Rex Taylor: Mother lover

Chris was in the living room finishing his beer when Don walked in. "Feels nice," Don said. "If I could just engineer a way to air condition the distance from the carport to the front door, I wouldn't have to suffer a moment's discomfort."

"Can't have everything, I guess," Chris noted.

"Looks like you're on the way, though. The girl. Who is she? I don't remember seeing her around before.

"Oh, that's Cathy. I just met her today. She's okay."

"Sure is," Don agreed. "You get into her yet?" Chris grinned. "That's telling. But, since we're old buddies, and not just any father and son, the answer is "Bet your ass!"

They had a good relationship, with no secrets and no need to have any. Chris knew the score, and if Don brought home a lady to enliven his weekend, there was no need to hide the fact from his son. Chris knew what would be going on in his father's bedroom and after the lady had gone her way, the father and the son might sit down for a friendly beer and discuss her appearance and performance. They hadn't progressed as far as sharing girls yet, although a few of Chris' teenaged female friends certainly did affect Don right in the old gonads.

And this girl was right up at the top of the list as far as gonad-affecting wept, Don had to admit. She was easily a doll, and her body seemed to have been assembled for no other purpose than to turn guys on. "How was she?" Don asked.

"Good enough I'm going back for thirds tomorrow," Chris beamed.

"You mean seconds."

"I mean thirds. I had seconds today."

Don shook his head, whistling appreciatively. "That's my boy." Your mother would be proud of you, too, he thought with a sardonic chuckle. Chris' mother had been a women's libber well before the title had been invented. If only she were there now to see her husband and their son shooting the shit about said son's nooky-hunting. She'd crap her drawers.

"I have a surprise for you, darling," Gwen told her daughter as they dawdled over a late-morning breakfast.

Cathy stirred her coffee uncuriously. "They want you to turn your article into a full-length book?" she suggested in a flat voice.

"Wish they would," Gwen mused. "We could always use some extra money. Actually, though, I finished it last night after you went off to bed so early, just like the little girl who had a busy day. Maybe tonight I'll rewrite the conclusion. Parts of it still don't satisfy me. But for now, the script goes into an envelope for a well-deserved rest. So, what would you like to do today? It all belongs to us.

She wasn't prepared for the stunned look she saw on Cathy's face. My God, Gwen thought. It's almost as if she doesn't want to spend any time with ma Surely I can't be such a poor second to that girl from down the beach. "Is something wrong, dear?" she asked in concern.

Cathy shook her head. "No," she said tonelessly. If I live to be as old as Methusaleh, I will not understand children, Gwen fumed. My daughter, eighteen and beautiful, and we're like strangers. She knew that part of it was her own fault. She had left Cathy to the care of strangers during the most

difficult years a young girl could face, but what else could she have done? If she hadn't gone off on the assignments handed out by the magazine, there wouldn't have been enough money to give a young girl a proper upbringing. And she certainly couldn't have taken Cathy along. No, she had done the only suitable thing-she had found good schools for her daughter, and she had gone out to earn them both a living.

It was all going to be different now, of course. The D.C. job would insure them a home together, their first in nine years, and they had all the time in the world to become a combo once again. They were already making, a good start. They were on a firm and friendly first-name basis, and it would get much, much better.

Yes, Gwen Corby had come a long, long way, and she wasn't a bit modest about it. Had she really once been a frightened, bulge-bellied bride, reciting nervously a set of vows in front of a country justice of the peace, trying desperately to rectify the only big mistake she'd, ever made?

Maybe it hadn't been a mistake after all. That pregnancy, that marriage were both far in the past, but she had Cathy as a living, souvenir of an otherwise miserable experience. She had created that lovely life, and she had worked her ass off to make sure that Cathy's existence could indeed be lovely and untroubled.

And now Cathy was eighteen. Gwen could remember being eighteen. Twenty years ago, and sometimes it seemed like no more than last month. They'd have to talk soon, talk about many things. Especially sex. Of course Cathy knew the rudiments of the subject. But there were things Cathy would need to know. All about the Pill, for one thing. Gwen had no intention of seeing her daughter trapped the way she had been, and she had decided only recently that soon a Cathy turned eighteen, she would do the proper motherly thing and present the girl with her own supply of birth-control pills, just in case. And with them a frank and open discussion of the facts of love. The fairness and candor of her decision made Gwen smile approvingly as she looked across the table at her daughter.

"Better hurry, darling," she smiled. "The sun will be gone before you know it."

Cathy rolled her eyes in reply, rising from the table with unbelievable slowness. She already had on her bikini-she seemed to wear little else here on the Wand-and it transformed her willowy, graceful figure into a creation of inutterable beauty.

Gwen stood up, too, slipping off her house robe. She had intended to surprise Cathy with the revelation that she, too, was already suited up for the beach, but the girl scarcely noticed. This was unfortunate, for Gwen Corby's figure, displayed in her own bikini, was much more attractive than her daughter had ever bothered to appreciate. Gwen, like her child, was built on a lithe, tall frame and now in her late thirties, she was truly at the prime of her life. Her chest was lusciously developed, creamy, full tits almost spilling out of the skimpy bra top, while her waist was trim, flaring out into a pair of svelte, shapely hips and long, athletic legs. Her hair was only slightly retouched in its blondeness, while her eyes were limpid blue of a shade that put to shame the azure of the heavens. Gwen's mature good looks were perhaps the best possible proof that Cathy's eighteen-year-old blooming was no flash in the pan but instead an indication of even better things to come.

Gwen shrugged and slipped out her short beach coat. She opened her purse and began to search for

her sunglasses while Cathy slouched with her back leaning upon the front door. There was a sharp "rat-tat-tat" on the outside of the door, and Cathy jumped, whirling round frantically at the sound.

Her eyes went round in surprise, then blinked shut as she offered up a prayer of thanksgiving. "Hi, Jen!" she gushed so enthusiastically her caller was taken aback. Gwen moved towards the door, smiling her own greeting.

"Gods," Cathy moaned, turning to her mother. "I absolutely forgot all about Jennifer, Gwen! I promised her I'd help her look for seashells today."

Gwen looked at the girl on the other side of the screen door. Jennifer nodded agreeably.

"Oh, I see," was all she said, and that in a disappointed voice. She let her hand drop, and the sunglasses bumped her smooth thigh.

"Yeah," Jennifer was saying. "We were gonna hunt seashells for my collection. I have a whole lot of them," she added in a flash of inspiration. She wondered what the fuck Cathy was up to.

The girls walked down the driveway, Cathy skipping into the lead as if her sandals were aflame. She led the way across the two-lane asphalt highway and up the dune which rose between sea and sound there at the narrowest portion of the island.