It's good to have Ben home for Christmas break. I'd always liked the kid since his dad and I married two years ago; so polite and attentive, always worked hard at school, and the fact that he shared his dad's icy blue eyes, disarming smile, and long, lanky body meant he could always get on my good side. I call him a kid – at 22, he's actually closer to my 35 years than I am to his dad's 60 – but he has always treated me respect. He's been away at his first year of med school in Seattle, and we just don't get to see him as much as we like.
Besides, this is the first time he's met his little brother! I was very pregnant last Christmas, and had Max this spring... he's 8 months old now and just started to get a mouthful of teeth. He's adorable, and I love seeing his big brother pick him up and make him laugh. They both have those gorgeous blue eyes, too. I know they won't grow up as siblings, but I'm glad my son has such a great big brother.
Dan's working nights at the ER this week, so I asked Ben to join me for dinner after I put Max down, just to get to know each other better. He's brought some craft beers from Washington, and since I know he doesn't get much home cooking, I've made lamb and roast root veggies. For some reason, I was a little nervous and excited about this little dinner... maybe because I don't get out much with the baby. I put on a pretty green satin blouse and black pencil skirt, put my hair up and threw on some of my favorite perfume. I'm trying to wean Max now that he's getting all those teeth, but my breasts are still full and strain the front of my blouse more than they did before. Still, it's a nice outfit that feels right for a holiday dinner.
***
I can't believe my dad's wife is making me dinner, walking around the kitchen in that tight skirt and heels, her apron only covering the middle of her shirt, showing the outlines of those gorgeous tits shining in green satin! I give her a smile and raise the 6 pack in my right hand in greeting as I sit down at the counter barstool. "You drinking?" I ask her... last year, she stuck to Perrier.
"I'd love one!" she tell me. "I just quit nursing your little brother, so I don't even need to feel guilty!" I swallow and almost blush... any direct reference to her breasts leaves me very conflicted. I pour her a nice IPA into a glass she pulls from the freezer, and she gives me a big smile and lifts it to her red lips. I watch her relax as the first dram pours into her mouth and she closes her eyes... I think she needs this. And my mind can't help but wondering what else she needs.
***
I've been working at home most of the time as a compromised maternity-leave, and I think I've been starved for company. Having Ben is delightful! I laugh as he tells me all about med school, remembering when I was in college a decade ago. The beer is nice – it had been awhile. The meal turned out well; I forgot how much young men eat and was glad to see him put away 4 lamb chops, and then chew the bones.
I was so relaxed with the warm company and that I didn't notice right away... my breasts had been hard all day, but now the right nipple started tingling, little pin pricks that let me know I was about to have a problem. Ben was telling a story, so I just put my napkin to my chest and tried to listen... but there was no way I was going to hide this soon. I forgot that beer increases lactation! Damn! I turn quickly away and say, "Ben, I'm going to have to leave you for a bit, I'm really sorry!" and then quickly walk upstairs. The front of my blouse is milk-stained, and I am mortified. If this sweet young man sees it, he's probably going to be disgusted! I'm hoping I can get upstairs and change before he notices.
***
She just left! I don't know if the story I told offended her... college life can be raunchy compared to her suburban world... but I tried to keep it fairly clean. I pick up the rest of my beer and neck it, and decide to see what's wrong.
