I knew what I looked like before the evening even began, but it was only by the end of the night that I knew that inside, I was exactly the same as the way that I appeared. Intrigued?
It had been a sweltering hot Friday, and now, at early evening, it was warm and humid. I'd finished getting ready for my night out with the girls, and was admiring my look in the full length mirror in the hallway when the doorbell rang. About time, I thought; any later, and I'd have missed him - and I doubt he's remembered his door key. My son was back from university for the weekend, for a night out celebrating his mate's 23rd birthday the following night. I had told him that I'd be out by seven, and he was pushing it. The doorbell went again. Impatient sod!
"Coming! Give me a minute!"
I opened the door wide. "And what time to you call this, young man, hmm?"
"Sorry mum." He replied, cheekily.
"Forget that - come in here and give your mother a hug."
He stepped inside and dropped his holdall by the door. Damn, I'd forgotten how handsome he was. I know absence makes the heart grow fonder, and a parent shouldn't be proud of how good their kids look, but...even though I'm his mother, I have to admit that as he's grown older, as a woman, I've found him attractive. Was that so bad? I'd asked myself this, ever more frequently over the last year or two.
He threw his arms around me, and as he hugged me tightly, I stroked the back of his hair. I leaned back a little to have a good look at him, my hands resting on his firm chest, his hands still on my waist.
"Have to say it, you look fantastic mum. Where are you off to?"
"Just into town, darling - a few pubs, you know?"
My hands slid down his chest as he moved his from my waist, and I turned to walk down the hall towards the kitchen. "Do you want a drink before I go, love? I've got five minutes before the cab's here - go on, sit yourself down."
"Go on then mum, twist my arm."
He filled me in on his journey as I hastily poured a couple of whiskey and cokes, and returned to the living room. I perched on the edge of an armchair, crossing one leg over the other and lit a cigarette. It was then that I noticed 'that look'. The look that I've occasionally seen in his eyes, and many a time in other men's. Sometimes, you just know when someone's giving you the 'once over'.
I smiled at him. "What?" I asked, coyly.
"Nothing... just admiring. I like your dress."
"Thanks."
"Very slinky..." He smiled, raising one eyebrow. "Very short." He smirked. I smiled back. It was slinky, and it was short. The classic little black dress, ending way up on my thighs, with a plunging neckline, and very little left to the imagination. I was glad that he liked the way I looked.
"And those boots...I love those boots. You look hot, mum."
That was the moment I felt it. That moment when there's a tingle in your pussy, and a rushing feeling inside you. That feeling - the knowing. When you know that you look and feel horny, and someone else acknowledges that you look that way.
"Are they a new pair?
I exhaled, and ran a hand over the shaft of one of my boots, stretching the leather as my foot made circle shapes in the air.
"I bought them a few weeks ago." I looked over at him. Those tight black jeans and white t-shirt showed his well-toned body off very, very well "You like them baby?"
Leather knee length boots. If a woman's wearing long high-heeled boots on one of the hottest days of the year, it can only be because she knows any or all of three things. One: she knows how good it feels to have the her legs hot and encased in soft leather. Two: she knows how good she looks...how fuckable she looks in those shiny black leather boots. Three: she knows what effect it has on a man.
He nodded and smiled.
For a split second, my son's eyes gave him away. I was having that effect. Here I was, dressed - quite frankly - like a slut, and for a moment at least, I knew that he liked it. I busied myself, collecting together my purse, cigarettes, change and keys. Maybe I'd had one too many drinks to get me in the going-out mood, that's all. Or maybe that was just an excuse - I knew that I'd teased, almost flirted with him like this in the past. I pushed it aside.
Outside, a car horn sounded.
