"Omigod, you two are SO much alike."
Mike and I were on our third beer when Amy arrived home. She stood in the doorway and stared at both of us in turn when she saw us sitting at the kitchen bench , then she pretended to rub her eyes with both her fists as if she was having double-vision, then looked again and shook her head.
"That's so scary. You could almost be brothers."
"Except I'm the good-looking one," said Mike.
"He got the good-looking bits from his mother," I said, pleased at Amy's surprised reaction at meeting my son for the first time.
"I can't see any bits that aren't good looking from where I'm standing," said Amy provocatively but tongue-in-cheek.
She walked towards him, and he stood up politely, holding his hand out to shake hers. She went straight past his hand, held him by his biceps, and kissed him on both cheeks, European style.
"I'm Amy, in case your Dad hasn't told you about me."
I don't remember him mentioning you at all, come to think of it," said Mike, playing along with her. "What was your name again?"
"Sam, come here, I want to slap you!"
"You warned me she might get violent," Mike said to me.
"And you're next!" said Amy, laughing,.
I could tell she was pleased and relieved that Mike was not tense or awkward at meeting her. I had told her that he was hoping to be home for Christmas with us, but she didn't know when he was coming. I kept his arrival a surprise because I knew she would stress about how Mike would feel about her and his Dad living together in the house that held so many memories of his mother, but I also knew she would handle it fine if it was just sprung on her. I wasn't worried about Mike, he was more than mature enough to cope, and I was sure he would come to like her as soon as he got to know her, and I was right.
"I'm glad you're home," I said. "Mike and I had just starting saying 'do-you-remember-when' to each other, so now's a good time to take a break from catching up, and he's probably as hungry as I am."
"What, you think I'm going to cook for you both like a good girl should? Dream on."
"No, I thought I'd take two of my favourite people in the whole world out to dinner."
"Right answer," said Amy. "I'd better go and get ready."
"She really can cook," I said to Mike, when Amy had left the room to go freshen up. "Very well, in fact."
"From what you've told me, I doubt there's much that she doesn't do well," said Mike, already impressed with my lovely girl.
I hadn't seen Mike since he went back to University at the beginning of the year, but we talked on the phone every couple of weeks. I had told him about Amy, how she had transformed my work, how much she had come to mean to me, and about her – our – somewhat unorthodox lifestyle. Well, not everything about it, but I had always preferred to be open and honest with him, so I didn't leave much out, and he was never easily shocked. Jeannie and I had raised both of the twins not to be judgmental but to treat people as they found them, and I knew he would do just that with Amy.
That first evening we spent out together after Mike came home was the best fun I'd ever had in Amy's company without her being naked. She was in sparkling form over dinner, and once she realized that Mike already knew about some of our adventures she kept us both in fits of laughter retelling some of our stories from her point of view, which meant they were told with a lot of embellishment, although by contrast, there were things she left out, and some she hardly mentioned. Tracey, for instance, was relegated to a very minor role, Buckingham was just one of the many staff at Fantasia, and although the recent afternoon at the mall was recounted in some detail, she left out the bit about sucking my dick for the whole length of Commercial Street in the rush hour. Mike was a good audience, concentrating on her every word, and in return, he was emboldened by her candour to respond with some stories of his own, recounting incidents he had been involved in that only a few short years ago he would have died rather than admit to with either of his parents in the room.
I had always imagined that Amy and Sally would get on together well, but Mike's opinion about anything had always harder for me to predict. I was a little disappointed that Sally had chosen to spend Christmas skiing with her boyfriend's family rather than coming home with Mike to meet Amy, but I was pleased that there was an easy rapport between my lover and my son. I put that down to Mike and Amy being the same generation, and I enjoyed sitting back and admiring both of them, letting someone else do most of the listening and some of the talking for a change. Amy had not dressed that night to be provocative, to be particularly sexy, but she just couldn't help it. Her effect on me was always pretty much the same no matter what she wore. She could give me an erection wearing a potato sack.
When she spoke, her lips and tongue danced close to each other to shape the air blown out by her ribs and made audible by the muscles in her throat. When she smiled, her eyelids widened to reveal the blue-white surrounds to her blue-green pupils, her cheeks creased near the corners of her mouth, and tiny crinkles appeared at the corners of her eyes. When she laughed I could see the wet soft palate and the quivering uvula at the back of her mouth, both of which knew what it felt like to be brushed aside by my desire-hardened penis.
Amy spoke with her hands like an Italian, and her t-shirt, stretched one way and then the other by the twists of her torso and the gestures of her arms, was alternately loose and flowing or wrapped tight against the undulations of her body. The bulging side of her breast where it met her ribcage and the shallow dome of her nipple with its embossed central stud pressed themselves momentarily against of the inside of the material, then vanished again as she made another conversational point in a mixture of words and body language. As she spoke, sometimes our eyes collided, and she knew that I was watching her, observing her, claiming her, savouring her. From time to time she would reach up with one hand to gather an errant strand of hair and tuck it behind her ear. It was a gesture that allowed her middle finger to outline the ear's whole shape then gently travel halfway down her neck before lifting itself away. It was a gesture of such casual sensuality it almost made me faint.
Mike was a media communications student so he was very interested in the photographs Amy told him I had taken during the 'showtime' escapades. At home later that evening I offered to show them to him, but he made a point of politely asking Amy's permission first, even though he was not expecting her to object.
"Do you mind if Dad shows me his pictures of you when you are out in public naked? I'll understand if you don't want me to see them."
"Do I mind? Absolutely not," said Amy, glad to have been asked, because it gave her an excuse to bring up an issue that had been on her mind. "In fact, I wanted to ask you something, too. I expect Sam has told you about how we don't normally wear clothes at home, and it will be a hard habit to break. I'll try to remember to stay dressed, if you prefer, but it would be a lot easier if I didn't have to be careful all the time – if that's OK with you.
"Amy, if it's OK with Dad, whatever you want to do is fine with me."
"Sam?"
"My darling, I didn't imagine you would suddenly become coy, just because Mike's here. He's a big boy, he'll cope."
"Is that right?" she said with a smirk. "We'll see."
