Chapter 7
Confronting Stephan the next morning was one of the most difficult things Jean had ever done in her life. She'd awakened almost at sun-up. The memory of the lewd and incestuous episode that had taken place the night before flooded back to her with a wave of contradictory images. She was at the same time elated and disgusted. Her memory of the obscene ecstasy which her young son had given her with his inexperienced but exquisite finger-fucking of her love-starved loins caused tingles of unwanted delight and passion to dance like chills over her naked flesh beneath the sheet. Her heart almost leapt into her throat with her recollection of his naked young cock surging and twitching to lewd erection in her hand, exploding in a violent eruption of pleasure and spraying squirt after squirt of his innocent young sperm into the air. It was so beautiful, so beautiful ... and at the same time it was so sick and so terrible. And she was so evil!
"Oh, how did I ever let Adele talk me into that?" she said to herself aloud.
But she knew it wasn't entirely Adele's fault. It had been her own unnatural lust and craving that had finally driven her to commit this unnatural act; it would be she who would have to bear the consequences of her sin. And that was the worst part of all. How would she ever be able to go on living in this house with him her boy so close to her, with her want and her terrible guilt resting always like a heavy weight on her shoulders? How would she sleep alone at night knowing that he was so near, also alone in his bed? How would she ever sleep anywhere with the knowledge of this depraved thing she had done?
She tried to tell him at breakfast: "Stephan, I want you to understand that what happened last night was an accident. It can never happen again. We've got to live with it and maybe someday we will learn to live even more harmoniously together because of what we've done. But you, honey, you have to help me see that it doesn't happen again."
"But Mom. I want it to happen again."
"No! No. No. No." In her own voice she could hear the cutting edge of hysteria, and little flutters danced imposingly in her belly and loins as she felt Steve's searching eyes roving longingly over her body.
Then a pensive look came into his eyes and suddenly he stood up from the table. "I think I'll go out then."
Jean knew she should have felt relieved. Instead, she was plagued by a deep-rooted disappointment or even suspicion and it was all she could do to keep it from showing in her voice. "Where? Where are you going?"
"I dun no."
He left the house abruptly and without further explanation, leaving her feeling empty and alone in all her despair and guilt. And through the long slow morning she was plagued by another gnawing little worry. It was almost like jealousy. She would have given anything to know where he had gone.
Jean fixed herself a sandwich for lunch. She'd abandoned it, half-finished, when she heard the front door open and Adele's voice calling in, "Anybody home?"
"I'm in the kitchen," Jean replied.
A moment later her voluptuous blonde-haired neighbor came bustling in, clad in her usual around-the-house outfit consisting of tight shorts with a skimpy little halter to scarcely cover her voluminous breasts. The sexy blonde helped herself to a Coke from the refrigerator and settled down at the table.
"Wow, did I have a night last night. Pete was out on a drunk with a couple of his buddies from work. And I was out on a you-know-what with I bet you-know-who."
If Jean hadn't been able to guess she would have hardly cared. Right now Adele's free-swinging sex life was the least of her interests.
"And how was your night? Heard from Ed again?"
"No. I told him I didn't want to see him again. I'm afraid you wouldn't understand."
Adele smiled slyly, giving Jean the most terrible sensation that she did understand. Then the blonde said, "Stevie seems to have a lot on his mind this morning."
"You talked to Stephan?"
"He came by the house right after breakfast. How are things with you and your handsome son?"
"Did Steve say something to you about ... anything?" Jean blurted out too quickly, and immediately regretted it.
Adele smiled again. "Anything? What happened?"
"Nothing happened!"
"Well something happened. Otherwise why would he ask me that?"
"Ask you what?" It was all Jean could do to keep from giving way to complete hysterics.
"He just asked me something about handling women. He said that if there was a woman you knew wanted you, was it best to really go after her all the way or play hard to get, the same way girls are always playing with guys?"
"What ... did you tell him?"
"I told him to try a little of both. I told him there was nothing like another woman to make the first one come around. Then comes the good part."
She stopped and waited, almost tauntingly, until Jean urged her to continue. "All right, Adele. What's the good part?"
"Oh, it was so cute I could have died. He came around the table and put his hand on the back of my neck and looked down at me with this sort of adolescent Burt Reynolds look and said to me, 'You're a woman.' Just like that." She giggled. "Then he kissed me," Adele looked searchingly across the table into Jean's dark troubled eyes. "I wouldn't have told you, love, but I had the most distinct feeling he didn't want me to keep it secret."
"Then ... what happened," Jean croaked. "Then he left."
Jean sat in silence at the table for a moment, then slowly lifted her eyes. "Adele. Don't you start playing around with my son. I mean it!"
The look in Jean's eye was enough to erase Adele's smug smile from her face.
Later the distraught mother would tell herself that everything would have been different if she hadn't drunk nearly a quarter of the bottle of whiskey that afternoon while she waited for Stephan to come home. But then she would wonder how, if it hadn't been for the soothing effect of the alcohol, she could have even made it through the day.
Adele left her so upset and worried she could have screamed. She milled aimlessly around the house, took a shower to kill time and imagined what it would be like to have Stephan come in and scrub her back, the way his father had done sometimes. When she got out, her naked flesh dripping with dampness, she went to the bedroom and took a good long look at Tom's picture and cried, wondering if he could ever forgive her if he knew what she had done to his son. Then she turned to the whiskey, the stimulation of the alcohol seeming only to draw into sharper focus the vivid and shocking memories of what had happened between her and her son the night before. But at least the alcohol brought her out of her depression. She even managed to have a private little laugh about what Adele had told her about Stephan coming over to talk to her and make his little pass at her. She reminded herself that was exactly the way Tom had treated her, more than once. Of course this time it wouldn't work. She had made her vow of sexual abstinence regarding her son and she doggedly determined to keep it. But she could enjoy a kind of vicarious thrill from her son's show of promise.
By the time she heard the motor bikes roaring down the street toward the house, the slightly inebriated young widow was feeling downright giddy and flirtatious. She also experienced a certain alcohol-heightened sense of motherly responsibility, and as she got up to go to the door to meet her son, Jean reminded herself that though she could enjoy privately her knowledge of Stephan's attempt to use her friend Adele as a tool to manipulate her, she would have to exert her authority and make it very clear to him that he was not to fool around with the sexy blonde next door. Just because of what had happened last night, she wasn't going to let Stephan go stark raving wild at fourteen.
A warm alcohol glow lighting her face, Jean opened the door and stepped out on the porch. Evening had come; it was nearly dark and almost cool. She smiled at her son who stood talking to his two friends, still mounted on their bikes parked in the drive. Though they were only a couple of years older than Steve, their maturity showed in their faces. Bill Beamer, the larger of the two, smiled confidently back at her, his appreciation of Jean's sensuous body undisguised in his gaze. The other boy, Jimmy was his name if she wasn't mistaken, looked at her more cautiously. Steve, she noted, appeared to be intentionally ignoring her, probably as an extension of his little scheme.
"Hello Mrs. Clayton," Bill called. "Wanna go for a ride?"
"I'd love to," Jean said gaily, noting the sudden frown that crossed her son's face. She smiled with genuine pleasure. "Some other time," she added.
"You can ride behind me anytime you want," said Jimmy.
Stephan cleared his throat loudly. "I'll see you guys later," he said in invitation for them to leave. "I've got to get in and ... do a couple of things."
Jean took only half-conscious note of the slight sharpening of Bill Beamer's expression. Then he shrugged and smiled challengingly back at her. He bounced down on the starter pedal of his bike and the engine roared into action. Jimmy started his own and the two machines sped away back up the street.
Jean waited as Stephan walked toward her. When he came up the steps she put her hand affectionately on his shoulder. Seeing the flicker of hope in his eyes, she removed her hand and turned back through the door.
"Come onto the den, Stephan. I want to talk to you," she said, conscious that her drinking showed in her voice. She felt light-headed, slightly dizzy. She found herself thinking that she needed another drink.
Jean led her son into the den, where she took a seat on the couch and he came and sat down beside her, closer than she would have liked considering the subject she was determined to discuss with him. The whiskey bottle and her empty glass sat on the table before her. She contemplated them for a moment, then poured a short shot and drank it down quickly, grimacing slightly from the strong aftertaste. Stephan was watching her somberly, still hopefully. Then because of the alcohol, she smiled. She laboriously wiped the smile from her face, determined to look responsible and business-like. Then she smiled again.
"I know you were at Adele's after you left here this morning. You didn't say anything to her about ... last night?"
"Is that all you're worried about?"
Steve's words cut into her like a knife. "No. That's not all I'm worried about." She stared at him desperately, her composure slipping swiftly away. A few minutes ago she had been so sure of herself. She was going to take control of this whole terrible situation, she was going to take control of herself, and everything was going to be all right again. And now just sitting here so close to him on the couch, her mind reeling from the whiskey she'd imbibed, all her secret illicit longings were coming back even stronger than before. She needed him. God, she loved him so much and she had wronged him so terribly and still she wanted him so badly she could hardly stand it.
"That's not what I'm worried about," she repeated. "I just wanted to be sure. But..."
"But what, Mother?"
His emphasis on mother was another cruel little cut.
"I don't think Adele is a very good influence on you." It sounded so ludicrous, she thought after she'd said it. "You know what I mean. I don't want you going to Adele for advice like that."
"Who else am I supposed to go to? You weren't going to give me that kind of advice this morning."
He was right. He was so right about that. And that wasn't really what was worrying her anyway, not what was worrying her most. "I don't want you playing around with Adele!" she blurted out at last. "She told me you kissed her and that sort of thing. ... with a woman like Adele ... can only lead to trouble."
He looked at her thoughtfully. Then a faintly sardonic smile crept over his face. "I did more than kiss her."
Jean's hand lashed out of its own accord. She heard the loud crack of her palm on Stephan's cheek before she'd had time to think consciously of what she was doing. Her hand springing back, she watched in open-mouthed regret as the red imprint seemed to appear and disappear on his face. She saw the look of anger and hurt that filled his eyes. His lips quivered as he stared wounded back at her. A lump of tearful remorse swelled in her throat. Then she took him in her arms, hugging him to her breasts, showering kisses over his face and forehead as she felt his hands clutching hungrily at her breasts, as she felt his warm teasing breath on her neck.
She held him like that tightly for a long time, all her love and passion for him returning to almost overwhelm her with longing and want and need. She rocked him in her arms like a baby, then pushed him gently away, her tongue moistening her lips seductively as she stared, fever-eyed, down at his face. Then she sighed, low and deep. "What else did you do?"
"Hunh?"
"With Adele. I have to know."
He hesitated for a moment, then spoke quickly, "Well, I kissed her, she sort of pushed me away, so I went and she pulled me back and told me not to give up so easy. Then we sort of wrestled around and I was getting all excited and her ... that little thing like a bra she wears over her tits came off and she had me suck them and everything, though they're not as pretty as yours. And I was trying to get her to do what you did last night for me but she only did it on the outside of my pants until I got really hard. But I didn't tell her anything about last night. And then she stopped me and said we'd gone too far and you wouldn't approve."
Jean had only half-heard. She was remembering something else, before her son was even born. She remembered going to Adele because she had a feeling Tom was with another woman and she wanted to talk to her girl friend, and when she got to the door she heard Tom inside with her. Adele's words still echoed sometimes in her ears: "Oh eat me, Tom! Eat me like that! Eat my pussy!"
Jean blinked. She had drifted off. Stephan's eager face came back into focus. She looked at him for a moment. She turned away and poured another shot of whiskey and looked back at him. Right there she lost the fight, but she'd already almost ceased to struggle. She wasn't going to lose her son to Adele too. And maybe what he'd just told her wasn't even true. But if it wasn't an account of the past it was a prophecy of the future. Unless she did the only thing she could do to stop it!
"Stephan."
"Yes, Mom?"
"Do you want me? Would you like to do what we did last night again? Or do something even better?"
Stephan could hardly believe his ears. "Golly yes! That's all I've been thinking about all day long. That one time wasn't even almost enough."
"It wasn't enough for me either. Come on, lover.
Let's go to the bedroom."
"But ... ? " He touched her hand as she stood.
"Are we really going to do it? I mean, the real thing?"
She smiled. "It's all real, Stephan. But no, we're not going to go all the way. We can't do that because it wouldn't be right. But we're going to do something I think you'll like just as well."