“Thanks for calling, Andrew,” Kate told her accountant. “I'll get this paperwork to you next week. Bye!” Hanging up, she took a moment to gather herself before backing the car out of the parking space. She had finished picking up some groceries when Andrew called. Rather than talk and drive, Kate had decided to finish the conversation in the parking lot before continuing home.

She hummed cheerfully to herself, despite being stuck in traffic and despite her long morning at the hospital. Her wipers squeaked as they pushed away the thin layer of snow coating her windshield. It was a cold January day, the kind where the sun never seemed to come out and the grayness concealed the gently falling snowflakes. There was just enough accumulation to cover the existing layer of dirty snow on ground. Kate took a moment to appreciate the pristine, white scenery that lay beyond her car.

The holiday season had passed in a busy whirlwind. The thought of her first Christmas as a single mom had initially made her sad. But now that it was over, she realized that it hadn't been terrible after all. Jeremy seemed happy enough, which was the most important thing. His grades at school were unaffected. He maintained the same social chirpiness with his circle of friends. Certainly, there had been some moodiness during the summer, but Kate had been relieved to see him quickly stabilize into the new situation.

It helped, of course, that she had the best nanny in the world. Kate smiled to herself while waiting for a stoplight to change. Pam bristled when referred to as a nanny, understandably, since she was much more than that. She was a lifesaver. Kate couldn't imagine being a single mom on her own. Since she had moved in, Pam had effortlessly absorbed all the household duties that Kate knew she could never keep up with. Best of all, Pam was such a positive influence on Jeremy. Kate couldn't believe it when Jeremy started adhering to his bedtime on a nightly basis. He was, without fail, out like a light every night by 10 pm. How did Pam do it?

A car honked behind her, but Kate serenely ignored it. She carefully navigated the intersection, verifying that no one was slipping on the wet roads before proceeding herself. Her humming became an off-key medley of sorts as she gratefully relished the fact that she had left work early for once. It was exhausting to be on her feet all day at the hospital, but more so on the holiday weekends when she knew everyone else was off work. But a happy surprise awaited when she arrived at work this morning: due to a scheduling mix-up, her services were unneeded!

Unable to recall the last time she had a free Monday, Kate celebrated by stopping at a fancy delicatessen on her way home. The passenger seat was occupied by a carefully buckled grocery bag that contained a quart of tomato soup, a baguette, some assorted cheeses, thinly sliced prosciutto, and three big slices of chocolate cake. The freshly baked bread filled her car with its tantalizing scent.

Her phone rang again. She smiled when she saw who it was. “Hi David,” she said, patching the call through the car's hands-free phone mode.

“Hi sweetie,” he answered. “How's your day going?”

“Good! I got off work early and picked some stuff up for dinner. I'm surprising Pam and Jeremy. I'm driving so I really shouldn't be talking though.”

“Then why did you answer?”

“Maybe I just wanted to hear the sweet sound of my boyfriend's voice,” Kate smiled. “Hey, when are you coming over for dinner?”

“The next time our shifts align,” David promised. “It will be any day now. I should let you concentrate on driving. I just heard a nurse page me anyway. Call me later?”

“I'll call you tonight. Bye!” Kate resumed humming. A happy kid, an ultra-competent personal assistant and a doting boyfriend? Things were looking up for the new year.

Upon parking in the garage, Kate checked the grocery bag to ensure that the soup hadn't spilled in transit. It was 2 pm so she was most certainly too late for lunch, but tomato soup and panini would make a wonderful dinner. Monday dinner at home! She couldn't remember the last time that happened either. Juggling the grocery bag and her keys, she let herself into the house.

“Hello?” she called. “I'm home early! And I have treats!”

No one responded. She set down the grocery bag on the kitchen counter. Tossing her coat onto a chair, she rifled through the day's mail. The house seemed unusually quiet. “Hey, where is everybody?” she asked, opening the door to the basement. But it was completely dark down there. They weren't playing video games in the den either. The door to Pam's room was closed, as was Jeremy's door.

She knocked on his door. “Jeremy, I'm home!” Kate was startled to hear a loud thumping noise. Her hand instantly grabbed the doorknob, but she forced herself to wait. A few years ago, she would have immediately entered. But Jeremy was older now and entitled to a certain degree of privacy. “Can I come in?” she asked tentatively.

“Just a second!” Jeremy called. “Uh, come in.” Kate cautiously opened the door. He was sitting in his armchair with a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

“Hey there, kiddo,” she said. “What are you up to?”

“Just reading,” he said, holding up the book in his lap.

“What was that noise?”

“Noise?” he repeated. “Oh. That was Whiskers. She got scared when you knocked on the door. She jumped off my lap.”

“ I see,” Kate nodded. “Have you cut back on her servings like the vet told us to do? That cat must really be putting on the pounds to make such a loud noise.” Jeremy's face was tinged red and he was avoiding her gaze. Kate perched herself on the armrest of his chair. She spotted his dress shirt and tie under the blanket. “Why on earth are you wearing your school uniform?” she asked. “There wasn't school today.”

“Pam told me to put it on. She said I'm less of a troublemaker when I'm wearing it.”

Kate laughed. “Not a bad idea. Where is she, anyway?”

“I think she's taking a nap. She said she had a headache or something.”

Kate eyed him with suspicion. “I hope you weren't responsible. Have you been a good boy for her?”

“No, mom,” Jeremy said earnestly. “I was really good today.”

“Did you finish your homework for tomorrow?”

“No. Pam said I could do it later.”

“I see,” Kate said, unable to keep from smiling. Jeremy was a terrible liar. When he did something wrong, it was written as clear as day on his face. “We've talked about this before. Pam is very nice to you. And probably lets you get away with too much. You're not taking advantage of her kindness, right?”

“Nope.” Jeremy's eyes were glued to his book. It was obvious he wanted her to leave. Just as she stood up, however, there was a gray streak in the doorway as Whiskers darted into the room. Kate was momentarily perplexed by the sight. She suddenly remembered what Jeremy had told her about the loud thump before she entered his room.

“Jeremy, didn't you say that-” She was interrupted by a sneeze. “Bless you,” she said automatically.

“Um, thanks.”

“You're not coming down with something, are you?” She put a hand to his forehead. “You're burning up.”

“Mom, I'm fine,” insisted Jeremy. He squirmed away from her touch. “Really.”

“All right. I think I'll take a bath...” Kate trailed off when she spied something nestled among the sheets on Jeremy's bed. She fished it out. “What's this doing here?” she asked, holding up a black, lacy bra.

Jeremy looked at her blankly. “I don't know. Is it yours?”

Kate laughed. “Jeremy, a lady can always tell when a bra is hers and when it is not. This belongs to Pam.” She paused to let her words sink in. “Why is Pam's bra in your room?”

“I don't know,” he shrugged. “Pam was folding laundry this morning. I guess she forgot it here.”

He fidgeted in his seat. Kate recalled the loud thump when she knocked and Jeremy's ensuing discomfort. Now it was her turn to blush. She had a vision of Jeremy sneaking one of Pam's bras from the laundry basket. When he was nine, she had accidentally walked into his room while he was perusing a Victoria's Secret catalog with a hand roaming inside his underwear. Kate had done her best to forget it ever happened, but Jeremy's titillation for lingerie was clearly still going strong. Her little boy was... apparently not so little anymore. She tried not to think of what she may have interrupted when she knocked on his door. Thank goodness she hadn't charged into his room.

“All right then,” Kate said, setting the bra back on the bed. The sight of it on Jeremy's racecar-themed sheets looked rather scandalous, but what else could she do? “Uh, don't forget to give it back. Maybe just put it in her laundry hamper in the bathroom?”

“Of course,” Jeremy said. “Why would I keep it?”

His face was a picture of sheer bafflement, but Kate knew better. She tried not to smile. He was pouring it on now. Pretending to be confused. “I have no idea,” she told him. “I had a long day so I'm going to take a bath. When you see Pam, can you let her know that I picked up something for dinner? She doesn't have to worry about that tonight.”

“Sure, mom.”

Kate closed his door as she left the room. Taking a moment, she exhaled deeply and put a hand to her mouth. She laughed silently, but more from embarrassment than amusement. Kate wondered if she should inform Pam that her son had poached her underwear for the purpose of... she blushed, unable to complete the thought. Trying her best to forget it, Kate went to run a hot bath for herself. It was probably best to keep this a secret between her and Jeremy, she reasoned. If she was this embarrassed, Kate couldn't imagine how Pam would feel about being the center of attention for her eleven year old son.

Pam peered out the living room window, anxiously scanning for any activity, but the residential street was quiet. Reluctantly, she returned to the couch, only to jump to her feet once again when she heard a car approaching. A lone plow truck, its red sides streaked a dirty gray, rumbled past. Disappointed, Pam checked herself but this time remained at the window though there was little to hold her interest. A layer of dirty ice covered the ground although more snow was predicted for later that day.

It was a drab Monday in January, her least favorite month. The excitement of the holidays had passed, the weather turned ferocious, and the pervasive darkness made her want to stay in bed all day. As if that wasn't excruciating enough, the last few weeks had been particularly dull because Jeremy had started spending weekends with his dad. After Christmas, William and his girlfriend Marla finally decided to move in together. Abandoning his cramped downtown apartment, Jeremy's dad moved into the spacious four-bedroom condo where Marla lived with her daughter Apple. The extra space meant Jeremy was now welcome to stay there, if he so pleased, and he had elected to visit his dad for the past three weekends. When Pam asked him what was so fun over there, he answered with a vague response about a community rec room “with a massive surround sound system and, like, four air hockey tables.”

The first few hours of his absence were a luxury. Pam could catch up on reading. Or she could take a nap whenever she wanted. Lunch could be a handful of cookies and leftovers unearthed from the fridge, in that order. But boredom would eventually set in and she would wonder what Jeremy was doing at that exact moment. Or she might daydream of their possible adventures together if he were home. Last weekend, she got so lonely that she pilfered a pillow from Jeremy's bed and snuggled with it on the couch. The pillow, imbued with his distinctive scent, immediately made Pam feel better, though she embarrassedly wondered if this was a new low.

Now she was impatiently waiting for him to return home. It had been a three-day weekend, thanks to Martin Luther King Day, so William promised to drop Jeremy off on Monday afternoon. His father had a maddening habit of being imprecise with the time, so Pam had spent the last half-hour standing guard at the window like a dog warily watching for the mail. The sound of an engine caught her ear. Eagerly, she glanced out the window and was rewarded with the sight of William's familiar hunter-green SUV. Finally.

Pam unlocked the front door and then hurried to the dinner table which was covered with stacks of paperwork. She sat down just in time as the door opened. There was the brief sound of stamping feet, followed by Jeremy's tentative, “Hello?”

She waited to answer, instead taking a sip of tea that had long since grown cold. “Oh, hi there,” Pam called back, feigning distraction. She began doodling on a piece of paper. “I wasn't expecting you home so early.”

Jeremy entered the dining room. His overnight bag thumped to the floor, followed by his hat, mittens, and then finally his winter coat, all of which left a tidy trail on the ground. He sat down next to Pam. “Whatcha doing?” he asked.

“Just some taxes,” Pam answered. She jotted down some random numbers and pretended to add them up.

Jeremy helped himself to a handful of almonds from a dish on the table. “Looks complicated,” he noted. He had barely sat down before he was up again, wandering toward the kitchen.

“It's not too bad,” Pam said. “Your mom said her accountant was more than willing to help, so I just have to get a few things ready. He's calling me later. How was your weekend at your dad's place?”

“It was fine,” he answered from the kitchen. “Apple taught me how to play chess.”

“How fun,” Pam observed dryly.

“Not really. Apple wouldn't let me win, even though I was a beginner.”

Pam couldn't resist taking a swipe. “She's not nice like me, is she?”

“Nope.” Through the serving window that separated the dinner table from the kitchen, she spotted him examining his mom's work schedule on the refrigerator. She bit her lip to keep from smiling.

Jeremy strolled back with a glass of water. Seating himself next to her again, he asked, “Are you going to be busy all afternoon?”

“Oh, not too much longer.”

He waited until she finished filling out a form. “My mom doesn't get home until after dinner today,” he stated.

“Really? That's too bad. I know she likes to have dinner with us but her schedule always wins.”

“Yeah.” He drained his water glass. “So... do you think we could play Call of Duty when you're done working?”

This time, Pam couldn't keep from breaking into a smile. Sometimes he would come home and immediately ask to play Call of Duty. Other times, he came home talking non-stop about his weekend antics with Apple. She was relieved this was not one of those times. Setting her pen down, she steeled herself before looking into his puppy dog eyes. “Did you finish your homework yet?”

“Aww, Pam,” he groaned. He placed a hand on her knee. “Please?”

“No.” She removed his hand and put it back on his own lap. His hand-on-her-knee tactic had worked flawlessly in the past, but Pam's resolution for the new year was to start sticking to her guns again. Initially, the rule had been, 'No Call of Duty on school nights' but that soon gave way to 'No Call of Duty until your homework is done' which itself petered out to 'No Call of Duty until you at least open a notebook and sharpen your pencil'. The original rule was probably out of the question. Pam was fairly certain she wouldn't be able to resist Call of Duty's siren song on school nights, but surely she could revert to insisting on his homework being done.

It was important, she knew, to set realistic goals.

“Look, it's only 1 o'clock,” she pointed out. “How much homework do you have? One hour? Two, tops? Just get started and you'll be done before you know it. We'll play Call of Duty when you're done.”

Jeremy stood behind her chair and draped himself on her back, his arms wrapping around her shoulders. “Please?” he asked. “We can do it really fast. You know, like a... what do you call it?”

“A quickie?”

“Yeah, that!”

“No.”

Jeremy groaned again, his voice muffled because his face was buried in her hair. Pam could feel his warm breath against her neck, systematically chipping away at her resistance. “I'll tower you,” he offered. He was referring to her favorite position in which he would be on his knees, straddling her, as she lay in his bed.

“Nope.” Pam was proud of herself for hesitating only the merest second before answering. Picking up her pen, she pointed at his bedroom. “Go get your homework. This accountant is supposed to call me in a few minutes anyway.”

He shuffled away, hanging his head in dejection. Pam shook her head at his drama king routine. Returning to her paperwork, she was lost in tabulating last year's wages when Jeremy sat down across from her and opened his backpack. She paid no attention until he cleared his throat several times.

She distractedly glanced at him, then did a double take. While he had indeed retrieved his homework, Jeremy was now wearing his school uniform: gray dress pants, white shirt, and a clip-on tie. Suspicious, Pam tapped her pen on the table. “Okay, I give up. Why are you wearing your school clothes?”

“Oh, you know. I thought it would help me concentrate.” He arranged his books on the table, then borrowed one of her pens without asking. But instead of starting his homework, Jeremy gave her a bright smile.

Pam closed her eyes and put a hand to her forehead. “This better not be going where I think it's going.”

“Remember the last time we played Call of Duty?” Jeremy began.

“Yes. I remember. You don't have to-”

Jeremy interrupted her. “I came home from school and you kept saying how cute I was in my uniform. Then you said we should play Call of Duty but I wouldn't be allowed to take any clothes off. Even though you were in your bathrobe with nothing undern-”

“I said I remember!” Pam sighed. Sheesh, she thought. Indulge in one, tiny schoolboy fantasy and it immediately catches up to you. On that particular day, she had taken a late shower and was trimming her fingernails over the kitchen sink when Jeremy came home from school. It wasn't like she planned any of it. Pam just hadn't expected what a turn-on it would be to let Jeremy peek under her robe while he wore his school clothes. One thing led to another and she ended up plunging a knowing hand into his dress pants while they stood in the kitchen. The ensuing aftermath of K-Y inside his white underwear was a sticky mess. But totally worth it.

She set down her pen. “So you think that wearing your school clothes now will turn me into some horny maniac.” He looked at her in befuddlement. “Horny means someone who really wants to play Call of Duty,” she added helpfully.

“Oh, is that what horny means?” Jeremy asked. She could practically see the gears turning in his head. “I always wondered what it meant. The older boys at school always call us horny losers.”

“I'm glad this has been a learning experience,” Pam told him. “Why don't you keep it up and get started on your homework? You're on a roll.” Jeremy made a face, but rolled up his sleeves to get to work. For some reason, the sight of his slender forearms made her sit up straight. So smooth and endearingly awkward. Temptation was insistently beckoning when her phone rang.

“Saved by the bell,” she thought. Leaving Jeremy to his homework, she quickly gathered the paperwork and retreated to her bedroom to answer the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi there, Miss Carpenter!” a cheerful voice greeted. “It's Andrew. You know, Kate Prater's accountant?”

“Hi Andrew. I have that paperwork that we talked about last time.”

“Great! Wonderful,” he answered. “Just a second... let me get the right forms up on the computer. How's your day going, Miss Carpenter?”

“You can call me Pam,” she assured him. “This day isn't too bad. I mean, I broke out the Jack Daniels after lunch instead of before lunch so that counts as a success for a dreary winter day, right?”

“Ha! I know what you mean,” Andrew laughed. “Personally, I swore I'd stay off the bottle today but that just means I've been chain smoking since breakfast. The guy in the next cube threatened to call HR until I reminded him that I know about that porn folder on his desktop.”

“That sounds about right for office life,” she agreed. “It's basically a contest to see who caves in first and whether they can successfully cover their tracks for murder.” Pam felt bad for Andrew. Based on their previous conversation, she knew that he was freshly graduated from college and terribly bored with life behind a desk.

“All too true,” Andrew sighed. “How do you know so much about office life?”

“Oh, I did a brief stint back in the day.”

“Do I detect a hint of regret?” Andrew asked. “You should come downtown and we'll have lunch sometime. I'll show you everything you're missing. You know, the stolen reams of paper... the lines of coke in the break room...”

“The muffled sobs from the adjoining bathroom stall?” Pam suggested.

“Exactly!”

“Sounds fun.”

Andrew laughed but then his voice became serious. “But really though... would you like to have lunch sometime, Pam? There are some great places downtown that just opened.”

Pam paused. “That's nice of you to offer, Andrew,” she said sympathetically. “Things have been awfully busy over here, though. You know Kate. She's kind of a slave driver.” Perhaps she would have taken up Andrew's offer in a previous lifetime. Times being what they were, however, he may as well have invited her to watch paint dry.

“Right on. Well. Let me know if you change your mind.” There was an awkward pause. “So... you have the previous year's W-2 forms?”

Pam was relieved to have the conversation shift back to business. Having misplaced last year's tax return during the move to the Prater household, she dutifully recited the numbers requested by Andrew. “One second,” he said. “My computer is frozen. Hold on...”

While she waited, Pam overheard the muffled sound of gunfire and explosions from the other side of her bedroom door. Frowning, she followed it to the den where she found Jeremy playing Call of Duty. The actual video game, that is. Apparently in it for the long haul, he was surrounded by an array of snacks to fortify his gaming: dried apple rings, graham crackers, a banana, and a glass of milk.

He was so engrossed that he didn't even notice her presence. He finished a level and, while waiting for the next one to load, idly put a hand inside his pants. She assumed he had an itch, but his hand was in there far too long for that. On the phone, Andrew was still muttering unintelligibly at his computer so Pam kept waiting. It wasn't too bad though. The sight of Jeremy in his school uniform, tie askew and hand crammed into his dress pants, was an excellent way to pass the time.

Nonetheless, she was annoyed he wasn't doing his homework. Picking up the remote control, she turned down the volume on the TV. Jeremy, clearly startled, yanked his hand out of his pants. He pretended to scratch his leg but the guilt on his face was plain as day. Feigning nonchalance, he ate an apple ring, using the same hand that had been crammed inside his pants. Smiling innocently, Pam swept the couch free of graham cracker crumbs before parking herself next to him. He continued playing his game.

“Okay, I think my computer is working again. Sorry about that,” Andrew told her. “Still have those numbers? Hit me.”

She began reading numbers to him again. Her toes were cold so Pam swung her feet onto the couch and stuffed them under Jeremy's thigh. Had he been doing anything other than playing video games, he would have loudly protested Pam's ice-like feet. As it was, nothing short of a Category 5 hurricane could distract him now. While he played, he propped his feet onto the coffee table, slouching to the point where he was practically horizontal. Even though his eyes were glazed over in concentration, Pam had to admit he looked cute. His wrinkled shirt had come untucked from his scratching (or whatever) inside his pants, perfectly playing into Jeremy's artful balance between well-groomed tidiness and unkempt chaos. It was as if he had spent all day behaving at school before finally returning home to be himself.

On the phone, there was another lull as Andrew mumbled a curse at his computer. Muting the call, Pam nudged Jeremy with her foot. “Did you finish your homework?” she inquired.

“Umm...” That was all she needed to hear. Pam was about to turn off the TV when Andrew cleared his throat, reminding her of his presence.

“All right, Pam. I'm back in business. Were you able to find any previous year's tax returns?” he asked her.

She unmuted the phone to return to the conversation. “I couldn't find them,” Pam admitted. “They're around here somewhere. Is that going to be a problem?” She kept poking Jeremy with her foot until he finally paused his game. She pointed at the dining room and mouthed the word 'homework' to him. He responded by scrunching his eyebrows in confusion. With her free hand, Pam mimed writing and emphatically mouthed 'HOMEWORK' once again. His expression of confusion changed to understanding as reached into his pocket and handed her a pen. Shaking her head in disgust, Pam waved him away.

“Not a problem if you can't find last year,” Andrew assured. “We can just ballpark it to make sure you're, well, in the right ballpark. Do you remember if you took a standard or itemized deduction?”

“Pretty sure it was standard,” Pam answered. Jeremy had returned to his game. Her feet were toasty now, thanks to being tucked under him. She extended a leg and put her foot on his lap. Once again absorbed in his game, he thoroughly ignored her. Slyly, Pam angled her foot so that her toes touched the crotch of his dress pants. She traced her big toe in a large arc, back and forth against the brushed wool.

“Sounds good,” Andrew told her. “Do you have total wages and tips from 2015?”

“Um, I have a couple W-2s,” Pam answered. Jeremy gave her a distracted side eye, but kept playing. She had finally gotten his attention at least. Something hard was pressing back against her toe. “Ready for the first one?”

“Go ahead,” Andrew said.

“First is... $42,088,” Pam said. It was surprisingly tricky to read numbers while teasing Jeremy. There was now a bulge in his pants where there had been none before. That made it much easier for her to playfully wriggle her toes on his boyhood. On the television screen, Pam was surprised to see Jeremy's character fall down under a hail of bullets.

“Quit it!” he hissed, shoving her foot away. “That was your fault!”

“Next?” Andrew asked on the phone.

“Uh, $5,254,” she said, returning her foot to his lap. “No wait. $5,524 actually.” Her toes curled against Jeremy's bulge, massaging him. He glanced at her again. “Go do your homework!” she blurted out.

“Excuse me?” Andrew said, baffled.

“Nothing,” Pam answered. “Sorry. I was talking to someone else.” Defiantly, Jeremy removed her leg from his lap and protectively placed a pillow over his lap. He resumed the video game.

“Ah,” Andrew said knowingly. “Multi-tasking, are we?”

Pam smiled wryly as her foot snuck underneath the pillow. Her toe easily located his erection, drawing little circles on it. Jeremy tried to fight her off but his hands were occupied with the controller as he guided his character down a narrow corridor filled with enemy soldiers. Pam kicked the pillow off his lap. The bulge in his pants looked even bigger than before.

“Yes, multi-tasking,” Pam told Andrew. “Ready for the last one? It's, um, $2,786.” It was obvious that her game of footsy was affecting the young boy. Having watched him play countless hours of video games, Pam knew he normally didn't breathe this hard while playing. The screen went blood red, then faded to black as the words GAME OVER appeared.

“You made me die again!” Jeremy accused, raising his voice in anger. He grumpily pushed her foot off his lap and moved further down the couch, away from her reach.

“Jeremy, please. I'm on the phone.” Despite her admonition, Pam scooted closer to him on the couch, one hand holding the phone to her ear while the other hand rested on his knee. Her forefinger and middle finger craftily tiptoed along his wool pants. What was that old advertising tagline? 'Let your fingers do the walking,' she recalled.

“Hey, is that the famous Jeremy Prater?” asked Andrew. “I remember him. Kate brought him by the office once when she was dropping off some forms. He spilled root beer all over my keyboard.”

“Ha ha! That sounds like Jeremy all right,” she said. He gave her another side eye when he heard his name. “Andrew says hi,” Pam told him by way of explanation. Jeremy quickly slapped her hand each time her two fingers walked too close to the crotch of his pants. Watching the action on the TV, she waited until he was busy driving a tank which required keeping both hands on the controller. Touching him with her foot had been fun, but her fingers offered a far better tactile experience. She began petting the bulge in his pants.

“Oh-kay...” Andrew said. He was obviously engrossed with something on his computer. Pam heard the faint clickety-clack of a keyboard over the line. “Just about squared away here. Got your 2016 numbers ready?”

“Sure do,” Pam said. “Just one this time. $25,722 for wages.” Jeremy was fully erect now, so much that she could plainly see the outline of his penis straining against the wool pants. That can't be good for it, she thought. Genuinely concerned for his well-being, Pam undid his belt.

“Check,” Andrew said. “How about federal taxes withheld? Should be box 2.”

“Um, just a second,” Pam said. His belt was easy to do one-handed, but the clasp to his pants proved more tricky. She finally popped it free with her thumb and forefinger. After that, it was a breeze to unzip his pants. “Got it,” she said into the phone. “It's $2,238.”

“Uh huh. State taxes?”

“$851,” she answered. With a practiced deftness, Pam's fingers burrowed into the fly of Jeremy's white underwear. His penis felt very warm and just the slightest bit sweaty. Wrapping her fingers around it, she guided him through his fly so that his erection was jutting freely from his underwear. She fanned his penis with her hand for a moment, as if it were a slice of pizza that was too hot to eat. Jeremy looked at her as if she were crazy. Pam responded by puckering her lips in an air kiss.

“I click here... I click there... and...” Andrew was talking to himself. “Now if I recall correctly, Kate and William said they were paying you $5000 a month, right?”

“Correct.” Pam ran a fingertip against the deliciously soft skin of Jeremy's penis. Any hint of sweat had evaporated. Satisfied, she began stroking the underside of his erection, starting at the base and then gliding upward until she reached the puckered tip.

“Okay, just a second again,” Andrew said. “I need to plug in some numbers to figure out what taxes you owe for that.... and then I need to plug those numbers into Kate and William's return as well. Let's see. Marital status is divorced...” He was talking to himself again.

“Not a problem at all,” Pam assured him. “Take your time.” As she fondled Jeremy, Pam marveled at how versatile his penis could be. When he was soft, it was merely a dangling tube, but when he became fully hard, like now, it grew several times over until she could see the outline of his corona under the tight foreskin. She idly wondered when he would be able to pull back his foreskin to reveal the hidden delights underneath. “Shouldn't he be able to do it by now?” she thought to herself. At age eleven?

Being a doctor, his mom would probably know. But it wasn't exactly something Pam could casually bring up in a passing conversation. “So, Kate, Jeremy's class is going on a field trip to the natural history museum so you'll need to sign this permission slip. Oh, and by the way, have you noticed that he isn't able to fully retract his foreskin yet?”

“This is interesting,” Andrew said.

“Hmm?” Pam said. She had almost forgotten he was on the phone.

“Technically, Kate and William could write your earnings off as child care. That could save them... well, quite a bit. And then... oh, this is very, very interesting.”

“What's interesting?” Pam asked. She wondered how much longer this would take. Jeremy's brow furrowed as he attempted to concentrate on his game, but she noticed his character was dying much more frequently. He wasn't complaining anymore, at least. Continuing her light strokes, Pam's fingers were rewarded with an involuntary throb as his penis demanded more attention.

“If Kate and William pay you just a few extra hundred dollars, they'll fall into a lower bracket.” Andrew sounded very pleased, as if he had just discovered a cure for cancer. “So they'll technically save some money. And you'll make some money!”

“Everybody wins!” Pam agreed. She closed a fist around Jeremy's erection. Now it was her own palm that was sweaty, but that wasn't the worst thing that could happen. The moisture created just the right amount of friction between her hand and his skin.

“I'm going to patch them through in a conference call,” Andrew announced. “I've always wanted to do this. A four-way phone conversation!”

Pam sat up straight on the couch. “Wait, like right now?”

But it was too late. The familiar electronic tone of ringing sounded on the line, followed by a click. “Hello?”

“Hi William! Andrew Cuttlebaum here. I'm doing taxes with Pam and I needed your sign off. Let's see if I can get Kate too...”

“Hello?” At the exact moment Kate came on the line, Jeremy's erection just happened to twitch in Pam's hand. Flustered, her hand became even more sweaty.

“Kate! It's Andrew. Doing taxes with Pam and I needed to get everyone's verbal consent. We've got a little conference call action going on. William and Pam are on the line too.”

“Oh. Hi Pam,” Kate said.

“Hi Pam,” William chimed in.

“Um, hi there,” she answered. Guiltily, she stopped touching Jeremy. The moment she withdrew her hand, however, he paused his game. Taking her by the wrist, he returned her reluctant hand to his erection. Only then did he resume playing, leaving Pam to blush as she continued the phone call.

“So here's the deal,” Andrew said. “Everyone paying attention? Kate and William, if you're willing to pay Pam an extra, let's see, $566? It will push you into a lower tax bracket for a savings of $721. I admit it's a not a huge sum, but you'll technically save $155. Would you like to do that?”

“I don't see a problem with that,” William said.

“Same here,” Kate agreed. “Consider it your performance bonus, Pam. Very well deserved. Congrats!”

“Yeah. Um, thanks!” Pam found it easiest to be staring straight ahead and not looking at Jeremy. Once she did that, it was easy to pretend the warm hardness in her hand was merely his finger. (Well, judging from the girth, maybe one-and-a-half of his fingers.) But then Jeremy shattered the illusion by shivering, a full body quiver from his toes to his neck, his head rolling back as he took a deep breath. Pam was distressed to see that his eyes were now closed. He had completely abandoned his game. Was she pushing him too close to the edge? It had been one thing to playfully tease him while on the phone with Andrew, but the thought of giving the young boy an orgasm while his parents were on the line seemed a step too far.

“Oh Pam?” William said. “Before I forget, can you tell Jeremy he forgot his iPod over here?”

“Sure thing,” she answered. This was getting too weird. Now it was Pam's turn to move away from Jeremy. Sliding down the couch, she accidentally sat on his forgotten snacks. The baggie of dried apple rings were fine but the graham crackers were reduced to crumbs.

The physical distance between them proved insufficient as she could still see Jeremy's unflagging erection. She modestly placed the bag of apple rings on his lap to hide the view. Jeremy responded by tossing his game controller on the floor, crawling across the couch, and sprawling himself across her lap. His untucked dress shirt and unzipped pants neatly framed his ever-present erection. His school clothes, having previously sent her into a buzzy state of arousal, now seemed wildly inappropriate. In a fit of modesty, Pam straightened his tie and pulled his shirt down to hide his crotch, but Jeremy would have none of it. Instead, he wrapped both hands around her wrist, guiding her hand between his legs.

“What are you two up to this afternoon, Pam?” Kate asked.

“Oh... um, you know. Just hanging out.” Jeremy formed her fingers into a fist around his erection. Pam's ears burned red as he manually urged her hand into a jacking motion.

“Is he being a handful?”

“No!” Pam exclaimed, perhaps a bit too forcefully. “I mean, not at all. He needs to do his homework though.” She gave Jeremy a withering gaze, but he responded with his 'I know you think I'm cute' smile. His hands wrapped tightly around her fingers, preventing her from letting go of his penis, but Pam stubbornly refused to move her fist.

“That boy,” Kate said. “He always needs so much motivation. Tell him he's in big trouble if he doesn't get his homework done.”

“You're way too nice to him, Pam,” William interjected. “If you're wondering, I personally would not hold it against you if ever felt the need to spank him. You know, just toss him over your lap and give him a good smack to the bottom.”

“Um...” Pam was at a complete loss for words. Did William possess some sort of telepathic dad-radar that informed him Jeremy was currently splayed atop her legs? Her mouth was so dry that she took a sip from Jeremy's glass of milk that was now room temperature.

“William! How could you say that about your son?” Kate objected. “He's very well-behaved.”

“Maybe when Pam is around. He's a holy terror otherwise.”

“That's not fair and you know it.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “So anyway,” he said, cutting in, “Pam, I'll mail you your final 1040 later this week. You just need to sign and return it. Kate and William, same thing for you. I'll send revised documents for you to sign and return. Sound good, everyone?”

“Sounds great to me,” Pam said. “Is that all for today?”

“Thanks Andrew,” William added.

“Andrew could you stay on the line for a bit?” Kate requested. “I have some questions about next year's tax strategy.”

“Of course.”

“Bye everyone!” Pam said. She had never been more grateful to end a call. Tossing her phone aside, Pam pried his fingers off hers to free her trapped hand. “You are being very difficult today,” she said sternly.

“How come you were blushing so much on the phone?” he asked.

“Never mind that. How come you're playing video games when you haven't finished your homework?”

“I'll finish my homework after you play Call of Duty with me,” he promised. His exposed penis was still swaying in the breeze. He grasped her wrist in an attempt for further manual attention, but Pam instead returned his penis to its usual place inside his underwear. After buttoning his pants, she handed him the dried apples, the bag of crushed graham crackers and the untouched banana.

“Put these away, will you? I don't want to find another bruised banana under the couch cushions.” She pointed a finger at him. “You are doing your homework, Mr. Prater.”

“No,” Jeremy contradicted, an impish grin on his face. “You are playing Call of Duty with me, Miss Carpenter.” Using the banana, he rapped her wrist twice to emphasize the last two words.

Pam couldn't explain why, but the sensation of the cool banana on her skin and hearing him say the words 'Miss Carpenter' perked her hormones like a morning shot of espresso. It probably had something to do with his school uniform too. Already wet from the couch play, she swelled in an unexpected wide-on. “Um, say again?” she said, holding out her wrist.

“You are playing Call of Duty with me, Miss Carpenter,” he repeated, once again tapping her with the banana.

And, once again, her body responded in the same manner, causing Pam to squirm in aroused vexation. Oh well. There was plenty of time, she decided, to stick to her New Year's resolutions in February. “How about we go to your room?” she proposed.

“Yes!” Jeremy rolled off her lap and onto his feet. “Wow, I can't believe that worked,” he remarked. “I need to add it to the list.”

“Yes, the 'list.' Very amusing,” Pam said without a trace of mirth. “You think you're so clever.”

“Why were you on the phone for so long anyway?” he asked.

“Because your mom's accountant has a crush on me,” Pam answered. She held out a hand and he helped her off the couch. Her leg had fallen asleep from the weight of him.

“Really? But he's never even met you.” Jeremy stuffed a handful of dried apple in his mouth.

“So what? That means he can't have a crush?” Her right leg was useless from the thigh down so Pam held Jeremy's shoulder for support as they retired to his room. “Let me get this straight,” she said, closing his bedroom door behind them. “You just don't understand how someone could think I'm cute even if he never met me?”

“It's a little weird, don't you think?” Jeremy said. “I mean, for all he knows, a crocodile might have bitten off your face.”

“There is more to a crush than just looks, you know,” Pam answered. “I might play Call of Duty, if you answer one question for me.” She sat down on his bed. “What do you think my best feature is?” she challenged.

He pursed his lips in contemplation, but she caught him peeking at her chest. Pam sighed and crossed her arms. “Besides that, Jeremy.”

“Um.” He finished chewing and set aside the baggie of dried apples. “Your... eyes?” he said hopefully.

Pam laughed. “You sound like the teacher just called on you while you were goofing off in class. And you have no clue what the right answer is.”

“Definitely your eyes,” Jeremy said, nodding confidently.

“And what do you like about them?”

He peered into her face, then moved closer to get a better look, so close that their noses almost touched. So close that she could smell the apple and graham cracker on his breath. “They're pretty. I like that shade of blue. Not too dark, not too light. They remind me of...” he trailed off.

“A stormy summer sky?” Pam suggested.

“No...”

“The endless ocean, perhaps?”

“Not that either.” He snapped his fingers. “I know! My dad has an old shirt that color! It's the same shade of blue.”

Pam stood up. “That's it. No Call of Duty for you.”

Jeremy followed right on her heels as she left the room. “Wait, where are you going? Why are you mad?”

“Jeremy. You don't tell a girl her eyes remind you of your dad's blue shirt.”

“But listen,” he protested. He took her hand and pulled her back to his bed. Pam reluctantly let herself be led back. “You didn't even let me finish. My parents have this old picture where they're all dressed up. You know how old pictures have those, well, old-fashioned colors? Like an Instagram filter, but even better. I like looking at those old pictures because colors don't look like that anymore. Plus, my parents always looked... happy. Back then.” He paused. “Your eyes remind me of all that.”

Pam was taken aback by his words. When did he start talking like an old soul? Relenting, she said, “Okay. I can live with that.”

“What about me?” Jeremy asked eagerly. “What's my best feature?”

“It's hard to choose just one,” Pam mused, regarding the eleven year old boy. Fussing over him, she tucked in the flap of his shirt that had come undone and zipped up his zipper. “Let's see... You have a pretty mouth.”

Jeremy was absolutely gobsmacked. She may as well have said she admired his fingernails. “My mouth?” he repeated, making a face.

“Oh yes,” Pam confirmed. “You have a yummy mouth. It makes me want to do this.” She leaned in close to give him a kiss. It was barely a peck on the lips, but Jeremy visibly shivered from the intimate contact. Placing a finger under his chin, she moved close until they were once again nose to nose.

“You really think my eyes are my best feature?” she asked. Her eyes locked onto the hazel-brown glossiness of his irises.

“Yes.”

Jeremy's eyes were so unflinchingly true that a vertiginous sensation swirled her mind. She kissed him again, savoring the tentative shyness in his lips. One day they would practice kissing but, until then, his beginner's kisses were still rather charming. She pulled herself away long enough to tell him, “Since you're such a sweetheart, I'm going to let you see my second best feature.”

Jeremy didn't understand what she meant until she pulled her shirt over her head. “Oh. You mean your boobs?”

Pam suppressed a sigh. “Yes, my boobs. As you so lovingly put it.”

“Um, I like your bra,” he ventured. “It's fancy looking.”

“Thank you!” Pam said, flattered that he noticed. She was wearing a new bra that was black and lacy.

“I've never seen a black bra before,” he commented. “I mean, in real life.”

Pam playfully ran a finger underneath his school tie. “Oh, I've got all sorts of things you haven't seen yet in real life,” she smiled.

“Like what?”

“Be patient. I'll show you one day. Besides, you seem fairly happy with the things I've shown you so far.” Turning her back to him, she pulled aside her mane of brown hair. “Help, please?” His fingers expertly undid the clasp to her bra. Shrugging her shoulders free of the straps, Pam delicately set the bra on his bed.

Still standing, Jeremy fidgeted shyly as she sat before him. It didn't matter that he had seen her breasts countless times before, but he was always endearingly awkward whenever she undressed for him. He opened his mouth to say something, but then checked himself instead.

“Yes, you may touch,” Pam said, reading his mind. Cautiously, Jeremy stepped closer. He always started the same way: first, he would tentatively cup a breast in the palm of each hand, as if he were weighing them. Then his fingers would press against her flesh, kneading and squeezing. Pam suspected that the eleven year old boy was fascinated by their squishiness.

“You know, I'm probably going to regret asking this,” Pam began, “but why do you like my breasts so much anyway?”

“Um, because they're awesome?”

“I figured as much. Could you be more specific?” Pam shivered as he traced the outline of her areola. Her nipples had grown hard but, frustratingly, he was not paying enough attention to them.

“I don't know,” Jeremy said. He was at a complete loss to explain. Hesitantly, he cupped one of her breasts and ran a finger underneath where the curve of fruit met her flat ribcage. “I like how the skin feels here,” he said. “It's really soft. Like the softest thing I've ever felt.” He leaned in close to press his cheek against her breast. Pam inhaled slowly, basking in the sheer pleasure of his skin brushing hers.

“Always soft?”

“Well, the bottoms are. But this part isn't soft anymore,” Jeremy noted, rubbing a thumb across her stiffened nipple. “Why does that happen anyway?”

“They'll get hard if I'm cold,” she explained. Her heart thumped loudly. It was always exciting to teach him about female anatomy. “But they'll also get hard from being touched. You know. The same way a boy gets hard.”

“That makes sense,” he nodded. An involuntary tremor caused her shoulders to twitch as Jeremy focused on her nipples. He immediately froze. “Should I stop?” he asked. “Or should I keep going?”

Pam pretended to mull the decision. “Umm, keep going.” She liked that he always asked for permission like a gentleman. Nevertheless, she reminded him, “You'll be gentle, right? Especially with my nipples?”

“Okay.” He paused before adding, “But sometimes you like it when I pinch.”

“Very true,” Pam conceded. “But it's always a good idea to start out gently. I'll let you know if I want you to pinch.” True to his word, Jeremy was as careful as an archaeologist excavating an ancient ruin. Pam leaned back, placing her hands on his mattress to prop herself up straight, pushing her chest forward to encourage the young boy's explorations. When his fingers caressed the undersides of her breasts, she closely studied the pleased expression on his face when he located the softness that he loved so much.

Since he was wearing his school clothes, Pam decided to make the most of it. She pointed to the chair at his desk. “What don't you have a seat?” she said, recalling another schoolboy fantasy. Under his watchful eye, she wiggled out of her jeans and underwear. Now completely naked, she knelt next to his chair to undo his belt and dress pants. He remained seated as she eased his pants down to his ankles. His underwear, though, she left in place.

Licking her lips, Pam swung a leg over him and straddled Jeremy in the chair, lowering herself until she was sitting on his lap. “Hi, Mr. Prater,” she said. “I heard you were misbehaving in math class today.”

“I was?” She could tell he was distracted by her breasts, which were perfectly situated at eye-level for him.

“Oh yes,” Pam answered. All it took was the merest shift of her hips and she could instantly feel the bulge in his underwear pressing between her spread legs. “I don't like seeing you in detention, you know. Are you going to start being a good boy?”

“Um, yeah.”

“I believe you mean 'Yes, Miss Carpenter,'” she corrected.

“Yes, Miss Carpenter,” he dutifully repeated.

“I'm glad to hear that,” she told him. “I don't play Call of Duty with bad boys.” She reached for the dried apple rings on his desk. Choosing two, she hung an apple ring from each of her stiff nipples.

“Would you like a snack, Mr. Prater?”

The eleven year old boy stared at her in surprise. With a hand behind his head, Pam guided his mouth to her breast. His lips were timid, teasing her with incidental contact, as they nibbled an apple ring. His warm breath and soft lips were heavenly. Barely taking any time to chew, Jeremy swallowed the first apple ring whole and then eagerly moved onto the second one. This time, she felt his rough teeth scrape against the sensitive tissue as he nibbled. But it was not unpleasant at all.

“Can you make sure they're clean?” she asked. “I don't want any leftover apple on my breasts.” The sight of his tongue lapping against her pink nipple made Pam press her hips hard against his underwear. He moved on to her other nipple, this time sucking gently on the hardened knob of flesh. She swooned from his attention. The soft cotton of his underwear offered just the right amount of friction against her swollen clit. An unmistakable heat emanated from his stiff bulge, urging her onward like a candle in a window. Placing her hands on his shoulders, Pam rocked her hips to and fro as she she blissfully rode the young boy's hidden erection.

The combined stimulation between her legs and on her chest culminated in a delightful shiver that made her gasp. “Should I pinch yet?” Jeremy asked. His ever-vigilant hands moved into position over her nipples.

“Not yet, Mr. Prater.” He began kneading her breasts instead, causing Pam's head to roll backward. The wooden chair creaked dangerously under their combined weight but she was too far gone to stop. His underwear, now slick with her own moisture, did little to contain the unyielding hardness that poked her in all the right places.

Using his school tie, Pam pulled Jeremy closer until his face was nicely mashed between her breasts. She ground forcefully against him, her hips now frantic in their rapid movements. “Ohhh,” Pam breathed. “Are you ready? Pinch now. Pinch now!” She felt his thumb and forefinger targeting her nipples, followed by two searing pinpoints that sent her into a careening orgasm. It would have been painful in any other circumstance, but her heightened state of arousal magically transformed the pain into a devilish pleasure.

“Uurghhmm!” Pam heard something between a moan and a sigh escape her lips. Though separated by his underwear, she could easily feel his erection throbbing against her ravenous clit. She wrapped her arms around his head, holding so tight that his face was buried in her cleavage. For the longest moment, the dizzying orgasm commanded all her senses, blocking out everything. Eventually, though, she became aware of Jeremy's warm breath on her chest. Not wanting to suffocate him, she released her iron grip on his head.

He smiled broadly, his chin tucked between the valley of her breasts. “Gosh,” Jeremy said.

“I'll say,” agreed Pam, sighing. She was playing with his hair when when she felt him stiffen in her arms.

“Do you hear something?” he asked. He cocked an ear. “What was that?”

His warm body felt exceptionally nice on such a cold winter day. “What was what?” Pam replied lazily. “I didn't hear anything.”

“I thought I heard someone's voice,” he told her.

Pam impulsively licked his ear, savoring the taste of his skin. “All I hear is a boy who likes to play Call of Duty,” she giggled. He was still poking her in a very intimate spot. Had he not been wearing underwear, he surely would have slipped inside. She was lost in that thought when the sound of knocking on his door startled her back to reality. Their heads swiveled in unison at the closed door, unsure if they actually heard it.

“Jeremy, I'm home!” his mom's cheerful voice intoned.

Jeremy lurched to his feet, causing Pam to stumble backward until she landed on the bed. In his panic, he forgot about the pants around his ankles and tripped, landing on the floor with a loud thump. As he kicked free of his pants, Pam was dismayed to see a large teardrop-shaped wet spot adorning the bulge of his underwear. Though her arousal sometimes soaked her own panties, this was the first time she had gotten someone else's underwear wet.

But there was no time to worry about that now. Pam's chest constricted, her heart pounding so loud that it felt as if it might leap out of her throat. Paralyzed with fear, her mind went blank. On the other side of the door, Kate hesitantly asked, “Can I come in?”

“Just a second!” Jeremy responded. He looked at Pam in desperation. She blinked, willing her brain to think. There was no time to get dressed, so she did the only thing she could do. Naked as a jaybird, Pam dropped to the ground and rolled under his bed, moving as far away as possible from the open edge. Her clothes unceremoniously joined her as Jeremy kicked them under the bed. He cleared his throat before saying, “Um, come in.”

Pam held her breath as the door opened. Jeremy appeared to be sitting in his armchair. She hoped he had the good sense to have book or something in his lap. She definitely didn't want Kate to see the mark of telltale wetness she had left on her son's underwear.

“Hey there, kiddo. What are you up to?” The only thing Pam could see were Kate's sneakers and the ankles of her blue hospital scrubs. Cautiously, she tried to breathe. It wasn't easy because of all the dust under Jeremy's bed. Around her was the usual detritus of a preteen boy: a hopelessly tangled pair of earbuds, an empty bottle of Coppertone, a crumpled paper airplane. She wished there were a blanket down there. Goosebumps formed on her body as a chilly draft found her exposed skin.

“Just reading,” she heard Jeremy reply.

“What was that noise?”

“Noise? Oh. That was Whiskers. She got scared when you knocked on the door. She jumped off my lap.” He spoke without hesitation, his voice perfectly natural. Pam supposed that was a good thing in this instance, but she was nonetheless perturbed that he was so effortlessly lying.

“I see. Have you cut back on her servings like the vet told us to do? That cat must really be putting on the pounds to make such a loud noise.” Kate paused a moment. “Why on earth are you wearing your school uniform? There wasn't school today.”

Her question made Pam's heart skip a beat but Jeremy apparently had ice-cold blood in his veins. “Pam told me to put it on. She said I'm less of a troublemaker when I'm wearing it.” Under the bed, Pam blinked several times in disbelief. Had Jeremy always been this duplicitous?

“Not a bad idea,” Kate laughed. “Where is she, anyway?”

“I think she's taking a nap. She said she had a headache or something.”

“I hope you weren't responsible. Have you been a good boy for her?”

“No, mom. I was really good today.”

“Did you finish your homework for tomorrow?”

“No. Pam said I could do it later.”

Pam had to roll her eyes at that one. Kate must have sniffed out that one too because she said, “I see. We've talked about this before. Pam is very nice to you. And probably lets you get away with too much. You're not taking advantage of her kindness, right?”

“Nope.”

Beyond the open door, Pam saw Whiskers poking her head into Jeremy's room. The cat headed straight for her as she lay under the bed, kicking up a dusty cloud that tickled her nostrils. Scrunching up her nose, Pam desperately tried to contain the urge to sneeze. She lost the battle. “Ah-choo!” Fearing the worst, she clapped a hand over her wildly itchy nose. It was a full-fledged sneeze, the kind that could wake the dead. Surely his mom couldn't have missed it?

“Bless you,” she heard Kate say.

“Um, thanks,” Jeremy answered. Kate didn't notice that the sneeze came from under the bed? Utterly dumbfounded, Pam pinched her nose to keep from sneezing again. Whiskers's tail kept batting her in the face, causing her to lose track of what was happening up above. She dropped completely out of the conversation until she heard Kate say something about a woman being able to recognize her own bra.

Worriedly, Pam pawed at the pile of clothing that Jeremy had kicked under the bed. Her jeans and shirt were there. Her panties were there. Her bra was... not there. Kate's next words made her shiver in fear.

“Why is Pam's bra in your room?”

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Pam thought. She shut her eyes and prayed to every deity she could think of. “Just let us get out of this and I will never, ever lay my hands on Jeremy again.” Heck, she would take a lifelong vow of abstinence, move to the countryside and join an abbey. The other nuns would refer to her as Sister Pam. Her days would be spent cooking plain rice and sweeping the cold stone floors. Every Sunday she would cast yearning glances to the altar boys at mass, then immediately retire to her austere room to beg for forgiveness and recite one hundred Our Fathers.

Sister Pam was trying to envision herself in a nun's habit when, once again, Jeremy covered as best he could. “I don't know. Pam was folding laundry this morning. I guess she forgot it here.”

“All right then.” Pam could clearly hear the doubt in Kate's voice. “Uh, don't forget to give it back to her. Okay?” Kate's feet headed for the door. Pam quietly crossed herself. Did his mom actually buy the laundry story? They exchanged a few more words that Pam missed. All she cared about was the sight of the bedroom door as it swung closed. After it clicked shut, she held her breath. The patter of Kate's receding footsteps was like the triumphant sound of angels sounding their trumpets in jubilee.

“You can come out now,” Jeremy said. Pam rolled out from under the dusty bed. Standing up, she took a relieved breath of fresh air. “Was it cold down there?” he asked.

“It was freezing,” Pam began. Then she noticed he was looking at her breasts when he posed his question. Her nipples were hard again, though this time because of the cold air. Suddenly self-conscious, Pam retrieved her bra and got dressed.

“Why are you putting your clothes on?” Jeremy demanded.

“Your mom is home, duh,” Pam said, extricating her panties from the bunched up pile of clothes. “I've had enough close calls for one day. Could you Google 'heart attack' and monitor me for any symptoms?”

“But what about my turn?” Jeremy asked plaintively.

The panic from getting caught had effectively erased her earlier arousal. “Sorry, Jeremy. I really am.” It wasn't until she yanked on her shirt and jeans that Pam finally felt secure enough to breathe normally. “But there is no way we are ever playing Call of Duty again when your mom is home.”

“But didn't you hear her say she was taking a bath? Can't we just do it really quick?”

“Nope.” Pam steadfastly crossed her arms. It wasn't easy to argue with an eleven year old boy. Particularly when he was wearing school clothes on top and underwear on the bottom. After enduring his glare for several seconds, Pam thought she had won but Jeremy responded by moving a chair in front of the door.

“I'm not letting you leave this room until we play Call of Duty.” He sat down in the chair and leaned against the door.

“Oh, really?” Pam asked.

“Really.”

Pam sat down on his bed. “So I guess we'll just stay in here until we die of starvation.”

“Technically, we would die of dehydration first,” Jeremy informed her. “You can live for a month without food but only three days without water.”

“In that case, I would open the window and eat snow,” Pam said. “But I wouldn't let you have any. So, technically, you'll die of dehydration before I would.”

“Well, that snow is super dirty anyway,” Jeremy countered. “You'll probably get dysentery. And then have diarrhea so bad that you'll get even more dehydrated. So you'll die first after all.”

“Yes, but if you have to watch me battle a raging case of diarrhea in your bedroom, you'll get so disgusted that you'll start throwing up and...” Pam trailed off. Playing a game of 'gross-out' against a young boy was probably a losing strategy. “This is getting stupid,” she told him. “Fine. We can play Call of Duty.” She patted the bed. “Why don't you come over here?”

Jeremy eagerly rose from the chair blockading the door. As he settled onto the bed next to her, Pam fondly straightened the hair on his forehead and smiled. He beamed at her in return, which made her feel ever-so-slightly guilty about what she was planning to do. Placing a hand on his knee, she lingered just a second before quickly pushing herself off the bed, triumphantly making a beeline for the door. “Sucker!” she called over her shoulder.

“Hey!” Jeremy tried to tackle her but instead landed on the floor with a crash. Flailing wildly, he managed to wrap his arms around her ankle. Pam was halfway to the door but now she was anchored by the full weight of Jeremy's seventy-five pounds. She could hear his skin squeak against the hardwood floor as she dragged him along.

“I'm... almost... there!” Pam announced, gasping with each step. By the time she reached the door, however, she was so exhausted that she plopped onto the chair for a break.

Still laying on the floor, Jeremy clutched her ankle as if his life depended on it. “Please?” he asked, pressing his cheek against her leg.

Pam sighed. “You're never going to let go of my ankle, are you?”

“I've been thinking of playing Call of Duty with you all weekend,” he confided.

Her heart melted, just a little. “Aww... really?”

“I mean, it feels weird playing Call of Duty at my dad's. I keep worrying about getting caught. So I decided to wait. It's way more fun to play with you anyway.”

“Aww...” Pam said again. Though it was adorable the way he clung to her ankle, it was somewhat disconcerting to carry on a conversation with him lying on the floor. “C'mere, you,” she said, pulling him onto her lap. She cradled him in her arms. “You waited all weekend just for me?”

Jeremy nodded. As he sat side-saddle in her lap, Pam rested her hand against his bare thighs. He put a hand on hers and shyly admitted, “I kept, um, you know. Getting boners.”

Pam giggled. “Aw... you got a boner? When you thought about little ol' me?”

“Sure.”

Her fingers caressed the bulge in his underwear. If Kate was in the bath, she reasoned, then surely they had at least half an hour. And they didn't need half an hour. They only needed a few minutes. “You poor thing,” Pam soothed. “I think you have a boner right now too, don't you?”

“Uh huh.”

“Want me to help you take care of it?”

“Okay!” he agreed. “I mean, if you're offering...”

“I am. Go get the stuff,” she told him. Ever since she gave it to him for Christmas, Jeremy had referred to the lubricant as 'stuff' instead of K-Y. She ended up adopting the term as well.

He slid off her lap, then paused. “Wait. This isn't another trick is it?”

“Not a trick. I swear.”

“Well... just in case, then.” Jeremy pulled her to her feet and clamped a hand around her wrist. Having no choice, Pam followed docilely as he retrieved the bottle of K-Y from its hiding spot behind the corner of his mattress. He handed it to her.

She gave the bottle an amazed shake. “How did we go through an entire bottle of stuff already?” she wondered. “That's a lot of Call of Duty for one boy.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot to tell you last time. We're almost out.”

“I'll pick up some more next time I go shopping,” Pam promised. She led him back to the door.

“Why are we doing it over here?”

“I'm a little on edge, okay?” she explained. She moved the chair aside. “Just lean your back against the door. You're going to be our security system. Just make sure that door stays closed.” He dubiously did as she asked. “Let's get you out of this underwear,” Pam said, eying the wet spot she had left on him. Since she was kneeling before him, she had an excellent view of his bouncing erection as she freed him of his underpants.

Without further ado, Pam squirted some K-Y into her palm and began waving him off. While Jeremy had finally moved on from using Coppertone as a lubricant, he still bitterly complained whenever she tried to coax him into the traditional jacking off motion she had taught him while vacationing in Florida. If Kate weren't home, Pam would have taken the opportunity to acclimate him to jacking off. As it was, she was still a bundle of nerves and there was no time to waste.

The motion of her hand against his penis had the same effect as a tranquilizer dart. Leaning against the door, Jeremy's shoulders drooped in relaxation and his eyes fluttered shut. Pam, however, kept her own eyes peeled. Her ears perked up at every sound from the other side of the door.

It was no fun playing Call of Duty when she was so anxious. In attempt to calm her nerves, Pam tried to return to the schoolboy fantasy. Here's Jeremy in his shirt and tie, she told herself. We're not in his bedroom. We're in a classroom. I made him stay inside for recess. He has his underwear around his ankles. She planted a kiss on his bare thigh to get his attention. “Does that feel nice?” she asked.

Opening his eyes, Jeremy nodded. “Yes.”

Pam cocked an eyebrow at him. “Yes, what?” she prompted, straightening his tie.

“Uh, yes, Miss Carpenter.”

“Good boy.” Still waving him off with her right hand, Pam used her left to fondle the baby-smooth surface of his hairless scrotum. She softly probed to locate the twin globes under his puckered pink skin.“Are you getting close?”

“Yes, Miss Carpenter.”

Between her legs, her insides throbbed each time he said those words, helping her forget that they weren't home alone. “Are you going to remember your manners and ask for permission this time?”

Jeremy opened his mouth to speak, but a shudder interrupted him. His eyes closed again. Pam felt his hips thrust forward against her palm. Subtly, her palm transitioned to a circular waving pattern that never failed to push him over the edge.

Jeremy took a deep breath. “Miss Carpenter? May I... um...”

Pam realized he didn't know how to word his request, which was terribly cute. And also terribly hot. Taking pity on him, she said, “Yes, you may.”

“Uh... Uh!” The young boy grunted twice, each sound punctuated by an involuntary tremble of his hips. His orgasm was so powerful that he sagged against the door. His knees buckled, forcing him to clutch her shoulder for support. “Oh Pam!”

She was somewhat chagrined that he forgot to call her Miss Carpenter, but it was a forgivable offense, considering the circumstances. Pam didn't stop waving him off until she heard the soft thud of his head as it lolled back against the door. Jeremy sighed and sank to the floor in a crumpled heap.

“That good, huh?” Pam commented. Instead of answering, he curled into a ball, drawing his knees to his chest and closing his eyes. Pam looked around for something to wipe her hands clean. The last thing she wanted was to run into Kate with K-Y dripping from her hand. “Oh Jeremy. Quit playing around. If you're going to nap, at least get in your bed, will you?”

He still didn't answer. Pam prodded him with her toe. Nothing. While this was not the first time she witnessed his post-orgasmic narcolepsy, this was undoubtedly the strangest place he had ever succumbed to it. Covering him with a blanket, Pam inched open the door just enough to squeeze through. Knowing her son as well as she did, Kate probably wouldn't find it too weird to discover Jeremy sleeping on the floor.

Pam was washing her hands free of K-Y at the kitchen sink when Kate entered. “Oh, hi Kate,” she said, pretending to be surprised. “I didn't know you were home.”

“I got lucky with the schedule and came home early,” she explained. “How are you doing? Jeremy told me you had a headache.”

“I did, but it passed. Thankfully.” Pam dried her hands on the kitchen towel. “I took a nap, which helped. It's probably this dark winter weather that's getting to me.”

“Is Jeremy around?” Kate asked, peering into the den.

“Um, no. I just checked on him. He's taking a nap.”

“That boy sure does nap a lot lately,” Kate remarked. “I suppose it's a good thing. Growing boys need their rest.”

“Definitely,” Pam agreed.

“Speaking of growing boys...” Kate seated herself at the kitchen counter. “I realize this is coming from left field, Pam, so feel free to say no.”

Pam noticed the way Kate was nervously fiddling with a napkin. “What's up? Is everything okay?”

“This is a bit embarrassing,” Kate began. “But, you know, Jeremy is getting older and we, I mean William and I, neither of us have spoken to him yet about, um, the birds and the bees. Don't get me wrong. Jeremy knows where babies come from, but we never really explained the, uh, mechanics behind it. And now William and I separated, of course, which means I'll have to explain on my own. And I'm not exactly looking forward to it. Would you mind being present when I give Jeremy the, ahem...” Kate blushed a deep red before finishing, “the sex talk?”