Her Best Friend's Son Ch. 01

"Come in, come in, Oh God, it's so great to see you!"

"You too Aunt Angie. I've missed you already, isn't that stupid? Thanks so for putting me up again..."

He paused, staring at her, struck by something. Angela was mortified, feeling the shame wash up her neck toward her face, barely able to resist crossing her arms self-consciously, sure that he was thinking how inappropriate her braless state was for a woman her age. But that wasn't he said.

"That's the same top you wore to my eighteenth birthday."

"It..it is?"

"Um, yeah. It's...I always thought it was lovely on you."

After a couple of seconds, Angela realized that she was not simply speechless, but that her mouth was literally hanging open, as if she was a character in a cartoon. How could he possibly remember that? She had no idea herself, could somewhat remember the day, big celebration Jeremy's mum had organized of friends and family. She recalled how happy and self assured he seemed. Lots of friends. Mostly boys. A vague sense of hugging him after the candles had been blown out. She wouldn't have been sure he'd even have remembered that she had been there five years ago. How could be recall what she had been wearing?

She managed to recover just as Jeremy was putting down his duffel bag, seeming to hesitate as if he had said something wrong. "Oh, no, that is yes...yes, come on in. Interview you said? How did it go?"

"Great. Just great. I'm guardedly hopeful!"

As Jeremy made his way into the flat, she let him head down to the spare bedroom to drop off his stuff while she ducked briefly into her own and grabbed something, anything, to cover up her top, a beacon of attention that now seemed not only too revealing, but interlaced with some kind of memory that was too confusing to face right now. Despite it being a warm September evening, she grabbed a loose-fitting sweater and pulled it on over the top. Jeremy looked slightly crestfallen when she stepped into the kitchen where he now was, but didn't say anything. And as she fussed about to make tea, his usual enthusiasm and easy spirits returned.

"Guardedly hopeful?"

"Yes - I'm not the only candidate I'm sure, but it seems they might be checking references in the next couple of days, and, well, I think it would be a great fit."

"And you still want it?"

"God yes! I think this would could be the break I've been hoping for, really getting started on a career."

"You are ambitious!"

Jeremy paused thoughtfully. "Maybe. I mean, I suppose yes. But I don't think I need to get to the top or all that kind of stuff. I just want to be able to pay off my college loans, not saddle them on Mum, you know. And, well, you know, just not end up working in a coffee shop ten years from now. Be like you, do something that makes a difference. How was it at work today?"

"Oh, the usual..."

"Hmm, solving the problems of the inner city one small business development project at a time? That kind of usual?"

"I'm sure you think too much of what I do, Jeremy," Angela said, but couldn't hide the smile from her lips. "More of a cog in the wheels at best."

"Pretty special cog I'd say."

Angela blushed, turning toward the kettle and organizing the tea cups.

By the time tea was finished, she was much more relaxed. Jeremy was so easy to talk with and engaging. It felt so good to have him back at the flat so soon and unexpectedly. Eventually she started to clean up the cups and offered to make dinner.

"Oh, please, let's go out. I'd love to celebrate with you. My treat!"

"Oh Jeremy," Angela laughed self-consciously. "Out where?"

"Some mates told me about a great evening spot near here. Night club and dancing but not too intense - and great music."

"Night club...sounds, I don't know, quite young?"

"Right, exactly," Jeremy replied, either not getting the hint or playing dumb.

It seemed such a shame to dampen his enthusiasm, Angela thought. "Okay, then. Why not? I'll just, you know, think of something to wear and get ready."

"Alright. What you had on was just great. But whatever feels good for you, you look good in anything. And we can stop in for a bite at the fish and chip shop on the way."

Angela closed the door of her room and took a deep breath. Eventually she peeled off the bulky and too warm sweater and looked at herself in the mirror. No, she had not imagined it. When she wasn't moving it was somewhat less obvious, but there was no hiding her braless tits under the silky blue top. And the stovepipe thin jeans that screamed 'YOUNG'! Or, at least, desperately trying to be young. She vaguely recalled that she had worn them out only once.

But...

Jeremy seemed to like them. Not just like them. Remembered the blouse. Was that really possible?

Undecided, she picked up her phone and texted Jewel.

- hey, girlfriend, I'm trying to dare myself into something - should I do it?

She waited a while, started going through other choices in her wardrobe, and then got a text back.

- hey you. dare yourself? anybody gonna get hurt?

- no no one gets hurt

- wanna tell me what it is?

- um not really

- like that is it?

- kinda

There was a pause in texts, and then Jewel resumed.

- does it help if I say that you are a kind of posh slut sometimes?

Angela laughed out loud. Her friend knew her so well.

- yeah that kind of helps

- in that case you betta do this thang for your mama you little slut but only if you promise to tell all after

- um yeah promise

- you better

- bye

So that was that, Angela told herself, brushing her hair and applying a fresh coat of lipstick, and trying to ignore the beating of her heart. On a final impulse, she raised her phone and took a selfie of herself in the mirror, then messaged it without comment to Jewel. She turned down the sound so she wouldn't be tempted to look at any reply. She opened the door and calling out to Jeremy.

"Ok, I'm ready."

Jeremy seemed to brighten at her appearance, but then act pretty nonchalantly as they locked up the flat and headed down the road to the chippie. Angela wasn't sure if he was being gentlemanly, or if she had misread the earlier reaction with her revealing (and remembered?) top. Pretty soon she had relaxed enough that she didn't have to keep reminding herself to uncross arms from over her chest. Eventually she had almost forgotten her clothing choice in the ease of their chatty conversation.

After eating, they found the nightclub, and it was pretty much as Jeremy had described. Not too intimidating, decently lit, loud but not obnoxious music, and this early in the evening anyway, not crowded. Jeremy bought her a glass of white wine and himself a pint, and soon after that they were dancing. Angela couldn't say when she had last danced, but he made it so easy. He wasn't flashy, but musical and relaxed and connected in a straightforward way. An hour slipped by and she was flushed with a sheen of sweat, high on endorphins in the same way she was after a great workout. She would have guessed that Jeremy would have been ready to stop, already done more than enough to have earned points taking his Aunt out for the evening, but instead he seemed to pick it up a notch, really getting into the groove. He reached out to her hands, and tried spinning her to the music. Angela laughed at her own first wobbly attempts, but he smiled back and persisted, and pretty soon she was pivoting and laughing and grinding her pelvis against the music and the sassy what-the-fuck confidence of Jeremy's dance moves.

In the midst of it all, she remembered why she had worn the jeans only once. They were indeed too close fitting and stretchy to wear panties underneath without creating a visible line, but without them the frayed seam inside the zipper rubbed persistently against her slit. She managed to ease it to the side, but each time Jeremy spun her, BANG, it was right on that center line again. She could have stopped dancing, but she didn't want to. Or resisted his pivoting of her, but she didn't want to do that either. She loved how he admired her turns and how it felt to see him disappear and reappear before her in the giddy movement. Instead she pretended that she could ignore it, and pressed on wilfully against that seemingly-ever-tightening seam of fabric.

"Wow, this is fun!" Jeremy half-shouted over the loudening music.

"Yes!" Angela shouted back. She had surrendered her earlier doubts and was letting herself really enjoy it. Him. Herself.

Suddenly she realized she needed to go to the bathroom. She shouted an explanation, and, slightly wobbly, she made her way through what seemed like a much thicker crowd and found the women's room. It was packed with girls, at least they seemed that young to her perspective, preening before the mirror and chatting with each other. One stall was free. Finally in privacy, she steadied her breath and balance, acknowledging how flushed she was. She unzipped and peeled down her jeans to sit. As she peed, she eyed the offending seam, and to her horror saw that it had become a hot, sticky mess of her pussy juices. The blue denim was wet and flecked with pearls of stringy cream. She bit her bottom lip, half impressed and half mortified. Her fingers found their way to her slit, and confirmed that inside she was tender and inflamed and horny as hell. Behind the closed door of the stall, she put her fingers in her mouth and for a moment was lost in the desire to stroke herself off then and there.

She heard the girls gossiping and giggling outside and a wash of shame came over her. While dancing with Jeremy it had begun to feel like she was out on a real date. Suddenly that changed. Sitting here on the cold enamel, her too-tight jeans around her ankles and her crotch a heated mess of pent-up lust, she felt not just out of place but...a fraud. She wasn't Jeremy's date. She was his mum's best friend and he was doing her a favor, taking her out dancing in return for putting him up. For all she knew the girls outside were giggling about her!

Quickly she dressed, didn't even dare the line of sinks to wash her cunt fragrant hand, and plunged back into the crowded and now darkened nightclub. It took her some time to find Jeremy, her heart beating harder and her anxiety worsening. Her clothes now felt totally inappropriate, a mocking echo of the skimpily dressed teenage girls all around her. Finally she saw him at the bar, talking to two such girls, one spiky blonde and the other flowing red head. She quailled, all her instinct being to flee. She almost did, simply back out of the nightclub before he noticed her, make her way, find some excuse. Only the sense of how embarrassing that lame excuse would sound in the morning kept her from running. Instead she gripped her nerve and walked toward him, preparing to say that while she herself was leaving early, she was fine with him staying, she'd leave the door on the latch for him.

But then, as he spotted her, Jeremy turned with two drinks in hand and flashed her a completely genuine smile of delight. "There you are! I got you another wine, hope that's ok." With barely enough acknowledgement to be polite, he abandoned the two young women perched at the bar. Angela saw their disappointed faces turn icy as they spotted her walking towards him. Jeremy folded an arm around her to offer the wine glass, her status as the focus of all his attention unmistakable. She allowed herself to smile back at the girls in pretend sympathy.

"Oh my God, I am so glad you came and joined me tonight. I can't think of a better way to celebrate!" He beamed, he literally beamed with pleasure as he took a sip of his beer and seemed to drink her in at the same time. She was about to answer when she was jostled from behind and stepped forward into him, spilling some of her own wine onto her blouse.

"Crap, you ok?" Jeremy asked after he had fended off the clumsy newcomer, but all she could do in response was laugh. He found a paper napkin on a nearby table and she vainly mopped at the darkened splotch that she guessed revealed her nipple all the more, reassuring him that the white wine wouldn't stain, and not minding at all that his eyes didn't leave her the whole time.

They finished their drinks but it was now too noisy to talk and too crowded to dance. By mutual nods they left, and enjoyed the quiet of the evening streets on the walk home. It wasn't until they were inside the flat that it occurred to Angela that the end of the evening might turn awkward. Or maybe to hope that it would. She was suddenly self-conscious of her clothes again, too young and now marked with spilled wine. "Um...I should probably..." her words tailed off, not sure herself where they were headed.

"No worries," Jeremy promptly announced. "Um, I'm exhausted too. Probably should head straight to bed." From the spare room he called out to her. "Hey, Aunt Angie, did I leave my old t-shirt here? I thought I did, but I can't find it."

Deflated, Angela felt her spirits sink further.

"Um, let me check. Maybe it got wrapped up in the wash?" she lied, knowing that it was still wrapped up in her own bedclothes. She made a pretense of looking for it in the dryer, then reluctantly pulled it out from her bed. She felt sad to part from it, like she was letting go of her fantasy. "Is this it?"

"Brilliant. Would hate to lose that." Jeremy gave her a warm smile, and then an equally warm hug. Angela pulsed. This would be the last chance for the evening to make a turn toward...but then he said goodnight and seemed to retreat to his room. She chided herself - stop pretending there's something between you! For fuck's sake, tonight was not a date! And he's not just way too young for you. He's your best friend's son!

Then, just as she turned from the closed door of his room, a terrible thought struck her. Where were her yellow panties? The ones she had worn three days in a row and then stroked herself off in while tousled up in the spare bed? Jeremy's bed. She went back into the laundry and searched through twice, then frantically hunted her own bedroom. Nope. There was only one place they could be. Still twirled up in the sheets where right now Jeremy was undressing and preparing for bed. Unless he had already found them and was holding them, puzzled, in one hand.

Still clothed, Angela crawled into her own bed, or rather the bed that had once been her and Peter's but was now hers alone. Hers, a single and rejected woman in her late 30s. She hid herself under the covers. She tried to blank it out, but the image of Jeremy uncovering her used panties from the bedsheets haunted every breath. She realized that her eyes were squeezed shut. She thought of calling Jewel and asking her advice, but that would mean pulling herself out of the dark cave of her blankets, and anyway, what would she say? She tried to imagine explaining her predicament to her open-minded friend, but then how the conversation would go?

Um, so what do you think I should do?

Do? You mean, walk in there and ask for your panties back? Like a ball you've kicked through the neighbours window?

Well, I could say, say they must have got stuck with the sheets in the drier after the laundry?

Oh yeah? And do they seem freshly laundered?

No. No, they must smell of three days of my wearing them, and be stiff with cum from me stroking off in them.

And why were you doing that in the spare bed?

Fantasising that it was Jeremy who was fingering me off, and pulling them down my legs so that he could fuck me.

And will he recognize them?

Probably, since they are the ones that his mum's best friend flashed him with when she was sitting on the sofa the last evening of his stay.

Oh, yeah, you should totally barge in then. You'll probably find him lying on top of the bed stroking himself off in them, and waiting for your entrance.

It was this image that Angela tried but failed to block from swelling up inside her. What if it was possible? What if she did barge in, and instead of the evening ending, not in a downward fizzle of loneliness, but in a lustful confession of forbidden desires? What if Jeremy hadn't just been polite in taking her dancing, but really wanted her? Sexually? As a woman?

Angela sobbed into the sheets in frustration. She knew she couldn't risk it. The parallel image was equally forceful - the thought of him standing there examining them, first puzzled, and then grossed out by the tacky seduction attempt of his ancient babysitter...

But her body still pulsed with the hours of dancing with this attentive young man. Her clit throbbed where she had rubbed it hard against the seam of her jeans and her nipples puckered from being toyed with by the silky blue fabric and Jeremy's gaze. She could hear her cunt pleading with her, begging her to take a risk, any risk. But she dared not even use her fingers to release its knot of sexual tension, fearing the intensity of such a dam-break of emotional release. Or at least how much sound she might make if she orgasmed now, so close to losing self control, so close to risking everything. And so close to the spare bed where Jeremy was laying...

Instead, she bit her pillow until it was soaked with saliva, slowly clenched and released her thighs in whimpering frustration, trying to sooth herself but finding the opposite of solace - instead prolonged arousal. She felt as close as she had ever been in her life to really, really grasping something she desperately wanted. And yet the furthest from being able to satiate that seemingly bottomless desire. Images of she and Jeremy dancing kept returning to torment her. She kept promising herself to stop and then realized that, unbidden, her body had returned to this tormentingly slow masturbation, rubbing herself against that cum-soaked seam of her tight jeans. She begged sleep to come and release her from this slow fire that she couldn't quench.