Incest/Taboo Suspicious Mom

I can't say I've had a bad marriage. Over twenty-three years it has had it's ups and down but mostly ups, although, for the past seven it's been neither. In fact, you could say it had become boring. At times, I became concerned about the bland nature of our marriage but not enough to do anything about it or even discuss it with my husband. Perhaps that was the crux of the problem.

We had a comfortable existence. Stefan was well established in his job as a regional sales representative for a national medical supply company. Sales increased steadily if not rapidly and held their ground in bad times. Once a month, he did his route collecting orders and introducing new products to customers via visits and small seminars. Personal touch was key, which meant Stefan had to travel for a week to ten days but both he and I had come to enjoy our time apart instead of dreading it, though at one time I had hated being left alone with two small kids and a job to do.

My own business, once mail order but not web-based, was just as stable if not as remunerative. Still, it had allowed me to work at home for the past eighteen years which let me spend a good portion of my day doing things I liked, such as gardening. If I got behind, I simply worked nights; a small price to pay for enjoying the day.

My time was reclaimed when our kids became teenagers. Life actually became enjoyable again when Julia got married. Unfortunately, she moved away just when she became human. Jeff was still at home attending the local college. He never fought with me like his sister did. Instead, he had always kept his distance, for safety I always thought, avoiding the battleground occupying his sister and me. Thus, I had nobody to console me when my suspicions concerning Stefan's extended trips became too depressing.

Not that I would have voiced my suspicions to my son. Heaven forbid! But neither could I confess to my girlfriends who, more femininely perceptive, would likely deduce my problem. I didn't want to become the focus of gossip; I had seen that too often in our town. So, when I ran into an old school friend in a Pittsburgh mall one day who expressed surprise that Stefan and I were still together, my mind started running overtime but I kept my conjectures to myself. That may have been a mistake for my suspicions quickly transformed into convictions, jealousy and anger.

It was about that time I first began getting very tired. I thought there was something wrong with me but the doctor couldn't find anything. Of course, I didn't mention a word about my fears. I was convinced that I was low in iron but my health was good, likely due to my diet, exercise room, and gardening (relaxation and a natural source of vitamin D).

Nevertheless, I often grew tired in the early afternoon and sometimes slept right through dinner until late at night or even into the next morning. Several times, Jeff had to carry me upstairs to my bed because he couldn't wake me after I'd fallen asleep on the couch.

I blamed it all on my husband. I had the feeling Stefan had met a younger woman, probably an employee of one of his customers. I didn't have any specific evidence, just some funny expressions he made when I asked him about staying an extra day on each of his last three trips. I should asked why but at first I didn't want to appear jealous and then I started rationalizing to myself that it didn't really matter enough to disrupt my otherwise idyllic life. If we divorced, we wouldn't be able to afford our nice house or the international vacations. What did it matter if he had a little fling? Should we lose our comfortable life over a mid-life crisis? It was pathetic, really, a middle-aged man chasing after some young thing, thinking it was true love.

That thought got me to stewing. What if she wasn't so young, maybe just five or eight years younger than me, and seriously after my husband? He wasn't a bad catch for his age, especially for a single mom tired of struggling every step of the way. Was my tranquil life in jeopardy, my comfort facing imminent demise? I thought about it a lot, especially when Stefan was gone.
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When Jeff came home the first day of Stefan's next trip, I was ironing, so deep in thought his entrance startled me and sent the iron clattering to the floor.

"Jesus Murphy, Jeff. You scared the hell out of me," I cried, belatedly scrambling to catch the iron. "Don't sneak around like that."

"I wasn't sneaking. You must have heard me drive up," my son defended himself.

"Well, I didn't," I snapped.

That was almost impossible. Jeff was still driving his first car, the one we bought him when he turned sixteen. The first thing he'd done was to put a set of "pipes" on it. Drove his father nuts but whenever he complained about it, Jeff would just look at me and roll his eyes, waiting for the tirade to subside.

"You would have if your mind was on planet earth," Jeff replied. "What's wrong with you lately, Mom? You always seem to be thinking about something. Is anything bothering you."

"No. Why should anything be bothering me?"

My testiness confirmed that something was indeed bothering me but Jeff shrugged it off and sauntered into the kitchen. I heard him getting something to eat but didn't bother chiding him that it wouldn't be long until supper. I couldn't believe I'd let the afternoon slip away. It was almost five and I hadn't even started dinner. I felt a little guilty about not getting dinner ready and joined Jeff to start getting the food ready. I didn't make a comment about the sandwich he was already stuffing into his face. He was still a growing boy with quite an appetite. There would be plenty of room for dinner.

Jeff didn't help. He sat at the kitchen table and watched me. That was also something that only happened when Stefan was away. Jeff spent time with me, hanging around in the evenings and even on the weekends. When his father was home, Jeff was almost always out with his friends. Was I different when Stefan was gone? More approachable? I suddenly felt bad for snapping at my son.

"Would you like me to make pork chops and apple pie tomorrow?" I asked as I pulled stuff from the fridge. It was one of his favorite meals. He didn't answer so I turned my head to look at him. Jeff was looking right at me with a funny look on his face but smiled when he noticed me waiting for an answer. He had been looking at me like that a lot lately. I needed to give my suspicious mind a rest lest my son think I belonged in the funny farm.

"Yeah, that would be great, Mom."

Jeff hung around while I made dinner but, as was typical of our relationship while his father was away, we didn't talk much. It was comforting, knowing my son enjoyed quiet time with me. He watched me more closely than usual. I suppose he was trying to figure out what was bothering me. I tried not to look at him, smiling the few times I did catch him observing me to let him know I was okay. The last thing I wanted to do was transfer my anxiety to my son. I tried to appear more relaxed and happy than I was.

After dinner, Jeff helped me clean up and then made me some tea, a habit he had developed in the last six months, but again, only when his father was away. I guess he thought I needed a little treat when we were alone. That's when it dawned on me that all my extended sleeping bouts happened when Stefan was away. I never tired to the point of falling asleep when Stefan was home, only when he was away. That was strange. Maybe thinking about what Stefan was doing stressed me out too much. I needed to find something to keep my mind occupied.

I must have dozed off not long after that even though it was the first night Stefan was gone. I awoke with a mild headache, as usual, and felt groggy. I was lying on top of the bed, not even under the covers, still wearing my dress. I turned my head to look at the clock. After nine. Jeff would already be gone to school.

I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of the bed and was surprised to see my panties on the floor. I must have started to undress but had been unable to finish before crashing on the bed. Shaking my head in self recrimination, I promised myself to eat more regularly to get my energy levels up.

I reached behind my back to unzip the dress and eased my weight off the bed to make it easier to pull it under my bum and over my head. Tossing the dress to the side, I was very surprised to see that I was still wearing panties. I looked at the ones on the floor and the ones I was wearing. This was very odd. Why would I put on another pair of panties before getting on the bed, especially when I was so tired? Well, of course I wouldn't. The ones on the floor must have already been there which made me feel worse. I was a bit of a neat freak and the thought of leaving my panties strewn around bothered me. Good grief, I was really losing it.

My drawers were almost empty so I had to put on a pair of fancy panties retrieved from the back, the kind I used to wear to arouse Stefan in years gone by, when he still paid attention to me.

Jeff came home early and chatted to me while I prepared dinner. We ate our dessert in the living room: warm apple pie with French vanilla ice cream. We didn't watch TV. That was one blessing when Stefan was away. Jeff and I typically read and listened to classical music after dinner.

I nestled low on the couch with my feet stretched out, resting my head against the arm. Jeff was sprawled along the love seat with his feet hanging on the opposite arm. It would have made more sense for us to switch couches but we always sat the same way and he never used his father's chair, even while he was away. Every once in a while, I looked over at my son, a warm feeling enveloping me each time. Sometimes he glanced back and we smiled but didn't speak. We didn't need to.

Once I looked up to find Jeff regarding me intently. His eyes were on my legs but I knew his mind had to be elsewhere. He was probably thinking about something he'd read and just happened to be looking my way. My knees were raised up to rest my book upon and my knee-length, pleated brown skirt had fallen part way down my legs. The backs of my thighs were probably showing. Damn, I had put on those skimpy panties that morning. I hoped he didn't suddenly focus his attention on the real world while he was looking my way. It would be so embarrassing. I stayed absolutely still, afraid any movement would catch Jeff's attention.

Strange, how the mind works. While worrying about inappropriately displaying my legs to my son I was simultaneously thankful for all the exercise I did to keep my muscles well-toned. There was no cellulite on my legs and I was proud of it. My concern about Stefan reared its ugly head at that moment. I know that men like to look at other women regardless of what they have at home, but, was I still attractive? Would other men look at me? I tried to recall whether or not men had cast glances my way the last few times I had been downtown but couldn't remember any specific incidents. When my mind returned from that excursion, I noticed that Jeff's nose was back in his book. Obviously, he hadn't even been aware of my legs and, while relieved, I felt strangely disappointed. Was I really not worth checking out?

Jeez, Erica. Are you so desperate to confirm your attractiveness to the opposite sex that you'd seek confirmation from your son? Why would he do that anyway, his own mother? Get a grip on yourself woman.

Without thinking, I dropped my hand under my skirt under my bottom and smoothed it up my legs. Yes, the hem was low but not enough for my panties to show. I hadn't been in any danger of exposing myself at all. I waited for Jeff to look my way again and smiled when he did.

"You know, I really enjoy our time together when your father's away."

Jeff returned my smile and let his book fall onto his chest.

"So do I Mom. More than you know."

I didn't quite believe my son enjoyed being with his mother that much but it was nice of him to say so, even if he put it an odd way. I nodded and turned back to my book.

"Would you like me to make you some tea?"

"Not tonight," I replied, not looking up.

"Are you sure?" Jeff asked, sounding concerned.

I regarded him, noting that his expression didn't match his voice.

"Yes," I confirmed. "I think tea makes me restless at night."

"Not the stuff I make. It's herbal; no caffeine. It should actually make you sleep better."

"Knock me out is more like it."

"Maybe you need the rest. You're really antsy when Dad's away."

I looked back at my book. "Maybe later."

A few minutes later, I sensed Jeff looking my way again. I kept my eyes focused intently on my book but this time, instead of freezing like a statue, I turned a page and let my hand slip onto my knee, my finger slowly scratching the side of my leg before dropping to my side on the couch. After a bit, I squeezed my hand under my skirt, but instead of smoothing it up my legs, I casually trailed my fingers up and down the bare underside of my thigh several times. I admonished myself but still repeated the same action each time I changed pages. Ignoring the commands from my brain, my fingers moved anyway. Thank goodness I was a slow reader so it didn't happen too often.

What on earth was wrong with me? I was trying to attract my son's attention to my legs. Why? To prove that a man other than my husband would find me appealing? I needed to tease my son to do that? I chastised myself properly. If you need attention that bad, put on a short skirt and go shopping downtown.

I let my feet slide out, straightened my legs and lowered my knees until they were flat on the couch. I put my book down and stretched. Jeff got up and went into the kitchen. I picked my book up again and started to read. A few minutes later, he reappeared with two mugs of tea and handed one to me.

"Jeff," I protested.

"It's good for you," he insisted.

It was no use arguing. My son had always been persistent. "Yes, sir," I submitted, laughing.

I drank slowly while I read. The tea was cold when I took the last sip though I hadn't read much more. I was feeling drowsy and my mind had been wandering. What was Stefan up to now, I wondered? Was he at some woman's home, in her bed? I pictured Stefan walking up to a seaside cabin, a young woman dressed in a revealing negligee waiting for him, body pressed seductively against an open doorway. I had been riding by on an ancient bicycle but had stopped to watch this adulterous scene unfold, my pain relieved by the lust-filled faces of two young farm boys working on the other side of the dirt road, eyes drinking in the long expanse of bare leg and hip exposed as my skirt rested on the pedal. I leaned forward to peer at the cabin as the girl's arm encircled Stefan's neck, my bottom lifting from the old, leather seat.

"Mom? ... Mom?"

I opened my eyes. Good grief, I had drifted off. It was a dream.

"Maybe you should go to bed," Jeff suggested.

"Yes," I agreed, struggling to get up and blushing.

"Do you need help?" he asked.

"No, I can make it." I got up and stumbled to the stairs. "Goodnight," I called back toward the sounds of Jeff picking up our mugs and taking them to the kitchen.
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* * * * * * * * * *​

It was early. After dawn, but still early. The room was softly lit by the sun streaming through the blinds. Yet again, I had not made it completely into bed. Lifting my head from the pillow, I looked down at myself and sighed. I was still wearing the white blouse and dark brown skirt. My hand, pinned between the back of my head and the pillow, felt numb so I pulled it out and propped myself up on my elbows.

I had obviously tried to get into bed but I was a mess: blouse haphazardly done up with some buttons in the wrong holes; bra pushed up over one breast, skirt flipped up onto my stomach and my legs cocked wide open. Thank God I was still wearing panties, albeit the skimpy ones I'd put on yesterday morning, but they were pulled to one side. Lord Jesus. Had I been playing with myself? What if Jeff had come in to check on me while I was doing that, in my sleep no less?

I got up, fixed my bra and buttoned my blouse, then removed my panties and fetched a new pair from the fresh laundry I hadn't yet put away. I splashed some water on my face and went to Jeff's room to wake him up and tell him I would make him some scrambled eggs for breakfast. I startled him when I entered his room. He was already dressed and on his computer but got up and came to greet me right away. He seemed flustered.

"That's awesome, Mom," he said in response to my suggestion. "I'll be right down," he added, hurrying me out and pressing his door closed.

I made him breakfast, packed a nice lunch, and then sent him off with a motherly smooch. He was a good kid to look after me like he did. After he was gone, I got a coffee, even though I was trying to quit, and worked online for a few hours processing my backlog of orders. After that, I went downstairs and worked out for an hour and then had a late lunch. I didn't feel much like working so after just two more hours I went upstairs to put the laundry away. After doing mine and Stefan's, I carried the rest into Jeff's room.

As I put his underwear away, I bumped his desk with my hip and the screen lit up on Jeff's computer displaying the login page for one of those social network programs. His username was displayed and a row of asterisks filled the password field. I position the mouse over the button and clicked. Feeling guilty — I had never, ever snooped on my son before — I sat down and started reading the messages from his friends. As I did, I both scolded and defended my behavior: You're bad news, Erica, you need to get a life. and I'm just making sure he isn't doing any drugs.

I scanned over the messages until I came across a weird one from a member of some group Jeff belonged to. I pushed her a little further last night, it said.

Curious, I clicked on a link that popped up a window with more messages from that user with replies from other members of the group. I was curious to see what this guy had done to his girlfriend.

There was a pile of messages from various members of the group. Most of them had pictures attached: photos of women lying on their backs on beds or couches, some on the floor, skirts pushed back and legs open, almost all showing their panties. Several depicted the women with their blouses undone, bras sometimes intact and other times not. Some were dressed in nightgowns that were pushed up but others were wearing skirts or dresses and one was wearing slacks that had been pulled down. The women weren't posing. Their eyes were closed and their body language indicated an unawareness of being photographed. There was a deceitful feel to all the pictures that made my skin tingle.

Good God. Don't tell me Jeff belonged to some kind of pervert group that shared clandestine pictures of women my age. I searched for messages from my son, hoping to find none. Where did they get these pictures? Did they find them on the web and pass the good ones around? Was Jeff sharing pictures too? My heart sank when I found a message from Jeff. I opened it. There were several pictures attached.

What a weird feeling, looking at a picture of a woman's wide open legs that my son had found sufficiently alluring to share with his friends. Her panties covering a prominent mound, its swollen nature suggesting that it had been 'prepared' for the photo. My inspection was interrupted by the sound of Jeff's car rumbling into the driveway. Quickly, I backed out of the group and retraced my steps until I was on the screen I had started on, as best I could remember. I leapt up and started down the hall, glancing back as I walked, trying to will the screen saver into action. I ran down the stairs and just managed to step into the kitchen and twirl about as if that's where I'd been when Jeff opened the door. The wily woman in me rose to the challenge of keeping my son occupied long enough for the screen saver to kick in, probably far longer than necessary.​