The First Noel

*

"Good morning," Angela said after a quick glance as Noah walked into the kitchen. She had been trying to avoid it all morning, but couldn't help being reminded of her dream the moment she saw her son's face. No, it wasn't the dream that bothered her. She'd had stranger dreams than that. No. It was what she did when she woke up with the memory of her dream still fresh in her mind that left her a little afflicted. She wasn't thinking straight.

Noah avoided eye contact as he ate his breakfast and discussed some trivialities with his mother. The email he got the night before seemed like a long time ago. His thoughts were filled with suspicion, self-consciousness, and excitement. Suspicion because he was, for some reason, almost positive that his mother was 'WidowAngel'. In fact, he was willing to bet his dignity on it. Self-consciousness because he knew her had masturbated to his mother the night before, dreamed about his mother, and he wasn't disgusted by it. If anything, he thought he rather liked it. But he just wasn't too sure what his mother would think about it. And excitement because...well, it was exciting. Unconventional, taboo, incriminating, and everything else, but exciting.

As days passed. The idea, the possibility, the fantasy, that she might actually be sexually attracted to her son did not recede in Angela's mind. Instead it grew in fervor. She found herself not able to concentrate at work, she couldn't look at Noah with a straight face, and every time she saw a mother and a son together, her mind was no longer in the present. She feared that her son knew something. She wondered if it was her, or was her son actually keeping his distance. They didn't talk as much as they did before, and there was no other reason for that to change. Even when they did talk, he seemed nervous, as if he knew something was going on. Then she started to wonder if her son had read her story. After all, it wouldn't be too big a surprise that her son would stumble upon porn, let alone what she wrote. She tried to analyze the possibility.

Noah - a nineteen year old boy - having sexual desires much stronger than hers - a lover of literature - more knowledge about the online world than her - Literotica, probably the best place for literary erotica - and a not half-bad erotic story she wrote was published on there. By the looks of it, she thought, it was more than likely that her son had read the story, regardless of whether he knew it was her or not. But she was sure that if her son had read it, then he knew. To top it all off, his strangely elusive behavior only started the day after her story had been published. So, in conclusion, she was ninety percent sure that her son knew that she had fantasized, and put on paper (or at least on screen) about a sexual encounter between herself and him. "Why does that thought not make me afraid?" Angela wondered.

Noah just couldn't take it anymore. It had been gnawing his brain ever since. He had to find out. So, one day, about two weeks after the first time he had read the story, after looking for more stories written by 'WidowAngel' and not finding any, and after reading it many more times and each time jacking off to it, he decided to get to the bottom of it, if there ever was a bottom. He was ninety percent sure that it was his mother, though the 'why', for he was searching for a reasonable and a less taboo 'why', still evaded his logical mind.

He snuck into his mother's room, although there was no reason to sneak. Her mother wasn't home yet. He had left work early. He opened her laptop which was just lying there on the table conveniently, and turned it on. For a second her feared there might be a password, but the fear was quickly dispelled as it displayed the home screen once it was turned on. Taking his time and keeping his eyes on the clock he looked through all the drives and all the folders that he thought most likely. The 'Private' folder offered nothing, nor did the 'Personal' folder. She searched the music folder, the movies folder, the videos folder, the work folder, but nothing. No wanting to give up yet, and not wanting to go out empty handed, he looked into all the unlikely folders too. Nothing. Nothing even close. There were a few word documents, but on them were written nothing close to what he was looking for. Even pressing the key combinations to view hidden folders showed nothing.

He entered the Recycle Bin. It hadn't occurred to him at first, but he thought it was the likeliest place that anything in the veins of what he was looking for would be. There were a bunch of stuff, unimportant. But there was one that immediately caught his eye. It was a word document. The title read. 'The First Noel'. He hesitated before clicking it. What if it turns out to be what he was looking for? What then? What would he gain by knowing that his mother wrote a fictional story about him and her having sex? Would he be happy? Would he be excited? Does that mean his mother was fantasizing about him? Would he send her signals? Confront her? Condemn her? Or would he make a move? The one thing he knew for sure was he wouldn't be disgusted by it. He won't hate her for it. The buildup had been too intense for the outcome to be negative. He didn't know what he would feel. He decided he'd feel later, and see what it actually was first.

He double clicked on the file, and then clicked on the restore button. He then went to the file destination. Found it. He waited, he didn't know for what. He took a deep breath. And as he double clicked on the file, a smile spread on his face. But it vanished as soon as the file opened. It was the lyrics to the Christmas carol 'The First Noel'. It was far from what he was looking for. Even though he didn't find anything, his surety that his mother was the widow angel did not disappear. For some strange reason, he was a hundred percent sure. He was deeply disappointed not to find the evidence to support what he knew. But in his disappointment came the realization that he wanted his mother to be the widow angel. He wanted his mother to fantasize about him. He wanted his mother in bed with him. Noah wanted to be Noel.

Angela was greeted with a surprise when she returned home that evening. Her son was her son again. No more reclusive brooding teenage boy with interaction issues. She was asked how work was. She was asked if she was tired. She was asked if she could teach her son to cook, so she didn't have to tire herself more when she returned home. Upon further thought, it wasn't her son. There was something else she'd missed. Noah had never asked her if she could teach him to cook, and there was no reason to believe that he would without a more logical explanation than just him wanting to help out. She suspected something. She just might know what the reason might be for the change of behavior in her son. But she dared not get her hopes up too high for she could just as well be wrong.

She went to her room, saying nonchalantly that she had to take a shower first. Inside she was almost giddy. Her laptop showed promising signs. She had placed the laptop on her table before she left for work that morning, remembering the position, its distance from the edges and from the other things on her table. She had placed it so that it would be uncomfortable to reach the keyboard without pulling it forward. She wouldn't have noticed the slight variation if it had been any other day. She was already sure even before she turned it on. She turned it on anyway, wanting to see if the trap had really caught anything. She didn't want to make it too obvious when she was setting up the trap. She knew her son was too intelligent for it. It had still been too obvious to her, but that was the best she could do. She entered the recycle bin. The file was there. She closed it. She opened a new word document. She right-clicked on the 'Word' icon on the taskbar. And there it was. At the very top, right below 'Recent'. The First Noel. She smiled.

'What now?' was the question on the minds of both mother and son. Angela knew that her son knew. What she didn't know though was whether he was trying to hide that he knew or he was trying too hard to show it. Either way, it didn't matter. The fact that his response wasn't negative was a positive. All that was on her mind as she taught her son to cook, 'unintentionally' brushing her arm against his unnecessarily and smothering him with a new found affection, was how she could make a move.

Noah tensed up every time his mother's hands brushed against his, every time she leaned in over his shoulder to see how he was doing, every time she put her arms around her shoulder, around his waist, and one time playfully slapped his butt. He tried not to show that he was nervous, but he felt like he was failing, even though his mother seemed not to notice it. The hardest part of it all was fighting the erection that was threatening every time his mother got close to him. He had to face away from her. He couldn't concentrate on his cooking. He was afraid that she would find out that he was on her laptop. Or maybe that she was onto him and was just playing along his farce. One thing was for sure - he had never been more in love with his mother, even more than filial love.

Half the dinner they ate that night was burnt and the other half was undercooked. But their taste buds were numb to it as they told jokes, shared stories, and laughed as they had never done before. They looked at each other, listening intently on the stories they told, but all they saw in each other's eyes was Annie and Noel.

Noah's appetite had already gone even before they started eating. His laughs were nervous. To him, it sounded more like croaks than laughter. When they looked at each other, he never held his gaze for more than a few seconds. He even almost choked a couple of times. Despite all that, what he couldn't understand was - why was he trying so hard? Why was he so afraid of embarrassing himself in front of his mother who knew almost everything about him? His mother, who breast fed him, had toilet trained him, had wiped his ass, cleaned his nose, bathed him, caught him masturbating, wiped his tears, and everything else in between! Why was he, after all that, trying so hard to impress his mother?

His mother cleared the table and he did the dishes as they had always done before. Later, they sat in the living room watching some TV. Noah sat on the couch, his legs propped up on the center table. His mother sat right next to him on his left the same way. Their banters, their jokes and stories had stopped. Their eyes were trained on the TV screen, but neither of them were watching it. Noah tried to control his breathing that was starting to get heavy. He swallowed again and again, but each time he swallowed, his throat seemed to get only drier. The scent of his mother's shampoo seemed to get stronger. The smell of the lotion she used tasted intoxicatingly sweet. And she had her own scent emanating from her womanhood that just got the better of him. He got hard. Slowly, he placed his arm on top of his crotch to hide his erection.

Angela was fighting her own battle too. She knew her son was nervous, and she knew all too clearly the reason why. She did not fail to notice how her son's arm was placed conveniently across his crotch. She knew he did it to hide his erection, and that knowledge gave her a disadvantage in the battle.

'It is your son you are intending to seduce,' her mind said.

'But just look at him. So much like his father. I'll bet you won't even know the difference,' her heart retorted.

'How can you even consider it? Use your fucking head!' her mind almost shouted.

'You know he wants it too. Can you deny your only son what you clearly know he craves for?' said her heart.

'You know what he wants is wrong. Don't lead him on. It's still not too late,' her mind implored.

'It is too late. The die is cast. He knows. You know. He knows you know. You know he knows. And you both know that you both know. There is nothing more to think about.' Her heart was adamant.

'I beg you, do not. If you do, remember, it cannot be undone,' her mind said with finality.

'He is waiting for you, you know? Noah is waiting for you to make the first move,' said her heart. It was almost a whisper, but she heard it as clears as a cloudless sky.

He mind was silent. Slowly, Angela moved her hand and placed it gently on Noah's left thigh over his pajamas. She heard his breathing stop for a second. It resumed with a shivery breath. Her hand stayed for over a minute without moving. And then, after a while, she very gingerly gave a little squeeze, and then slowly relaxed it again. She knew how nervous her son was, and she did not dare to be too audacious. She knew she had to take it slow. So she waited for another two full minute before she made her next subtle move. She inched her hand slightly upward and inward so it got a little closer to his crotch. Her hand met Noah right hand which he was using to restrict free movement of his erect penis. He did not flinch away at the touch. He did not move at all. He was still as a statue. He could very well have been mistaken for a mannequin if seen from afar.

Angela's mind never spoke again. Only her heart spoke, and she listened to it. Didn't people always say, 'listen to your heart'? That was exactly what she did as she slowly placed her hand on top of her sons. She gently petted it, as if petting a hurt baby puppy. She had to care for what the puppy might feel instead of just thinking about how she felt about it. The puppy would just jump away if it thought she was giving her too much affection, if it thought it was a wrong choice to accept affection from her. She had to be careful so the cute little puppy don't change its mind about receiving her affection.

Noah couldn't even think properly. Was it really happening? Does he really want it to happen? It is true then, his own mother wants to have sex with him. Or is he misinterpreting things? But what if it's true? Does he have to signal her back or something, to show her that he was along for the ride? Why was he so nervous? He wasn't even a virgin anymore. It's not his first time...fondling. Why was he so goddamn nervous? Maybe it had something to do with the fact that it was his mother and not some random girl that was getting so very close to his oozing hard dick. He wished he could just read his mother mind. But then again, he knew he didn't need to. It was obvious. It was plain, what was going on, what was in his mother's mind. The question was, what's he gonna do?

'No this is wrong,' his mind decided. 'This is just wrong. What the fuck am I thinking? My own mother! I understand her impulse. She's a lonely woman who hasn't been with a man in over a year after having been with someone for over nineteen years. I understand how her mind could be diluted. I am the only person close to her, and I am not a kid anymore. I am a man. I'm even surprised she didn't make a move sooner.

'But I should be the one with the rational mind. I am young. I'm not bad-looking. I could fuck any girl I want. Why would degrade myself by having sex with my own mother. Why should I disgrace myself? What would people say? What would I become? What would become of my mother? I have to think for her too. I have to take care of her. She isn't thinking straight.'

Noah got up. "I have to go pee."

'What have I done,' Angela thought. 'You fool!' She berated herself. 'How could you possibly even think that your own son would want to have sex with you? You should be ashamed of yourself you dirty whore. What a fucking disgrace. What if people knew? Do you want your son to be a cast-out? A misfit? Targeted? Abused? Don't you ever think? Your mind has really gone around the bend, hasn't it? Was there even a shred of sanity left inside your sexually depraved mind? There you were, so happy thinking that your own son was having the crazy, kooky fantasies that you have. Your son hasn't lost his mind yet. Don't lose it for him.'

When Noah got back, she got up. "I'm going to bed," she informed him.

"So soon?" he asked. She knew he was just trying to make everything seem normal. She knew he was glad that she was going to sleep.

"Yeah. I'm a little tired." It was the truth. She wasn't tried because of her work. She was tired of herself, her constant state of mind where she debated about the moralities of sleeping with her own son. She was tired of guessing what her son was thinking. She was tired of craving her son. She was tired of being sexually attracted to her son. She was tired having all her hopes dashed away. She was tired of reality. Yes, she was tired.

"Goodnight, then," her son said.

"Goodnight," she replied.

As she headed up the stairs, her son called, "Mom." She looked down at him. He was looking up her. He seemed to hesitate a little before he finally managed with a weak voice, "I love you."

"I love you too, Noel." She headed up the stairs and into her room.

There was nothing interesting on TV so he turned it off. Noah didn't have a new book to read yet and there was nothing on their bookshelf that he hasn't read. It was still only half past eleven. He didn't feel like reading erotic stories either after what had transpired earlier. So, he just headed to his bedroom to try and sleep. At any rate, he thought, there was never such a thing as too much sleep.

He lay on his bed, eyes wide open, staring up. All he saw was darkness. His thick curtain did not allow any light from the streetlamps outside to stream through. He liked pitch darkness when he wants to sleep. There was pitch darkness now, but he did not want to sleep. He kept thinking about earlier. Rather, the events kept replaying in his mind for he knew not what to think. It was like watching a movie, only, the movie was real and it was playing in his head. Then it struck him. 'She called me Noel.'

Annie lay thinking about what she did. Why did I have to do that? Why did I have to call him that? What drove me to do that? All she could come up with was - she wasn't thinking when she called her son Noel. Now, it was beyond doubt that her son knew.

Her door creaked, interrupting her train of thoughts. She heard soft breathing. After a few seconds, the breathing got closer. She was facing away from the door so she couldn't see. But she knew.

Noah moved around to the side his mother faced and sat down on the bed, facing her.

Angela pretended to be asleep. Her eyes were closed, but her mind was open. She heard her son whisper. "I love you, mom." She breathed normally, keeping up her ruse. She didn't know what she would do if she opened her eyes, if her let her son knew she was awake. She felt Noah's hand brushing away a few strands of hair from her face, and then running his fingers through them. The hand rested on her shoulder. She felt him move closer. She felt the heat of their proximity. She knew his face was just in front of hers. Then she felt a light kiss on her lips. Her son's lips were soft and soothing. How she fought to not part her lips as her sons lips stayed on hers for longer than she thought it would. But before temptation got hold of her again, Noah pulled away. He pulled away, but he didn't leave. He stayed where he was, as if thinking, undecided about something, as if in a dilemma.

Noah didn't know if his mother was awake or asleep. He couldn't even guess. But it didn't matter. Noah dared. He whispered, "I love you, Annie."

Then he saw his mother slowly open up her eyes. The curtains here were much thinner than in his room. They were drawn, but the lights of the bright street lamps outside streamed through nonetheless, at least enough to be able to ascertain who was in the room. His mother not too roughly grabbed his hand. For an instant he thought she would slap him. But his fear was quickly dispelled as she pulled him close and planter her lips on his.