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My high heels again started skidding over the tiles, and my hair was hanging to the floor. He just held me there and I gave up struggling. He was panting as much as I was now. ‘Andrew, the blood is rushing to my head,’ I said, and then blew a clump of hair out of my mouth. ‘Well, I guess it has got plenty of room,’ he replied. ‘Ha fucking ha,’ I groaned. He let me up and I stood adjusting my hair and then my skirt. We just stopped and stared at each other for a few seconds. I slipped my rather sore ass on his knee and put my arms around his shoulder. ‘I didn’t hurt you too much, did I?’ he asked. ‘Yeah, so you better make up for it,’ I said with a pout. He smiled, and we had one of those movie moments. I moved my head towards his, real slow. Our eyes just locked on each others, until our lips touched and I had to close my eyes. We kissed long and slow, and maybe I was more aggressive than he was. My head was rolling slowly, and my hand went up to the back of his head. When we. I threw my head back at the salacious touch, the factthat it was my own mother's touch that was exciting me was not a smallthing. The rights and wrongs of what was happening at that very momentdid not then, or ever, may I add, concern me. All I knew was that thevery centre of my adolescent fantasies and dreams was at that verymoment there beside me and her lovely, knowing, insistent hand wasslowly caressing my trembling, wanting, satin covered body.Her hand paused at the welt of my stocking and felt the button of thesuspender, toying teasingly with the small object. The tugging of hertouching fingers tautened the tension on the stocking and the feelingwas hot beyond my imagination. Everything seemed to be extra sensitiveat this time and I could feel myself reaching to an ecstatic height Ihad not yet envisaged. My eyes, which had closed, opened and I was awarethat mother was leaning towards me and our faces were barely a footapart. I drank in her wondrous beauty. Her heart shaped face.
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