Each and every character in this story is a figment of my vivid imagination. Each and every character involved in sexual situations is over 18 years of age. I hope you are not easily offended by sex between members of the same family. If you are, consider yourself warned. If you are reading this as the Arts critic for the New York Times, you might be disappointed.
My name is Paul Warren. I am nearly 22 years old, and a senior in college, majoring in Theater, at the University of Washington. One of the requirements to get my degree is to write a play, and get it on stage for at least one show.
As long as I can remember, I have been interested in live theater. My mother, Amy, has just retired from teaching high school English for the last 30 years. At 53 years of age, she still is a huge fan of the theater, and is now and always has been my biggest fan. My father, Edwin, never saw any of my high school plays, as he was always working. 60 to 70 hours every week that I could recall. Just possibly the cause of his fatal, massive heart attack three weeks after my high school graduation, at the age of 56.
Don't get the wrong idea, he was a decent man, a loving husband in his own way, but everything in his life came second to his very successful sales job. My school teacher mother made up for what he lacked in his attitude toward what I was trying to accomplish.
I could never be mistaken for the school jock. Even at 6'2" and a slim 170, sports just weren't in my playbook. I did have a fairly normal dating life in high school, but rarely got past second base, not to mention the two times getting to third. None of my dates at any time let me round the bases, and score the winning run. Yes I was a virgin.
Quite a few of my fellow students thought just because I wanted to be an actor, or screenwriter, I was gay. That couldn't be farther from the truth. Truth be told, I had the best 3 point shot in our entire school, but drama class conflicted with basketball. I was content in Gym class to win every free throw contest, along with nearly every 3 point contest. I digress from my story.
Each of my first three years of college, I would act in 1 or 2 plays each year. I tried staying away from musicals because my singing voice sucked.
On to my senior year. What sort of play would I write. Comedy? Nope, too many already in the works. Musical? Note my editorial comment on my voice.
I came up with what I thought to be a unique subject matter. I started writing a play where a college student falls for an older lady. It happens more than you think. As I would work on scene after scene, my English Teacher mother would ask how everything was progressing, and if I needed any help. As I finished parts of scenes, I would let her read and critique each part as I finished. She would make a few suggestions, here and there, and I was on track to finish by the end of my first Quarter. I was hoping to cast my play and finish rehearsals by the second quarter and have it on stage by the middle of my final quarter.
I have to admit the advice mom gave me truly made the play stronger. Never once during my writing, and her proof reading did my subject matter ever cause any problems. Again, mom was and is my biggest fan.
Let me interject, here. Never in my nearly 22 years of life have I ever had sexual thoughts about my mother. Don't get me wrong, while not being Hollywood gorgeous, mom is a very attractive woman. Standing close to 5'10" and still on the slim side, with C cup breasts, and a radiant smile that lights up any room she enters.
Finishing my play, with over 2 weeks before the end of the quarter, mom quietly asked me if we could do a run through, with her reading the part of the older woman I fall for. I thought for a moment or two, then decided, why not? While I was giving her request some thought, she told me the language she would have to read wasn't a problem. After all, a play set in the 1960's had to be realistic, with the four letter words, and all.
On our first run through, I nearly forgot that the person I was reading with was my mother. The story line, really was a simple one. College kid sees his neighbor with a woman who isn't his wife. He debates telling the wife. When he finally decides to tell her, they develop a relationship. Fairly standard stuff, but I have to admit, mom's reading made the character of Debbie Jones come to life.
After two or three readings, mom asked me if I found somebody to play Mrs Jones. "Not yet," I told her, knowing I had several weeks to find my co star. I still didn't think of using mom, as there are two love scenes that require some very sexy interaction.
Seeing my difficulty in finding a co star, after our third reading, mom looks me in the eye, and says, "why don't we do a full rehearsal?"
"Are you saying what I think you are?" I asked, in total shock.
Sitting across from me, in our usual night attire, she in her robe and slippers, and me in sweats, she stands up, takes her robe off, showing the only thing she has on, except a smile, is a pair of plain white cotton panties.
"Not bad for an old broad, don't you think, Paul?" she stated.
"Christ, mom, are you suggesting what I think you are?"
Nodding her head, she tells me, "lets give it one try, just to see."
"You can't use one of your fellow students to play a 50 year old, can you?" I couldn't dispute her logic. Shit, she is my mother!
"Paul, you are staring at these old, saggy boobs?" she added. Gulp! Caught.
I caught myself before saying something really stupid like "for your age and their size they look great, to me!" They truly did.
