My Son's Best Friend

Having been unable to stop myself from kissing him, I lied to myself that it had not been my intention to deliberately send out messages, encouraging him to come on to me. Although for the first time in my life, I really felt I could have had an abounding affectionate and loving relationship. Fearful of the consequences, I would not risk my sons love or my husband's respect and support, and our general family life. I was always faithful, respectful and submitted to my husband's occasional advances and would continue to do so. I felt secure and reasonably happy in my family unit, but always terrified something would come along to destroy my life. Although, if the university Douglas was about to attend hadn't been so far away, we may have developed that destructive relationship. As soon as he left the house I went up to my bedroom and collapsed crying on my bed. I was missing him already.

Monday morning Douglas left for university; I lay on the bed and cried for most of the day. As the weeks slipped by I began to fantasize about him. Initially I fantasized about our first kiss, it would be passionate and linger. Then later the fantasy began to develop, as we kissed I would imagine him unbuttoning my blouse. As time passed I pictured Douglas slipping his hands inside my blouse and massaging my breasts through my bra. Later his hands slipped inside my bra, while all the time our lips were locked together. It was almost four months after our first kiss before I would allow myself to fantasize about him putting his hand up my skirt and touching me. My final fantasy which is still thought about to this day, is the Saturday morning before he left for college. I picked out my clothes carefully, preparing myself, dressed in what I thought to be my most sensuous outfit. When he arrived, I refused to let him kiss me or caress me; instead I took his hand and led him upstairs to my bedroom where I asked him to undress me.

I became mesmerized; totally without embarrassment or shame while he removed my clothes. Standing naked before him, his lips explored my body, nipping at my smooth flesh with his teeth. My greatest pleasure was when he finally carried me to the bed and made tender love to me, like I have never known before. As my fantasy developed further, he left me a reminder of our union. Our love making resulted in me becoming pregnant, eventually giving birth to a beautiful daughter. They say the mind is a wonderful thing, and truth is stranger than fiction.

I began to feel physically sick, as if suffering from morning sickness. I never actually vomited, but did have cravings for strange foods, symptoms indicating pregnancy. When I tested myself, the pregnancy test kit gave a negative reading. Nevertheless every afternoon for several weeks, would see me spreading soft cheese on two chocolate covered cookies, topped with cream. I would enjoy them with a glass of milk, something I've always hated. However the most embarrassing part of it was my breasts became enlarged; my nipples became swollen and puffy and began to secrete milk. I later found out its called "Erotic Lactation" which usually develops due to some type of physical stimulus. The problem was preventing the liquid from soaking through my clothes and becoming obvious. It became imperative that I didn't draw attention to myself. I had no idea what Matthew would have said, although I could have blamed my hormones, but Troy, had he noticed, he would certainly have been embarrassed.

However, overtime although the fantasy faded I became more passionate, even Matthew commented and questioned me on the few occasions we had sex; about what had changed me. How could I tell him the truth, it would have broken his heart. So I lied and told him it was because of the way he made love to me. All the time I would be thinking that it was Douglas's arms that held me, it was him making love to me. I fantasized that his daughter Debra was born nine months later. Mornings when I had the house to myself after seeing Matthew off to work and Troy off to college, I would, after my shower, lie naked on the bed, pretending to breast feed our daughter. All the time I would pretend to kiss her, stroke her head. I often fantasized about feeding the two of them together, loving my wonderful secret family, my Douglas and Debra.

I felt fulfilled; it was such a wonderful feeling, because I couldn't have Douglas I had the next best thing, his child. Pretending became so frustrating because my arms were empty and I yearned to be holding a child. It became an obsession, which eventually led to me purchasing a life-like doll, which I was able to breast feed. I also purchased a crib with satin sheets, blankets and a pillow for her to sleep in. The crib I hid in the back of my closet where she would lay for most of the day, only coming out in the mornings while I lay on the bed, naked to feed her. It was wonderful, although if people knew they would think me a mental case to allow a fantasy to develop in such a way. Believe me it was the only thing which kept me sane.

I never saw Douglas again until the funeral. He and Troy had kept in close contact by e-mail and Troy always told me how he was getting on. Douglas won a scholarship to one of the top universities, but it was right across country. Occasionally I would see Mrs. Masters, his mother, in the mall and ask her how he was getting on. She was never very friendly and had to make every effort to tell me of his progress. As if I couldn't guess how the genius was doing, as always, top of his class. Maybe she resented all the time he spent at my house coaching Troy; or perhaps she knew, dare I say, of his affection for me.

He never came home during the holidays, having a job of sorts which would keep him busy. I hadn't realized he moved his company to California and was dedicating his time to building it up. His attendance at university was almost on a part time basis, but he still got a first. For his doctorate he spent even less time studying but still got the highest score ever. It got to a point where the university professors were picking his brains, because he was so far ahead in the field of computers and software than any other company. Competing companies offered him a fortune to sell them his company and work for them, but Douglas had a goal and knew he could be more successful going it alone.

Seven years later the thing that terrified me the most, thinking something would come along and destroy my life, did. As a result, my life was totally devastated by the tragic death of Troy, my twenty five year old son and my husband, killed in an automobile accident, by a drunk driver in a head-on collision. Two lives were sacrificed and mine destroyed, all for the sake of a couple of drinks. Up to that point our lives had been perfect, or so I thought. We lived in a nice house; we each had a decent car, and could buy anything we wanted. That was until I had an appointment with our attorney for the reading of the will. During the visit, he told me Matthew, my husband, was heavily in debt and I would not only have to sell the cars, but the house also. It was all too much to take in, I just couldn't believe it.

Apart from mine and Matthew's immediate family, everybody turned up for the funeral, including Douglas, Troy's best friend of many years. Douglas had traveled up from California where he had successfully created his own computer company. Upon reading my letter with the details of the accident and funeral, Douglas offered to come and help with the funeral arrangements. In my reply I thanked him for his offer, but suggested, if he could possibly spare the time to spend a day or two helping me after the funeral, it would be very much appreciated. Douglas phoned confirming he was able to stay after the funeral, hearing his voice again brought back memories; precious memories, completely upsetting me. He must have been extremely embarrassed hearing me cry over the phone, it was my own fault our conversation was cut short.

When Douglas turned up on the day of the funeral, even after seven years, all my old feelings came flooding back. The funeral went quite well as funerals go, although Douglas stayed close that awful day. Standing beside me, he became my rock, managing to support me as I began to collapse, when they lowered my sons casket into the ground. Everybody came back to the house; I was useless and couldn't do anything, except just sit on the sofa in a distraught state. If it wasn't for my girlfriends and Douglas, who were constantly looking after my guests, I don't know what I would have done. People stayed for a couple of hours then began to drift away, including Douglas who had been so absorbed at playing the host, we hadn't had a chance to talk. He came over to say goodbye, causing me to panic, I couldn't allow him to leave. Taking him to one side I asked him, almost begged him to stay until the end, needing someone to confide in. He agreed, and stayed until everybody had left, the last of which being my girlfriends, leaving Douglas alone and embarrassed, with this emotional female.

In seven years, according to Troy, Douglas had returned home only twice, neither time did he visit us. The first time was when his father died of cancer, some eighteen months ago, when he came home to help his mother and arrange the funeral. Apparently he informed his mother, when she begged him to come back home to live, that she was an imposition and wouldn't allow her to interrupt his life. She was devastated by his attitude and complained bitterly, but realized the significance of his comment when he said, "Now you know how I felt for the eighteen years I spent in this house." Douglas returned home for the second time, six months later to arrange the sale of the family house, and his mother's funeral, who they say, died of a broken heart. Without his parents' house to stay at, he booked himself a room at a local hotel.

Unable to stop crying, Douglas sat next to me and tried to comfort me by placing an arm around my shoulder. "I'm so sorry Auntie Vivian, please don't cry, I just don't know how to handle your grief or what I can do to comfort you?"

I began to laugh, you could see the fear on his face; he must have thought it the start of hysterics. The more worried he looked, the harder I laughed. "Douglas I think your old enough and know me well enough to drop the auntie, don't you? Just call me Vivian." I began laughing again, only this time he joined in. We were sitting there, both of us on the sofa, almost in hysterics. After a few minutes things began to calm down, Douglas suggested we begin to clear away and tidy up. It was getting late by the time we finished, and I wasn't happy about spending the night on my own. "Douglas would you do me a favor and spend the night here, I can make up Troy's bed, you could sleep in his room. I don't really want to spend this night on my own?" He agreed to stay.

Having hardly eaten anything all day, I was beginning to feel hungry, and not having seen Douglas eat anything either, suggested rustling us up a quick meal. Douglas was all for it and knowing his way around the house found a bottle of wine in the fridge. We had a sort of fry up, using some of the leftovers from the wake, and with each of us drinking a couple glasses of wine, finished the whole bottle. Being slightly inebriated, we chatted away well into the night. I asked him about his company, which we spent some time talking about, he then asked me about my future plans. That day, and especially the time spent with him had driven all thoughts of my pending predicament from my mind. Suddenly being reminded of what was about to befall me, I burst into tears. Douglas came around the table put his arm around my shoulders trying to comfort me. "Please Viv don't upset yourself, it won't help you face up to whatever your problems are, so talk to me, let's see if I can help."

Helping me out of the chair, supporting me as he guided me across to the sofa he encouraged me to lay down. His next action took me by surprised when he lay alongside me and wrapped his arm around my waist. It caused me concern about his intentions; his actions were so unexpected, until he began to discuss my problems. As I lay there facing him all I could think about was, he called me Viv, and I hate being called Viv. I've always hated that name and chastised anyone who used it. But when Douglas said it, it sounded right, I loved the way he used it, kindly even sensuous. With our faces in such a close proximity I think I would have kissed him if he used that name again. My thoughts about the name Viv delayed any reply he was expecting, so he repeated his request for me to tell him my problems.

I told him about my visit to the attorney's office, the huge debt Matthew had got himself into, requiring me to sell the house and cars to pay it off. Always reliant on my husband, I had no idea how to survive, having never been allowed to work during my married life. It was beginning to look impossible to support myself; without the necessary skills or qualifications required by employers. No one had informed me how much my husband was in debt, therefore I had no idea just how much money would be left, if any, after selling the house and cars. I wasn't sure if there would be sufficient funds to purchase or rent an apartment. Douglas remained silent until I had completely finished talking. "It's getting late, I suggest we go to bed and we can talk about this again tomorrow, it will give me time to think." My legs nearly buckled under me when he suggested we go to bed, but soon regained their strength when he went on to say, "Is it okay if I have a shower in the morning?"

"Yes certainly, Troy's room now has an en-suite, everything is working in there, but you need clean towels, I will get them for you."

When I returned with towels, under-sheet and duvet cover, Douglas was sitting at Troy's desk. Immediately it reminded me of the time we were alone in my son's bedroom, with me resting my chin on the top of his head. He looked at me and said just one word. "Memories" I began to choke up. He helped me fit the under-sheet and slide the duvet into its cover. Every time I looked up, he was watching me; smiling never averting his gaze, with me desperately wanting him to take me in his arms and take me to bed. My sudden realization that I knew nothing about this man, was he married? I didn't think so; otherwise he would have brought his wife, or at least mentioned her, or would he?

Perhaps he was engaged or serious about some girl, I didn't care he was mine, he belonged to me, and I wanted him to use me. He interrupted my thoughts, just as I was about to say goodnight and turned to leave. "Viv, don't worry we'll sort something out. I know it's easy to say, and difficult to achieve, but please don't worry about it."

There, he said that name again, it sounded even better this time. I wanted to run to him and throw myself in his arms, instead I just said, "Thank you, goodnight."

Lying awake in bed, not being able to sleep, thinking about Douglas's comments about us going to bed, where I assumed his thoughts were of us sleeping in separate rooms, my initial thoughts were of us sleeping together. What if he was hoping, perhaps even hinting that he would like to sleep with me? Was there some legitimate excuse I could use to visit his bedroom and hopefully end up in bed with him? Subconsciously I had put on my most alluring nightgown not that it was extremely sexy, but it always seemed to flatter my body.

Picturing myself standing at the side of his bed, I fantasized that Douglas was stroking my body on the outside of my nightgown, and squeezing the cheeks of my butt. All the time his eyes were transfixed on the exposed top of my breasts knowing his fingers would soon be slipping into my cleavage. Pulling me, forcing me into his bed, making me lie on top of him. Just thinking about him fondling my breasts caused my large nipples to become swollen and hard, standing out, distorting the material of my nightgown. I pretended it was Douglas who slipped the shoulder straps off then eased my nightgown down, freeing my breasts, rubbing and squeezing my nipples, causing exquisite pain as he molested me. Having slipped a pillow beneath me and while crushing my breasts into it, I pulled my nightgown up above my waist, spread my legs to feel the pillow between them. Both hands were tucked beneath me, one squeezing a breast and nipple the other with two fingers inside me. I worked myself up into a frenzy, moaning and possibly calling out his name, I prayed that he never heard me.

The following morning when he came downstairs, found me in the kitchen preparing breakfast. "I want to talk to you about your future. First are your parents still alive and are they able to help you?"

I told him how we broke away from the church, how our parents reacted, and how we drifted further and further apart until we lost all contact, and hadn't spoken for several years. Douglas asked if I would consider contacting them and told him that I had. Neither mine nor Matthew's parent's attended the funeral; and when I asked them for help all they said was, "God would provide." Therefore, under no circumstances would I consider a reconciliation.

He thought for a moment. "You need to think very carefully about what I'm going to say. I live in a big house and I employ a few staff who live local, Basically they keep the house clean and garden neat, other than that I live on my own. I need someone to look after me, firstly a housekeeper type, to instruct the staff, ensuring the house is kept clean and tidy and the gardens well maintained. At the moment I'm forced to eat every meal out, and I'm getting fed up with it. I long for some good home cooking, and I remember as a lad sampling some of your fabulous cooking. Also I need a companion someone I can sit and talk to, an attractive woman, like you, who would accompany me to official functions. An escort; and dance partner who can hold their own in conversations. The same person would act as hostess at gatherings or parties, which I'm told are needed to be held at the house. What I have at the moment is a list of names of those women I have found suitable, and ask for them by name. I'm afraid this is my only suggestion for your future that I am able to come up with."

"You are very kind, it is a wonderful offer, and I will think about it." Douglas then asked me if I had a business card for my attorney, I dug one out of my purse and handed it to him, taking his mobile phone he dialed a number.

"Hi Ron; its Doug, I need a quickie on an attorney named Robert Baxter." Douglas spelt out "BAXTER" and provided Ron with his e-mail; robert@baxter.com. "I need everything in the file on a Matthew Kent. He's over extended on a loan I want to know how much he owes the lending company and names of the directors. That info might be elsewhere, I'll give you an hour. Oh, Ron, download and save all of Baxter's files plus any other interested parties, just in case we need to return them. Also prepare a search and destroy." I couldn't believe what I just heard; it sounded like Douglas was arranging to hack Baxter's computer; then destroy all his files. An hour later his mobile rang, and for the next fifteen minutes sat there taking notes. I knew there was dialogue between them but I could only hear Douglas's side of the conversation.

"How much... Christ; any agreements on file... will you pass that information over to Wallace let's see what he makes of it, and tell him to get back to me a-sap. Oh Ron, it looks like I will be spending more time here than I anticipated, if anything crops up you handle it, but phone me if you have a problem. Can you transfer me to Jane? Thanks Ron... Hi Jane, I'm going to be here longer than I thought, if any problems crop up get Ron to sort them out, however, if he can't, for whatever reason, call me... Yeah it went pretty well. She's having a rough time of it... No, she asked me to stay at the house she doesn't want to be on her own just yet... It's on my PC. Bye Jane."