On My Son's 21'st Birthday

Author's not; all of the characters in this story are eighteen years or older.

*****

I walked into the kitchen with a laundry basket full of dirty clothes and there he was, The Prince, as I like to call him. It was after one o'clock in the afternoon and he was sitting at the kitchen island eating breakfast.

Under his mop of dirty blonde hair, were the most intense blue eyes, eyes that could make you lose your train of thought and make you stare off into space simply by him giving you that look. Those blue eyes, together with boyish good looks and an intensely athletic physique, combined in this young man to the point that he just exuded animal magnetism.

I could sense it, and I was his mother, never mind the poor young girls and their foolish middle aged mothers who vied for his attention.

Sometimes I felt like he wasn't my son at all, as if I had been in a fairy tale, a tale wherein I, as a young and beautiful peasant girl, was taken one magical night to the bed of the most powerful and handsome king in all of the universe, and as a reward for yielding my nubile, virginal body I was given this young prince to raise as my own.

I know that sounds crazy, I know he's my son. I distinctly remember the morning I delivered him, and the twelve hours of labor I went through to bring him into this world, but that's how amazed I was that he was my son. He meant everything to me.

"Good morning, your highness," I said sarcastically, but he didn't hear me. He was on another planet listening to who knows what on his phone.

"What?" He asked pulling the ear buds from their semi-permanent location, and giving me a dumfounded look.

"I said good morning."

"Mornin'," he said and gave me a smile just before he shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth, Captain Crunch of all things. He would be turning twenty-one in less than two weeks, and in the fall he would be going back to college for his senior year, and yet he was still eating sugary cereals for breakfast.

In some ways he was still a boy, though he was legally a man, able to vote and go to war, but to me he was still my little baby boy, and I know I'm prejudiced, but God what a babe he had become. He was nothing like my ex-husband.

Warren, my ex, was always so smart, so intuitive, and yet he never saw, never realized, that the genetics just weren't there. He was in complete and utter denial.

How could a short, squat, brown eyed, accountant, who was completely bald by the time he was thirty, sire a blue eyed Adonis who had been the captain of his high school football team. Warren, in high school, on the other hand, had been the president of the math team.

My ex-husband was so proud of his son that he was blind to the facts that were right there before him. It was kind of pathetic, but I never had the heart to tell him the truth.

"What's going on?" I asked trying to get a sense of what my boy was up to.

"What do you mean?"

"What have you got planned for the day?"

"Mom, I just got up."

"Okay, but you need to get that hair cut. You're starting to look like a bum."

"Yeah, yeah."

I went down into the basement and threw into the washing machine the clothes that he had left on the bathroom floor, and as I did I noticed that one of his shirts had a hole in it. Nothing major, but he did need some new clothes.

His twenty-first birthday was coming up in less than two weeks, and I reminded myself that we needed to go shopping or he wouldn't have any presents for the big day.

He was putting his dishes in the dishwasher when I got back to the kitchen. It was at times like this that I felt like a munchkin next to him. Standing side by side he towered over me.

"So Jack," I said to start the conversation.

"Yeah," he grunted.

"What do you want for your birthday?"

"My birthday?"

"Yes. It is coming up, and I haven't gotten you one thing."

"Nothing," he said shrugging his shoulders.

"Don't say that Jack. I need to get you something. You must need something."

"You mean like a new XBox?" He asked sarcastically.

"You're an ass. No, I mean, do you need new clothes."

"Yeah I guess."

"Holy shit Jack," I exclaimed in exasperation.

"What do you want me to say?"

"I want you to think about it, and give me a list; shirts, shoes, shorts, underwear?"

"Yeah Ma, I could use some tighty whities."

"My God, Jack. What am I going to do with you?"

"Mom," he said folding his arms and leaning back against the kitchen cabinets. My God, I realized as I looked at him, he was giving me that look. A look that he would give a girl before he turned on the charm. "Actually," he said flashing me a devious smile, "now that I think about it. I know exactly what I want."

"And what's that?" I asked suspecting that I was going to get a wise crack in return.

"I want you to take me out for my birthday."

"Yeah, yeah. Your father and I have reservations at Trieste. That will be a fun night," I mused, "going out to dinner with your dad."

"I don't mean out to dinner, and certainly not with dad."

"Then what do you mean?" I leaned against the kitchen cabinets opposite him, and folded my arms as I looked into those baby blues.

"I mean, take me out. Go drinking with me."

"What do you mean, to a bar?"

"A bar. A club. Whatever."

"Stop fucking around, Jack," I said. The anger getting the better of me.

"I'm not fucking around. I'm finally going to be legal. Why can't we go out and have a drink together."

"Wouldn't you rather do that with your dad?"

"No."

"No?"

"I mean, yeah maybe."

"And you don't want to go out with your friends on your birthday?"

"Yeah, yeah, we already have that planned. After that?"

"I don't understand."

"Oh forget it. If you don't want to go, just forget it."

"NO! NO! I want to go. I just don't know why you'd want to go with me."

"Because your my mom, and I thought it'd be fun."

Well as the saying goes, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I was flabbergasted. How many mothers got a invitation like that.

"Okay. If that's what you want. I'd love to go." I felt like a young freshman girl that just got asked out by the quarterback.

"Okay. It's a date," he said and just disappeared upstairs to his room.

I know I should have been wondering whether this was a good idea. I mean he would soon be of legal drinking age, but should a mother go out bar hopping with her son? I was just so thunderstruck and flattered that he'd ask me, that I didn't think of the possibilities, or of the repercussions.

For as long as I could remember, boys had never been my forte, and to me Jack, the ultimate boy, was tantamount to a Greek God.

I had always been a nerd, not physically mind you, but definitely mentally. And over the years my interests were always on school, then later my career and ultimately money, and I have to admit that when I was younger I was clueless about the things that the general public found so essential, like looks and popularity.

My mother, Jack's grandmother, was eternally frustrated by my disinterest in all things social. My hair was my hair, my clothes were my clothes. And boys? Well they were definitely some alien race put on this Earth to make me dizzy.

"Why don't you get you hair done like so-and-so," my mother would wail at me, or, "You would look so pretty in this." But I didn't care, and I didn't care that my mother did. In fact I wore my hair the same way for decades until just recently when Jack, of all people, dragged me to the shop where he got his hair cut.

At first I considered getting a new hairstyle just a waste of time, but after it was done I had to admit that I looked amazing. And my daughter, Jack's older sister, showed me how to keep it looking that way.

He was full of surprises this boy of mine.

This new me took some getting used to since I now looked like a completely different woman, a more stylish and beautiful woman. I got so many compliments about it.

And apparently with my new hairstyle (and I get this from so many people) especially older people, that I look a little like Lea Thompson. You know the actress who played Michael J. Fox's mother in "Back to the Future." She was also on dancing with the stars. I myself don't see it, I'm not nearly as pretty as her, but google her if you want to see what other people think I look like.

That weekend I dragged Jack out of bed and made him come shopping with me. It was after noon when, after a lot of urging on my part, he finally got up. I'm sorry, but I wanted to get it done, and so he grudgingly got dressed and accompanied me to the mall.

But soon, as he went from store to store, he kind of got into it. I made sure to leave him alone so he could roam free. I knew he hated when I hovered over him showing him clothes that I thought he would look good in.

When we had visited about three stores, and gotten a number of things that I could wrap for him, he stopped to look in the window of a store that catered to young women. You know, high school and college age girls.

"Why are you looking in there for?" I asked wanting to get done.

"You need to get something."

"What?"

"We need to buy you some clothes if we're going to go out next week."

I canted my head and gave him a quizzical look. "What are you talking about. I have plenty of clothes."

"Really, mom?"

I was amazed and amused. "What's wrong with the way I dress?"

"It's okay for older women. But your young and beautiful, and if we're going out, you need to dress like it."

With that he just walked into the store gazing at all the manikins like some kind of fashion expert, leaving me alone in the mall, again thunderstruck. Who is this boy, and what has he done with my son?

"Jack, I'm too old for this store," I said as I caught up to him, but he just picked up a blouse and handed it to me.

"What do you think of this?" He asked holding it up against me.

It was a cute stripped top, mostly cotton with a little spandex in it, but it was just a tad young since it was an off the shoulders number. In other words it was a blouse that a young girl would wear if she were looking to seduce a gorgeous boy like Jack.

"I don't know Jack. It's a little young."

"Just try it on," he commanded. So I took it to appease him, for I knew once he saw me with it on he would agree with what I was saying.

In the dressing room I striped off my oversized tee shirt and put on this new blouse. I was surprised at how cute it was, and I had to say it looked good on me, though it was tight, showing off my girls a tad too much.

Maybe a size bigger I thought, but then I looked at the off the shoulder thing, and I realized it wouldn't do, it was more for a date than for a mother-son night out.

"See it's too young for me," I said as I exited to the dressing room to find him standing just outside the door.

"It's perfect. Now let's go pick out a skirt."

"A skirt? Jacky this is too tight, too young. I'd look foolish."

"We're probably going to some nice places," he said admonishing me, "filled with young girls, and you're not going to pull it off dressed like an old woman. Wasn't I right about your hairstyle? And believe me, you have the looks and figure to wear something like that."

I stopped in the store, speechless. Now I was convinced that my son had been kidnapped, and this boy was an imposter sent by an alien civilization to infiltrate us.

By the time I reached Jack he had already picked out a skirt, and a little leather miniskirt at that.

"Now I know you're fucking with me. Come on let's get out of here."

"Would you stop, and try this on. You would look so good in this."

I had the strange feeling that I wasn't shopping with my son, but my mother. Though in retrospect, I've said the same thing so many times to my own two kids.

In a daze I carried the skirt off to the dressing room, kicked off my shorts, and was now in a tight blouse that showed off both my tits and shoulders, and a tight leather miniskirt that showed off plenty of leg. The whole outfit made me look like I was eighteen.

Yet as I stood there looking in that full length mirror, standing on my toes to get an idea how it would look in heels, I saw the young girl that I used to be, or could have been before I got married and had kids, and you know what, she looked good. And I hated to admit it, but sexy too. It had been a long time since I felt sexy. Jack had seduced me.

"What was I thinking letting you talk me into those clothes?" I said as we both got into my car. "I'm returning them tomorrow."

"No ma, don't. You look good in them."

"Still, they're too young for me."

"If you return them, forget going out." He sat in the passenger seat mopping. I couldn't believe it, but he was hurt to think that I'd return the clothes.

"Well I hope I don't see anyone I know that night."

"You might, but they won't recognize you."

And I knew in my heart of hearts, he was right.

It was in college that my luck, and my life, completely turned around. It's not that I was popular, but my roommate was. When Babs and I met the first day at Ohio State, I assumed that she would immediately start looking for a new roommate. My first impression being that we had nothing in common.

She was pretty and popular, and like I said I was a nerd, but she turned out to be entirely different from what I first perceived, and not the shallow and vacuous sorority girl I took her for.

We hit it off immediately, and though I never became popular with the boys, her girlfriends were a different story. Like her, they took me in and made me part of a group. Something I never had as a teenage girl.

They taught me a little about subjects that before college I was never interested in, and that was dancing and clothes. I can't say that I became a fashion plate, but at least my clothes fit. And I can surprise people when I get on the dance floor.

"Where are you taking me Saturday night? He asked as I drove him to work a few days later. We had agreed to go out the next Saturday night, because his birthday had passed, and he had already gotten drunk and disgusting with his friends.

"I don't know. Anywhere you want to go."

"Anywhere?"

"Yeah, sure, anywhere," I said naively.

"Okay, sounds good."

"So where are we going?"

"I've got a couple of places in mind. You like to dance?"

"You want to go out dancing with me?" I gave him a look of sheer amazement.

"First a few drinks at a place where I know the bartenders, and then maybe, yeah."

"Okay." I mean, what else could I say?

"Should be interesting."

"What?"

"Seeing if you can shake that thing."

"Oh I can shake it. Don't worry about that. Your mom was known for shaking it."

This all sounded too good to be true, as if I was in a dream. First I was going to a bar with my twenty-one year old son, and then we were going dancing. I mean, I was in heaven, but in retrospect, what was I thinking?

"Oh, and you've got to rent a limo, mom."

"What?"

"We can't drink and drive."

"Oh, I know, but a limo? Sounds expensive. And besides, I'm not drinking that much."

"Oh, just get dad to pay for it. You know he will."

He was right. When it came to his kids, my ex spared no expense. I could rot in hell, but nothing was too good for his kids. Our daughter was in Europe at the time and it was all paid for as a graduation gift from Daddy.

"Oh and mom, I'll hit him up for some extra money. I'll tell him I need tires for my car or it won't pass inspection."

"Do you need tires on your car?"

"Nah, but he doesn't know that."

I guess right about now would be a good time to tell you about Jack's real father. The man whose genes coursed through this young man's veins.

First of all Jack's father was incredibly handsome and tall with the same intense blue eyes. He was so good looking in fact that at the time I couldn't believe he would be interested in me. He was also, I hate to tell you, my boss.

He was having problems with his marriage and I was having problems with mine. Throw into the mix that we were often alone together in distant cities on overnight business trips, and that formula spells disaster.

Soon we were involved, though the match was so incredulous that none of our spouses, or even our coworkers suspected a thing.

Like I said he was handsome, but he was also gregarious, and a real charmer, just like Jack, and I was this mousey little wallflower, but in bed he brought something out in me.

He would often say that I was like two different women, a fierce negotiator in a business deal, and a wanton slut in bed.

For some reason I took that as a compliment rather than a slur. Especially, I'm sure, because it came from John. Yes, that was his name.

Ultimately I wasn't ready to leave my husband at the time, and John never offered me any other alternative. So the affair came to an end.

I got pregnant, and John soon jumped ship to a better job at a better company in a city away from his wife and for that matter, me. He never knew that he had a son, or even that I was pregnant at the time. It was bittersweet, but I never told him, and my husband was just happy that I was expecting a boy.

When Jack was still in high school I happened to run into John on what other but a business trip. We sat down together and had some drinks for old times sake. He told me that I looked more beautiful than ever, and I told him he had a son.

To his credit he didn't run screaming from the bar, but was actually interested in the boy. Maybe one reason for that was that his ex-wife only gave him three girls and no sons. I also wasn't looking for child support.

Ever since that night John has been in communication with me about Jack. Even helping behind the scenes to get the boy into the college he wanted. My ultimate hope is that after Jack's graduation John, who is now in upper level management at a prestigious company, can get Jack a good job.

When I think back upon the love making sessions John and I once had, they may have been some of the happiest days of my life. Definitely the most erotic, and sexually fulfilling. He taught me a lot, and I denied him nothing, and I mean nothing.

Saturday night came, and as I waited for the limo, I felt like Cinderella going to the ball. And though I was excited about it, Jack had been absolutely giddy the whole week, forever commenting about how he couldn't wait.

I now stood in my bedroom on that warm July evening in front of my full length mirror admiring myself as I wore the cute and sexy outfit my son had hand picked for me.

When first I brought it home I realized that if I were to wear it for him, hopefully dancing the night away, it needed some accessories.

First on the list were shoes, and as I browsed on line, I found the cutest pair of strappy stilettos, and though they seemed a little racy for a night out with my son, I had to have them, especially since they would look so hot with that leather miniskirt.

And then, knowing that I would be in a club full of young men, I went to the Victoria's secret site to buy some sexy underwear, of which I hadn't been trussed up in since I was married to Jack's dad. A few clicks later and I'd ordered a little push up bra to help my 34B breasts, and a little lacy white thong to highlight my mid summer tan.

With my thong and heels, and bra that pushed my tits out amazingly, I wasn't feeling particularly comfortable, but absolutely fuckin' sexy. Had it been so long, I wondered, that a simple seductive outfit could get me so aroused?

It was then that, embarrassed, I remembered a night a few years back, when Jack had first went off to college, I was so depressed about spending another night alone in that big old house, that I accepted an invitation by some of the younger girls in my office to go out for drinks after work.