Key West was a great place to grow up, for me and Michael. You might get tired of the jugglers and fire-eaters at Mallory Square, but you could never get tired of the sunsets. So many kinds, from the tiger skies of orange, with their stripes of black clouds, to the fiery red flames surrounding the hot eye of heaven as it eased itself into the cooling ocean waters.
I moved here sixteen years ago with a three year old boy, fresh divorce papers and an empty wallet. The best thing that happened when I arrived was getting a Job at Kiki's, the hamburger place on Duval Street. I worked eight to ten hours a day, near a grill, without air conditioning, for minimum wage. The good part was that as the years went on, I became the manager and ultimately, the owner let me buy Kiki's without having to put too much money down. It was a struggle, and with my son Michael's help, we made enough to get by, until three years ago when he had two ideas. They changed our lives and our fortunes.
It's amazing how something small can balloon. Neither idea was e=mc2, but the explosion for us was as monumental. The first was a hamburger that put the trimmings inside. To make things easier, Michael mixed the gravy, onions, and mushrooms with the ground beef before grilling the patties. After only a month, it accounted for three quarters of our hamburger sales. The other idea was to put Key Lime juice in homemade whipped cream and put it between the layers and then on top of Key Lime Pies that we bought at Publix supermarket. The Kiki Burger and the Kiki Lime Pie were born.
It started with the locals, and with their recommendations to the tourists, our business blossomed. We only had two tables inside and four outside under an awning, but it wasn't the eat-in business that made us. After a local TV station did a story, people were coming by in droves to take out whole pies. People were calling me Kiki instead of Jennifer, but that was okay, as long as they bought pies. And they did buy pies. And the pies bought us a car and a small condo.
Of course we had to put on more help. We hired a few locals and a student from Lithuania, named Margit, who Michael knew from Key West Community college where he was going. They were in their last year of the Marine Engineering program. She was very sweet and greeted me with a kiss every morning. She had a cute accent and she called me Momma Kiki.
So why am I telling my story here? Well there is certainly a sexual component that's unusual, at least to me. I guess we all have sexual stories to tell, but all of mine were quite ordinary, until last year. I'd slept with five men in my whole life. And I'm not counting my husband, because that was just a horror show and I wouldn't tell that story to anyone. Not because it's wild or dramatic, but because it's so boring. And for me it would be like bringing up yesterdays lunch - sorry for that ugly thought.
Anyway, I call my five men the 'Hand-sum Five.' Not because they were so good-looking or anything, but because I remember them by using the five fingers of one hand. On the thumb is Bob 'shorty' Glassman. He was short in all ways. You've heard the song 'Sixty Minute Man?' Well he was a sixty-second man. The pointer is Greg from High School; he stood up for me when some guys were being pests. So of course I slept with him as my little way of saying, 'Thanks.' It lasted a month and he was actually a nice guy, but we really didn't see anything in each other after the 'Knight in shining armor' episode. In the middle we have John who waited tables with me at Denny's. He was as average as you can get. I rate him a C+ in everything he ever did or said. The ring finger is Brandon, who was the only other man to ask me to marry him besides my husband. I should have said 'No' to both of them. And finally there's Antoine, who really was 'Pinky.' The only thing I remember about our one night together was that his whole body seemed to blush. So where do you go when you're trying to remember better days? I know what the sound of one hand clapping is.
As soon as my son Michael was old enough, I noticed a sexual tension between us. It didn't bother me for reasons I'll explain later. I guess the fact that it didn't bother me, was encouraging to him. He would tell me I looked 'Hot' when all I felt was bedraggled after standing by the grill for hours. I'd catch him checking me out, and he'd wink at me.
Actually I think he's prettier than I am. He has an angelic face. Once, after a busy day where we did well and kept up with it, he tapped me on the ass and said, "Nice job mom."
I smiled and said, "Thanks babe, you too." After that he found a lot of reasons to give me a pat there or a playful pinch. It was my new uniform that helped us cross the line. It shrunk in the wash, and it was the only clean one I had left, so I wore it. It was tight across the bust and tight across the hips. Even some customer's eyes lingered on me.
Michel made a few remarks during the day and as we were closing and turning out the lights he said, "You know mom, you've got a great body...if you weren't my mother..."
At that point I could have deflected it with an offhand remark, but I was having a horny day. I wasn't kidding myself, Michael turned me on. So I said seriously, "What would you do if I wasn't your mother?" I was looking at his eyes and he didn't break the gaze, or answer. I said, "Would you touch me Michael?"
He said, "Yes"
I said, "Would you touch me here?" I cupped my breast.
He said, "Yes." I closed my eyes. He touched me there.
I said, "Let's go home Michael." We didn't say anything during the two block walk home. I took his hand in mine and they were both moist. When we closed the door I started kissing him. I loved his full lips on mine. The kisses were comfortable as a lover's and fiery as those of a first affair. He unbuttoned the top of my uniform and held my tit. After a few minutes he pulled the soft bra under it and that bare boob came out and he stroked it. He was gentle. He used his fingertips to trace around the areola. He bent his head and sucked on the expanding nipple for a moment and then went back to kissing me.
I reached into his pants and took his cock in my hand. It felt thick and I thrilled at the idea that he was so hard for me. Nobody had been hard for me in a long time. Nobody had kissed me the way he was kissing me in a long time. In the midst of my sexual excitement I felt an emotional welling up to finally feel wanted again. I might have cried if so many other things weren't happening at once. It felt good to have a man's flesh in my hand. It felt good to have Michael in my hand.
My mood switched when he playfully grabbed my ass and growled. He said, "You have a great ass mom." He stroked it for a moment before returning to my tit. He was fondling me as I was gently brushing my hand over his cock. I almost laughed when he asked me, "Mom, are we going to have sex?" What did he think this was leading up to, a lecture on existentialism?
I said, "Yes baby, we're going to have sex."
