One year earlier.
Evelyn looked at her reflection in the bedroom mirror. Can I really wear this? She asked herself as she turned and examined her ass in the skin tight leggings. A visible panty line cut across her buttocks and to her eyes looked unflattering. Commando? She thought and smiled at herself. Why not?
Without her underwear the leggings dove between the folds of her sex. She loved the feel as the cheeks of her ass cinched the material. She ran her hands over her large breasts pushing out the black tank top. "Sandy eat your heart out." She exclaimed.
Harold was waiting in the kitchen jiggling his car keys as Evelyn entered. She turned to allow her husband to admire her look. "You're really wearing that?" He questioned.
It wasn't the response she had expected. "I don't look like Sandy from Grease?"
"You like like you belong on a street corner."
Evelyn let the comment pass, picking up her handbag and following her husband to the car. She really needed a drink.
She danced like she was in her teens. Harold's insensitive words were forgotten with the flattery from her colleagues. The men especially. It felt good to be admired, to have their eyes on her, mentally undressing her. The alcohol flowed. Someone touched her ass on the dance floor. She drank vodka. She was kissed by a girl. The music blared, the lights strobed. Harold who? She drank beer, she hated beer. She flashed her breasts. She vomited out of the window of a cab. She hugged the bowl of her toilet and thanked god porcelain was cold. She didn't get up the next day.
* * * * *
Today
"Probably a good idea to wear a bra in front of the boy next time Eve." Harold stated as Cain closed the door behind them.
Evelyn had been on a high, her self esteem soaring and then her husband said that. "What are you saying?"
He looked across at her as they walked to the car. "Well I mean look at them. They're swinging around all over the place. You're not in your twenties any more darl'."
They entered the car and Harold began reversing out of the complex. "Same with the skirt. The lad doesn't want to see his mother dressed like a slut."
"It was a costume party Harold! Everyone was dressed up." She let the slut comment go, not wanting to get into an argument.
"I'm just saying you're too old to be dressed like that."
"Oh Jesus Harold, I'm only forty nine!" Evelyn pleaded her case, being drawn into the argument anyway.
Her husband laughed. "Closer to fifty every day!"
She had no idea why he was doing this. Why he seemed to be going out of his way to antagonize her. The alert tone of a message on her phone came from her handbag and she reached down to retrieve it.
"Probably the fashion police. They want you to return what you stole." Harold laughed to himself.
Evelyn rolled her eyes, the joke not really making any sense. She looked at the phone and the sender. It was the police in some form. A text from Cain and the message was exactly what she needed after her husbands comments. "You looked beautiful last night and better this morning. I cant wait to see you again. I love you."
"Who was that?" Harold asked.
Evelyn placed the phone back in her handbag without responding to the message. "Cain."
"What did he say? You leave something behind?"
Evelyn smiled as she looked out of the window and thought of her panties left on his pillow. Only my heart, she thought.
* * * * *
Cain left the shower and naked went straight to his phone to see if she'd texted back. Nothing. It had been hours and doubts were beginning to form. She had been reluctant at first. Maybe she was having regrets? Did I do something wrong? He ran everything through his mind. My God, he thought. I came inside her, what was I thinking? I didn't think! He picked up his phone again and was about to call her when a text came through. "Dinner tonight?" His heart stopped racing. His cock began to swell.
Evelyn took another sip from her mug and looked at her phone on the kitchen counter. Harold turned a page of his newspaper and looked across to his wife. "Watched pot never boils!"
"Huh?" Evelyn replied.
"Cain. He'll reply when he's ready. He's probably off with this girl of his." He chuckled to himself. "Lucky him."
Evelyn shook her head. Lucky him? She thought. You haven't wanted to have sex for years, why would you be jealous of him? She picked up the phone and headed to her bedroom.
There was a book on her bedside table and she lay on the bed and began reading but found herself having to re-read entire paragraphs due to her lack of concentration. Her eyes kept diverting to the phone, her mind kept focusing on her son.
Cain was struggling to compose the text. He lay on his bed and was trying to write something poetic. A love letter to her. Something to show how he felt. Each time he read back the message he thought how stupid it all sounded. Trying to rhyme, what rhymes with Evelyn for fuck's sake? He asked himself. Finally he realized it wasn't needed. He was acting like a lovelorn schoolboy. She wouldn't want that. No, the text this morning said it all. It told her all she needed to know. Time to be a man. "Of course I'll come for dinner." He typed before sending.
Evelyn snatched up the phone and opened the text. She smiled as she read his confirmation. It was silly how excited she felt. Her own son, someone she'd seen basically every day for eighteen years and yet the she couldn't wait to be in his presence. It was different now though she admitted. He was different. She jumped when the phone vibrated in her hand as she daydreamed. She again opened the follow up text. "By the way, what are you wearing right now?"
Evelyn blushed. She wriggled down on the bed slightly and her jeans pulled between her legs, the seam pressing her sex. She thought of lying. Telling him she was in lingerie or naked. Instead she looked down at herself and told the truth. "Tight blue jeans and white t-shirt. You?"
Cain stroked his cock as he brought his mother's underwear to his face. He thought of her in the hallway, bending over for him. He recalled his hand cupped over her vagina, her pissing in the street. His message tone rang beside him and hurriedly picked up the phone. He read the text and now wanted more, responding straight away. "Naked! What color are your panties?"
Evelyn read the message and genuinely didn't know. A little hung over when she and Harold returned home she'd showered and changed without thought. She undid the button of her jeans and lowered the zip. The purple satin underwear were a favorite, so low cut she could see her pubic hair poking out the top. She ran a hand down the silky material and cupped her vagina, feeling her wetness seeping through. What if Harold comes in? She thought.
