She peeled her pants off one leg at a time. Placing the pair of pants on his computer chair opposite the bed, she was careful not to make any sound. They were piled on top of a neat stack of wash that she had folded for him the night before. She told him to put it away in his dresser, but her son never listened. It was like just because Monica was his stepmother he didn't take her instructions seriously.
Well, that was about to change. She smiled on the inside.
The tail of Monica's beige button-up shirt tickled her bare thighs as she turned back to her son's bed. Her nipples poked at her shirt as she lifted the sheet and comforter just high enough to slide one leg in, then the other before covering herself. Matt slept on his side facing away towards the wall. His wide, muscular back radiated heat on her like a furnace. After all these years it was easy to forget that her son was a grown man 18 years old and starting his last year of high school today.
Where does the time go? She thought.
Monica's outside hand rubbed up and down his shoulder, as he hovered over him. Matt was always a deep sleeper. He hummed and moved but didn't stir until his stepmother's hand rubbed down his side and plucked at the waistband of his boxers.
"Hm? What is..." he half turned but still had his eyes closed.
"Wake up, sleepy head," Monica whispered with a soft smile. The top buttons of her shirt were undone so the gold crucifix she always wore dangled below her chin and above his face. "You don't want to be late for your first day of school."
She planted kisses like a mother would on his forehead and cheek. Short pecks that lightly jabbed his warm flesh. But then a third kiss was placed on his neck that lingered and she tasted his salty flesh. Matt's body went rigid and she felt his hard abdomen tense as he tried to understand in his fog of sleep.
Matt thought he was sleeping still. This was a dream mixed with a fantasy. He'd jolt awake and hear the battleship siren he set for his alarm clock honking at him in no time and the rest of life's troubles would come after that. But it didn't Matt blinked his eyes three times and he still felt his mother's wet kisses on his neck and biting at his ear. The kisses no longer tickled but sent warm tingles down his spine and made him subconsciously open his neck to her. His mother's hand circled his belly and was looping under his naval now. He knew this couldn't have been his mother. She had never--would never--touch him like this. She was a prune who still forced him to go to church every Sunday and say prayers before dinner.
Monica felt her son startle and pull away from her. Pressing his head into the pillow and smushing the stuffing to the sides, his eyes went wide as he looked up at her.
