against the wall and when I looked in her face I saw raw lust and desire staring back at me. She again pulled my mouth to hers. I pressed my lips against hers and pushed my tongue deep into her mouth. I slid my hand under her neckline, kneading and massaging a breast. I pulled the other hand from between her legs and slid it down the front of her body, pressing my fingers against her dripping pussy. I rubbed the juices over her sex and slid a single finger deep inside her, eliciting a moan, then another. Mom's body was writhing. I took a nipple between two fingers and squeezed it while pushed another finger inside her. Mom's breathing increased, she gasped, and then she exploded. Her knees weakened and she squeezed her thighs against my hand as I massaged her through her orgasm. She tried to stifle her scream, "OH GOD SEAN!!", in my neck. I continued to rub my mother's swollen pussy while her body shuddered in my arms. Her sex contracted around my fingers; her juice drenched my hand. Finally, as her orgasm faded, she whispered, "I think it's time you took me home." I pulled my fingers from her pussy. She took my hand in hers and brought it to her mouth, sucking the fingers into her mouth and licking the juices. She took my hand in her and led me to the parking lot, where I opened the door for her. She glanced around and then with one foot in the car and the other still on the pavement, pushed her knees apart and pulled the front of her dress open. It was the first time I saw my mother's sex. She drew a finger across it and then brought her other leg into the car. I closed the door and dashed around the car and jumped in. As I backed out of my parking spot Mom reached over and unzipped my pants, pulling my erection free. By the time we were on the street I felt my mother's warm breath followed by her wet mouth wrapping around the tip of my cock, furiously licking the head. By the time I was pulling onto the interstate her head was bobbing up and down. Her raunchy groan registered her pleasure at what she was doing. I kept glancing at mom's head in my lap; it was a struggle to keep the car on the road. Her mouth-grip was tight, then loose and wet, the contrast heavenly. I started to jerk my hips, shoving my pleasure-aching cock to the back of her mouth. Mom cupped my testicles, signaling her approval as I fed her mouthfuls of my dick. Still, even though I was pushing hard into her mouth, she continued to expertly nibble on my dick, her tongue licking it in quick divine assaults. Goosebumps erupted on my skin. Mom groaned, feeding my excitement. As I pulled into her driveway Mom squeezed my balls one last time. That was it. I thrust hard into her mouth, bellowed, "OOOOHHHHH GGGGOOOOOODDDDD!!" and came, filling her mouth with my cum. We hurried into the house, leaving a trail of clothes behind us on the way to the bedroom. There I fell into her arms and we both started laughing. Finally Mom said, "I can't believe what just happened." Naked, we kissed and cuddled, falling asleep in each other's arms. When I woke the next morning I felt Mom's warm body next to mine and said, in a low voice, "I love you." She, it turned out, was awake. She rolled over, smiled, and stroked my face, "I love you too son." We spent the day in bed, rotating among long make-out sessions, serious conversation, holding and touching, and using our hands and mouths on each other. Mom was clear on one thing, no intercourse. "I'm still married to your father." My life was extraordinary. I spent the day working with the woman I loved and the evenings in her arms. She was a voracious and talented lover and I was more than happy to try to make up for her years of frustration with Dad. Yet, somehow, she remained a devoted wife; her daily trips to the medical facility to sit next to a man who no longer had any idea who she was a constant topic of conversation among the nursing staff. When, ten months later, Dad passed away, Mom had his body cremated. She wanted to release his ashes on a trail overlooking the Pacific on which they used to walk. It was the place she had been happiest with him, when he seemed able for a moment to let slip from his mind the burdens of his job and the resentments that so defined his personality. As his ashes disappeared Mom leaned into me and kissed me. "You two were alike, both smart and hard working, but he let his anger rule him. His unhappy temperament was like a cage; he could never get out of it; he felt that other people, me most of all, put him there. It never seemed to occur to him that he made his own unhappiness." I was not quite as nostalgic. "Mom, I mean no disrespect, but it is hard for me to understand a man who had you as a wife and did not celebrate that fact every moment of every day." She turned to kiss me again, but stopped, studying the serious look on my face. I reached into a pocket, took out a box, and opened it. There was an antique diamond ring inside. She squealed in delight, recognizing it instantly. "Its from that shop in Scottsdale." She picked it up and looked at it. "My god, its beautiful." We had been shopping there some months ago and she had fallen in love with the ring, but decided not to buy. It was way too expensive. After we left I called the store and had it set aside. I bought it the next day. "Will you marry me." She held the ring up. "Marry you? I'm your mother, we can't marry. Can we?" "Well, if its challenged, it won't stand up, but who's going to challenge it? I did some investigation, there are almost no controls on those Las Vegas wedding chapels. No one is double-checking anything. We can be married there." My Mom, My Secretary She said, drawing out the first word, "Well, you are the love of my life." With that my eyes turned towards the urn that had held my father's ashes. Despite Mom's endless praise of me, he had been first and I still wondered how I compared to him, but had said nothing. I didn't want to look insecure. My mother caught my glance and understood its meaning. "Comparing yourself to your father?" "Yeah, he was such a good lawyer, I wonder if I'll ever be as good as he was." "You are such a man. You think I judge him and you based on how successful you are as lawyers. Dear, there is no comparison between the two of you. I loved your Dad and I think he did his best to love me, but there was always some lingering resentment. He thought I got pregnant on purpose to trap him. His dream had been to rise to the top of society, be the best lawyer, marry into old money, hob-nob with the world's elite. He blamed me for that not happening." That statement was absurd, growing up I suspected and now as a practicing lawyer I knew that whatever success he had in society was due to Mom, if not for her he'd have never left the office. I told Mom that. Mom smiled and lay her head on my shoulder. "I know." And then, looking out at the ocean, she continued. "Sean, I love you with a passion that I never felt for your father. I don't love you because you're a fine young lawyer with bushels of talent and potential, I love you because when you call me on the phone you can tell how I'm feeling and how my day went by the way I say hello. I love you because when I walk into a room where you are, no matter where, there is always this moment, sometimes short, sometimes long, when you look at me, you focus totally on me, walk up to me, touch me, maybe hold my hand, maybe kiss my cheek, and say something nice, that I look good or that you're happy to see me. Every time you do that I know for that moment that I'm the most important thing in the world to you. "I love you because once a month you send me flowers for no reason. I love you because you open car doors for me. I love you because you never tell me what to do or what to wear. I love you because when I ask you to go shopping with me you do so and then say you enjoy if." "I do enjoy it." "See what I mean. And I love you because your damn good in bed, the sweetest most attentive lover a girl could ever want." "So will I marry you?" She slipped the ring onto her finger and held it up before the setting sun. "Well I can't just give this away, can I? Of course I'll marry you " I had to be back at work in two days. We drove to Las Vegas that night, Mom's hand in mine, as I rested a finger on the ring I'd just given her. "I guess I could have planned better, we'll need to postpone the honeymoon." "Well dear, we have a day and there is something I've always wanted to do: hike across the Grand Canyon. There are services that will drive your car around it. If we got there tomorrow afternoon we could spend the night down there, pick up the car the next day, and be back in time for work. It can be a preliminary honeymoon." While I made the arrangements for the wedding with the chapel I selected, Mom did so for the hike. We were married at 10:00 A.M. and were leaving the Canyon's north rim at 2:30. That night we wandered far enough off the trail to guarantee privacy and I took my wife in my arms. Hungry mouths explored each other; eager hands toured each other's body. I knew it had been years since Mom had last had intercourse so I settled her on her back and used my mouth on her until she was soaking wet and her pubes swollen with need. Then Mom said, "I want you inside me." I straddled her. "I brought a condom." Mom laughed. "Well, you always wanted a brother and sister and I always wanted more kids. I'm 41, if we are going to make this happen we better get started right away." I entered her slowly, incrementally. She was tight and I was careful and when I was all the way in I rolled my hips against hers, trapping her clit between us. I dragged my staff along the top of her channel and was rewarded with a low moan when I found her g-spot. There under the brilliant night sky, her breathe deep and slow, her skin flushed, her heart beat accelerating, I made love to my mother. I kissed her sweet lips until her head dropped away and her grip on my arm tightened and she came, moaning in a low preternatural way, her body shaking and quivering under mine. I told her how much I loved her and kissed her perfect face and when she was ready I started again, this time moving my cock around inside as she began to loosen up and accommodate me. "Oh darling, it's so good, never been this good, I love you my husband-son, I love you forever," and then the words turned into sharp moans, "uunnnnnhhh, unnhhhuuuuhhh, uuunnnnnhhhhhhhhhh, and then her body tightened and she dug her nails into my back and shook underneath me through another long sweet orgasm. I let her recover, telling her how much I loved her, that I'd never let her go, and started again. This time her movements were stronger; she started pushing her hips up and down. I matched her, starting to thrust in and out, but still trying to be gentle. I felt the cum churning in my balls but thought I could hold off my orgasm one more time and then Mom pulled my head to hers and whispered in my ear,. "Oh son, I love you, I need you to come inside me, give me your seed, let's make a baby, you and I. Fuck me, fuck your mother-wife." I had no chance. I started thrusting harder. She moved with me. Her voice was emphatic. "OH SEAN!! FUCK ME!!" And I did, increasing the power and length of my movements. "OH YES, DON'T STOP, DON'T' EVER STOP." Writhing against me, she wrapped her legs around my waist. Our skin slapped together; the sound and rhythm of our lovemaking disappearing into the desert night. "OH GOD, YES, FUCK ME, I LOVE YOU SON, I LOVE YOU, I WANT YOU, LET'S MAKE A BABY, OH GOD YES, I'M CUMMING" She came and I kept going. Her sex tightly gripped my hard cock and pulsated as the waves of her orgasm washed over her. My cock stiffened inside her hot cunt, then throbbed, then erupted. Her pussy contracted and I hollered, "OOOOHHHHH GGGGOOOOOODDDDD!!" as I released streams of cum into her, flooding her womb, deluging the place where I had been conceived, and held her tight until I was sure I had emptied myself completely. I then rolled off her and held her hand, looking at the stars. "Oh gosh, was that worth waiting for." * * * * When the baby bump appeared three months later I'd wake in the middle of the night and gently touch it, imagining that our child was conceived that first night in the Grand Canyon. No way of knowing, but still I like to think so. Mom took the three month maternity leave offered by the firm and then I, the first guy in the history of Perkins Joseph to do so, did the same. Not that both of us didn't keep working, but those months at home with my daughter are irreplaceable. When she announced her pregnancy the firm took a step Mom had been advocating since she got there; it decided to provide a child care facility at the office. Mom was appointed to the responsible committee and true to her prediction, the firm soon benefitted from fewer missed employee work days and a steady stream of resumes from talented staff seeking employment with our enlightened firm. Fourteen months after our daughter was born we were blessed with twin boys. I love them; I love my wife; I am the luckiest man I know.