Maybe it was only about trying to drown the sorrow that Saturday, out all night with my girlfriends; alone with the secret sensation, that continued to resonate between my legs, from the thought of the line I couldn't wait to cross.
While we drank, laughed, flirted and teased our way through shots, dinner and the best club, I remember the moment my chest heaved and my throat ached and I confidently held myself together, conflicted and yet convinced, there was no other sensation I wanted more than taking JD's breath away.
I heard the tap of my heels break the 3am silence, fiddled, and watched my keys fall. I smiled at the baby blue toe nail polish and visualized my plan for seduction.
I knew from the cars in the driveway, both JD and his dad were home.
The porch lights were on and I could see the outline of my breasts, through the sheer black fabric of my blouse, in the reflection on the leaded-glass picture windows, encased by the double front doors.
I waited outside like a stray cat; looked up at the wood blinds behind JD's open bedroom window, and aligned myself in the role of wife, mother and my cherished son's insistent lover.
The flicker of light from behind the blinds made me shiver with excitement, the guilt and sorrow released its grip on my shoulders, the hair on the back of my neck relaxed, and I purred a sigh of intoxicated relief at the sight of JD's bare chest and inquisitive stare, that focused on my eyes, rolled down off my lips, breasts, hips and landed on the keys just beyond my toes.
"Hello mother, here, take my hand."
I looked into his hands, let the tips of my fingers feel the calluses, follow the path of his outstretched arms and then reached up and held onto the back of his neck.
