Michael

Leigh entered her son’s bedroom with her arms full of cleaning products and dragging the vacuum behind her. She could trust her son to keep his room relatively tidy, but liked to pop in every two weeks or so to go over it thoroughly. He was a teenager after all, albeit nearly 20.

Leigh looked about. Most of his stuff was off the floor, which was always a good start. No dirty washing left lying about, another plus point. She looked to his easel. He had been painting again, and recently, she could tell. His art materials were everywhere, spread around his work area in a semi-circle. She walked over to see what he had been painting this time.

Staring back at her, was the image of a Mediterranean looking woman. She was reaching up to pick some plums with one hand, whilst her other hand, held a wide-brimmed hat; by the looks of things, as a receptacle for the plums. But more than just a young woman picking fruit, the image was also a young man’s fantasy. Her son had painted her in quarter-profile, her long, golden legs, showed the muscle detail perfectly, as the woman stood on tip-toe in her light summer shoes. But as she strained at full stretch, struggling to reach a high plum, so too was her thin cotton, flower print dress, struggling to contain the roundness of her very pert bottom, which was just peeking out beneath the hem. Michael had included the smallest glimpse of the girls white panties. Her firm, ripe breasts, were also giving the dress some issues it would appear, for several of the buttons seemed to have succumbed to the pressure and had popped open to reveal an enticing view of her cleavage and Leigh noted, that picking plums, was obviously an exciting pastime for the woman, judging by the large erections topping her thrusting breasts.

The woman’s deep blue, attractive eyes, were peering through the veil of her almost coal-black hair, intently staring back at the viewer, or perhaps more accurately the artist; portraying more of an interest in him, than in the plums. Leigh suddenly felt a stab of envy, or maybe jealousy, run through her body. She had no idea where it came from, or where it went to, just as quickly. But she had felt it none-the-less.

She was stunned by the beauty of the picture. It was a fantastic study, a deeply detailed and accurate portrayal. Perfectly composed, down to the subtle lighting that in places made the young woman’s dress almost transparent, and therefore all the more alluring. In all, a very sexy and therefore commercial, piece of work, should he consider selling it. She was impressed how his drawing and painting had come on, since being at art college, it was obviously doing him some good. Though she did suddenly ask herself, if the model in this picture was a real person, and maybe someone that Michael knew. Because if it was, then Michael had an admirer, she could tell just by looking into the woman’s eyes.

Leigh glanced about the room. There were many sketches some of still life, some of landscapes, but his best work was figure work. In that she could see his passion and his energy. He never seemed to be quite content with these pieces though, and would always return to them, adding more, as his technique and experience grew, along with his confidence.

She would often stop and look at his work, to see if she could notice any changes; pride often swelling her chest, at the quality of his work, and the sheer number of pieces that he was turning out. He was indeed a prolific artist. She noticed too, that he was beginning to settle on a particular style of painting. Fantasy art, he called it. Sword and sorcery, alien worlds, mythical beasts, where all of the men and women in his pictures were scantily clad and perfect specimens of humanity. She had reminded him that reality was not like that. And as a consequence, he had begun to add older, less disingenuous characters to his pieces. Creating another layer of interest and realism.

Having completed the dusting, as best she could without disturbing too much. She stripped his bed clothes, and opened the window, to let in a bit of fresh air. She then plugged in the vacuum and ran it over the rugs that coved the hardwood floor. As she was running the suction tube, with a small attachment on it; under his bed. It quickly became blocked. Suspecting that she had picked up a sock, she turned off the machine and started to pull apart the suction pipes to see if she could find the blockage.

She finally came across it at the curve of the pipe, where it entered the machine. It was quickly obvious, that it was not a sock.

The black, silken material was in fact a stocking. And if she was not mistaken, judging by the stocking top, and filigreed lacework, interspersed with red roses; this was one of her stockings. She had not worn stockings for many months, but recognised this one instantly. Leigh was intrigued as to how it had gotten to be under Michael’s bed. Had she dropped it when she had collected the washing those months previous? Surely she would have found it by now? And there was no way that she would have put the pair to this stocking away in her lingerie draw, without its partner?

She knelt down on the hardwood floor and peered under the bed. She wasn’t expecting to find much, other than a collection of the usual rubbish and dust that seems to accumulate under a bed. Leigh was pleasantly surprised however, to find the area was quite clean, apart from a large A3 drawing pad, and what appeared to be an old shoe box. Drawing them out, she put them on the bed, then she sat down on it herself. Intrigued at what was in the box, thinking it might be some of the stuff he had collected as a kid, she opened that first. Immediately, the contents of the box made her heart sink.

Michael had been without a father for the last 9 years. Whilst Leigh had had a few lovers in that time, none had stayed long enough to even begin to get close to Michael in a fatherly sort of way. So she had tried to be both his mother and his father. Looking at the box contents, suddenly made her feel that she had missed the mark on that objective by a wide margin.

Leigh pulled out the matching stocking to the one that she had sucked up the vacuum. Underneath it, she found a suspender belt. Again it was hers and again, she had not worn it for some time. For that matter, Leigh couldn’t even remember when the last time was that she had seen it. But the black and red, lacey piece of lingerie, had certainly been one of her favoured pieces. She had found the sheerness of the panels in it, both flattering and very sexy.

Lifting out the suspender belt, she then found three pairs of her panties. The sexy ones, rather than the every-days. There was also an unopened pair of silk stockings, and two packs containing body stockings, one black, the other blood red. These were definitely not hers. She had never seen a body stocking before, let alone worn one.

She knew that Michael was a very sensitive young man, most artists were. But she was not prepared for the fact that he liked to dress up in women’s lingerie; her lingerie to be precise. For that was the only conclusion that she could come up with, to explain his ‘little collection’. She was aware that this sort of thing was far more openly discussed these days, and that Michael had every right to do what he wanted to do. She was just not sure how she should handle it herself? How she would even broach the subject with him? Did it matter to her that he might be a transvestite? Of course it didn’t. But Leigh knew enough about the world, to know it was a cruel place, a place where social media destroyed lives. Were even a rumour could become a vicious attack on someone’s character.

Leigh sat there on Michael’s bed, contemplating her next move. It only began to dawn on her, that to have procured these items of her lingerie, he must have been searching through her lingerie draw. And if he had done that….. she put her hand to her mouth and then said, “Oh Michael, what have you been up to?” She was thankful that she had not found a box full of recreational drugs, but was partly thinking that would be easier to deal with than what she had exposed. Either way, this was new territory for her.

For now, she felt the best thing to do was nothing. So put the things, including her suspender belt, back in the box. She left out the single stocking and checked over the one that had been sucked up whilst hoovering, to ensure that it had no snags or runs. As it was fine, she elected to wash them both and maybe she could then return them to him, saying that she had found them under his bed. Hopefully it might then start a conversation?

Feeling a little happier now, she put the box down and picked up his large pad, laying it across her legs. She knew that he had put the pad under his bed for a reason. That reason was to hide it from her. In opening it, she would be breaking the bond of trust that she thought she had with her son. And that once done, there was no going back from that. But a woman’s curiosity, was a hungry beast, and at the moment, it was ravenous. Plus, the thought dashed through her brain, how would he know? Her fingers hovered over the outer cover as she pondered for one last time about breaking Michael’s trust, then she concluded that he had also broken her trust by searching in her knicker draw, so this would make it even. She looked down to find that her hand, had made the decision for her anyway, and had already opened the pad.

On the first page in stark refined detail, were a pair of male legs. The muscle definition was, she felt, incredible. The detail and subtle lighting and shading, made the legs look almost three dimensional. The powerhouses of this man’s body were obviously well developed and by the looks of the large veins apparent on the surface of the muscle, had been recently worked hard. The firmness of the flesh could almost be felt; so realistic did it look. The same thighs, had been rendered by Michael a number of times on this page, each example, meticulously drawn. Leigh was impressed, not just by the drawing, but by the man’s legs.