Mum encouraged me to learn how to drive when I turned sixteen and we enjoyed going out together, another reason for our bond to grow even closer. Granted, it wasn’t always easy as, being a teenager, I thought I knew everything already, and Mum couldn’t help occasionally being frustrated by my sometimes inability not to listen and take instructions.
Working the hours that she did, most of my learning was done on my own at school and through studying though she’d occasionally walk in the front door and into the kitchen to find me at the dining room table, books spread everywhere as I was doing my best to soak everything in. When I was really stuck, I’d poke her brain, to see if she could help me. More often than not, she’d at least guide me in the right direction.
Obtaining my licence just after I turned seventeen led to Mum surprising me with my own car. It was second-hand, but it would be reliable, cheap to run and the only driving I’d really do would be to and from school, and also to and from the part-time job I’d picked up when turning sixteen.
“You’re such a responsible young man now,” Mum stated over dinner one evening. I felt myself blush as she added, “I love how much you’ve contributed to the house since your father left.”
“Are you interested in dating again now?” I wondered, “I mean, the divorce was a while ago now…”
Mum smiled at me. “No, I’m not interested, Mark. The only man in my life at the moment is my son. Once you’re eighteen, I might give it some thought, but to be honest, I don’t think I’m missing much anyway. When I want love and affection, I know you’re always available for hugs and kisses. I’m glad you’re still not embarrassed showing how much you love your mother.”
“I made you a promise, Mum.”
“I remember, baby,” she whispered, “That meant so much to me that night.”
During that year, Dad met another woman. He’d had a couple of temporary relationships over the years, but when he met Candice, he seemed to genuinely fall in love with her and it was only a couple of months after they met that I was introduced to her. She was at least ten years younger than my father, and he was over five years older than my mother. I didn’t miss the fact she was definitely closer to me in age than either of my parents.
She was absolutely gorgeous and, to my impressionable young mind, far too good for my father. After meeting her a couple of times, Mum couldn’t resist asking a few questions. When I described her physically and added that she was a genuinely nice person, Mum couldn’t help but grumble.
“I mean, I have a feeling she doesn’t know the whole story about the divorce,” I suggested, “If she were to learn that Dad was cheating on you for years…”
Mum smirked but shook her head. “No, baby,” she finally insisted, “We won’t get involved like that.”
“Even though she would deserve to know the truth. Considering Dad lied to you for years…”
“You too, baby. He lied to you too. He lied to us. He blew off more than a few things that he should have been at so he could be with his mistress. I know you haven’t forgotten nor totally forgiven…”
“Hard to completely trust the man after what he did, but he’s my father, and I won’t fault him for the fact he’s still trying, that he still wants a relationship with me.”
“You’re our only child and you’re his son. In a way, you’re his legacy. I know you’re going to do good things in your life, and your father will definitely want to crow about that in the future.”
“So Candice…”
“If she’s as sweet as you say, just be her friend, and maybe even be there for her when your father inevitably breaks her heart too.”
By the time I was seventeen, there was no real custody arrangement, agreeing with my father that I’d drive over to see him at least once a week. Candice wasn’t living with him that early in the relationship, so it was generally just time for us to catch up. Weekends were not really possible once I started part-time work and I was still playing sports on a Saturday morning.
I turned eighteen during my final year in high school and was the oldest of my small friend group of four of us by at least six months. None of them would be eighteen until after the holiday period and into their first year at university, if they chose to attend. That meant I had no one to really celebrate my eighteenth birthday with.
Except my mother, who insisted that she would treat me to a night out. I guess my hesitation was expected as Mum woke me up early on my birthday with a kiss on the cheek, sitting on the edge of my bed. By this time, I towered over her in a way and my body had slowly developed. Mum fed me well and I kept fit thanks to sport and working manual labour for my part-time job.
“When you finish school on Friday, come home and I’ll try and get out of work as early as possible. I’ve booked reservations at one of our favourite places to eat then I’m taking you to a pub so you can order your first drinks legally then I’m thinking you can take your mother to a club. Would you like that, baby?”
“You’re serious? You want to go to a club?”
“I think we’ll have a great time together, baby.”
I couldn’t help smiling as I knew it wasn’t the sort of place that she would want to visit usually. Even on the rare nights out she spent with her friends, it was usually at someone’s house where they could simply drink wine and gossip. From what I knew, all of her friends were also divorced at least once.
“Okay, Mum. I’d love to go out with you.”
That earned one hell of a cuddle. “Thank you, baby. You know how to make your mother a very happy woman.”
“Well, if I’m your man, then you’re my girl, right?”
She leaned back and dazzled me with a gorgeous smile. “I guess I have been your girl for the past few years. I can’t remember being happier.”
“Good thing I don’t plan on moving out while I’m at university too.”
“You don’t have to move out even after graduating from there, baby. This is our home.” Kissing my cheek, she quickly added, “Now time to get up, showered, dressed and ready for school. And I now have something to look forward to on Friday.”
Mum practically floated around the house the next couple of days and nights, humming to herself with a near-constant smile on her face. It was positively infectious as she had long loved snuggling up to me when we watched television together in the evening. Each night ended with a kiss on the cheek and a long cuddle, ensuring that affection never wavered.
My father got a handshake when we met up and parted later. He’d never been the most openly affectionate or emotional of people anyway.
Arriving home from school on Friday afternoon, I laughed to myself as Mum had departed for work after I left and had already organised what I should wear. There was a note for me on top.
I want my date to look as handsome as possible for me tonight.
Love Madeline xxx
Signing her name instead of ‘Mum’ or ‘Mother’ was a surprise but hearing that she considered it a date wasn’t any real surprise. She hadn’t been on one since her husband walked out on her, and I hadn’t had any long-term girlfriends throughout high school. Not to say I hadn’t dated, but I didn’t see the point of being with one girl for most of my time at high school. I didn’t buy into high school sweethearts and only being with one person for life. How could you possibly know at sixteen that this was the same person you’d want to be with when you turned forty?
I heard Mum announce her arrival home as I was in the shower. Hearing her knock on the bathroom door, she told me that she’d shower in her ensuite and get ready in her bedroom, meeting me in the living room when she was ready.
After dousing my body in deodorant, I got dressed in the clothes she picked out, including a pair of polished shoes. Mum had bought me a great watch for my birthday, and I also dabbed a little cologne in certain parts. Grabbing my wallet, keys and phone, I waited in the living room for my mother to appear.
She appeared half an hour later and took my breath away in an instant. The red dress was moulded to her womanly curves, her shoulders bare, and her breasts must have been held up by the tightness of her dress or the sort of bra that was also without shoulder straps. The hem of her dress ended just above her knees, left thinking she was wearing thigh-high stockings and the heels helped her height by around three inches as well.
“Holy shit!” I finally exclaimed.
“Language, young man,” Mum stated with a chuckle as I met her green eyes. She never took off her glasses except for sleeping and I assumed showering, but her lips were almost the same colour as her cheek, feeling the scent of her perfume and shampoo when she kissed my cheek, “But I’m glad you approve.”
“Mum… Jesus… You’re gorgeous…”
“Thank you, baby. Had to look hot for my date tonight. How do I look for a woman nearing forty?”
“Mum, every single man wherever we go tonight is going to be jealous because you’re on my arm.”
She immediately started to blink rapidly, worried that I’d said the wrong thing. Then she moulded her body against mine, feeling her D-cup breasts (I did laundry and was curious about her size) press into me. “I love you so much, baby. Thank you for being with me all the time,” she whispered, hearing her breath shudder.
“Thanks for taking me out tonight.”
“My pleasure. Now, are you ready to escort your date outside as the taxi should arrive soon? I’m not driving as I want to enjoy a drink or two in the company of my young date for the evening.”
The restaurant Mum selected was somewhere we’d only been a couple of times. We both enjoyed a steak with all the trimmings, but it was also the sort of place not exactly designed for families with young children, so the ambience was just perfect for us to enjoy dinner and light conversation without too much noise in the background.
Dinner was fantastic, Mum taking my hand as she led me to a pub a few streets away. I was carded as expected when ordering a glass of wine for her. She wasn’t stupid and knew I’d dabbled with alcohol before legally allowed. Didn’t like the taste of beer, told by more than one person that it was a taste acquired with age, but I did thoroughly enjoy the taste of apple cider.
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