CHAPTER ONE

Monday

“Thanks again for letting me crash here for the week, Mrs. Lopez.”

Sean, my son’s friend, dropped his duffel in the middle of my living room. Unceremoniously, he plopped on the couch and put up his feet.

I winced at the sight of his muddy shoes on my coffee table. Sean was far from my favorite of Christian’s buddies, but I gave him a polite smile all the same. I was just pleased to see the nineteen year old finally get his life together. If that meant staying at my house until his lease started, I could deal with that. The sooner he grew up, the sooner I could stop worrying about his bad influence on Christian.

“No problem, Sean.” I motioned to his discarded luggage. “You know where his bedroom is.”

“It’s weird to hang out here without him.” He said, blowing past my not-so-subtle hint. “Shame he had to pick a college so far out of town.”

“MIT’s a great school,” I said shortly. Certainly better than Sean could ever hope to get in. The kid was going to Community College, and a year late at that.

“Oh for sure. He’s gonna make it big.” Sean pulled a magazine off a stack from the coffee table and flipped through. “Anyway, thanks again for the pad, and for putting my stuff away for me. This is why you’re the cool mom.”

“The… what?” The way he said it raised my hackles. Sean always treated me with a vague indifference. He was a thoughtless boy, never thinking far outside of his own immediate wants. For him to admit any opinion of me at all, let alone a good one, was surprising.

“You know what I mean. You’ve always been the cool mom of all our friends. Letting us hang here, making snacks stuff. And now, letting me crash for a week.” He gestured towards his duffel bag.

“Oh.”

All of those things were true, but I never thought I was doing anything above and beyond. I was always happy to have Christian’s friends over, especially since it meant keeping an eye on him. And providing food was just the polite thing to do. But from Sean’s perspective, maybe it did seem “cool” of me. God knows his mother was no star parent.

“It’s no problem,” I smiled, and picked up heavy duffel myself. He did just arrive here, and he was going through a period of big change. He should have a chance to relax and acclimate. “I’ll just take this to your room.”

Then, voluntarily, I added, “You just make yourself at home. Help yourself to anything you want.” It was the cool thing to do.

Sean’s silverware clattered on his plate. “Thanks Mrs. Lopez, that was fucking delicious.”

I looked over the remaining food and glumly noted that I had over-estimated the amount of leftovers there would be. Sean helped himself to much more than I anticipated.

“You don’t need to curse like that, but you’re very welcome.” In truth, the dish couldn’t have been easier. I could make fajitas in my sleep. Still, it was nice to be appreciated, even crudely.

“I know I don’t need to curse, but that’s what’s fucking cool about you. You don’t really care. It’s nice to be myself, y’know?”

Unfortunately, I did care. Sean was nineteen now, but it still hit a sore spot to hear him talk like that in my house. I suppose I never really got over the fact that he was the one to introduce those words to Christian way back when.

Still, in the face of his genuine gratitude, I decided to let it slide. Some rules were more important than others, and Sean wasn’t even my son. Who was I to tell him how to speak at the table?

“Anyway, I need to take a shower. Thanks again for the grub.”

“Hold up!” I said. “You’re doing these dishes!” I tried to keep it friendly sounding, but of course I meant it. Frankly, I was insulted, but not surprised, that he didn’t even offer. This was one of those rules that in my house, was worth pushing back on. It was the least he could do, and if he truly was grateful for the meal, he should want to.

But Sean just laughed. “Maybe after my shower.” He said. “Thanks for being cool about it.”

I don’t know why, but my protests got caught in my throat as he strolled upstairs. I examined the mess and sighed. After his shower. Fine. I could wait until then.

In any case, I felt relief at having some time to myself. It was strangely taxing to have Sean around. I’d known him for half his life, but Christian was always here to hold his attention.

Now, I could feel him watching me out of the corner of his eyes at all times. Even when he read magazines across the room while I cooked, I innately sensed that I had his attention.

It was a little creepy.

Seven days. I just needed to put up with him for seven days. I only hoped I’d still have my sanity when it was over.

Tuesday

I didn’t see Sean for the rest of the night. To my disappointment, he disappeared into Christian’s room after his shower. Trying to stay cool, I waited, giving him as much time as he needed to get comfortable for the night. The last thing I wanted was to seem overbearing on his first day here. But by the end of the evening, when the pile of dishes remained untouched, my good will ran out. He never intended on doing them, and I was left to pick up the slack.

Furiously, I did the job. And this morning, my anger still seethed even over a cup of coffee. When he woke up, I was going to lay into him. My hospitality was one thing, and my allowance of crude language too, but basic chores from a guest was one boundary I needed to set in stone. I reminded myself that I’d known this kid for years, and even though he was older now, I was still the authority here.

I heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs just as I took my last sip of coffee. That was perfect timing. I was alert, angry, and in control. But then I saw him turn the corner.

“Sean!” I yelped. He looked at me confused, hair mussed and eyes baggy. But even if he had just woken up, he should be aware enough to recognize the problem.

The idiot came downstairs in nothing but a pair of boxers!

Leave it to Sean to put me completely on my back foot, and entirely obliviously.

“Oh, you did the dishes. Cool, Mrs. Lopez. My mom would have thrown a fit.”

“I– You– No!” I stammered. “You were supposed to–”

“Yeah, but I really hate cleaning. It’s so cool that you like doing it. That’s why cool moms are so great. It makes the division of labor so much easier when one person likes it anyway.”

That was besides the point. I did enjoy housekeeping, but even so–

I took a moment to get my thoughts in order. Sean was nearly naked. Compared to that issue, undone dishes were only a nitpick. Especially since I liked doing them anyway. But this was totally, utterly, inappropriate.

“Sean, you need to put on some more clothes.” He yawned. “Sorry. Thanks for being cool about it. This is how I sleep and I usually get ready for the day after I eat. But I can change now if you’re really uptight about that kind of thing.”

I put my head down, rubbed my temples, and sighed. Maybe I overreacted, being so worked up about the dishes, then caught off guard by his undress. I wanted to be cool– in fact I was, letting him curse and carrying his stuff around– So–

“No… it’s fine Sean. Forget it.”

“Fuck yeah.” He said. “To be honest, when I have nothing going on I usually lounge around like this all day. So I’m glad you’re cool with it.”

“Yeah. It’s… it’s cool.” I tried the word out experimentally. For some reason, the more he used it, the more it hung around my head like a rolling fog. Sure, he was leveraging this whole “cool mom” thing to get away with stuff, but I liked the idea of it. Was that how Christian’s friends always saw me? Had I always been so… cool?

My kids certainly didn’t think so. How many times did Christian and Sofia exclaim, “God, Mom, you’re so lame!” in embarrassment at something I said or did? But kids always feel that way about their parents. Maybe Sean’s unbiased estimation of me was more than just flattery. It was nice to think.

He sat down at the table, helped himself to a cup of coffee, and grabbed a muffin. Biting into it, he let crumbs fall over the table, and I had a feeling I’d be the one wiping it down.

I sighed. I could put up with a little bit of insolence for now. Why not let him believe I was cool, at least for a little bit. Besides, it’s not like I would let it go much further than this.

I found it surprising how quickly I got used to a half-naked teen lounging around my house.

It’s not like Christian didn’t occasionally do the same thing. But that was different. He was family. And even he had the good sense not to do it when his older sister was around. And if Christian were in Sean’s position, alone in a house with a divorced woman– a mother of one of his friend’s– he certainly wouldn’t display himself like this.

Even so, the thought that Sean was just making himself comfortable soothed me. This wasn’t about me, this was just a teenager making himself at home. If anything, me making a big deal out of it was what made it weird.

As I came in from doing gardening, passing Sean who lay splayed on the couch scratching himself, I wondered what Sofia would think about this situation. Like me, my daughter was no fan of this particular friend. I counted my blessings that she wouldn’t be home from college for another few weeks. If she were here now, there’d likely be a lot more friction.

She simply wasn’t as cool about these things as I was.

“Can I get you another beer, Sean?” I asked as I passed by.

Oh, yeah. That. There maybe was a little bit more friction earlier this afternoon, when I noticed that he had snagged a bottle for himself. My initial reaction was fury. I was not going to have someone below the drinking age sipping beer under my roof. Plus, he helped himself to it without asking! Every way I looked at it, Sean way overstepped.

Then he started talking, in that oblivious, infuriating way he always does…

“Oh, I just thought you were cool with it. You know, since Christian drinks at college and all.”

My anger fizzled as the pleasant fog of being the cool mom rolled in.

“He’s not supposed to.” I explained. “I mean, I know that he does anyway. But–”

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Sean interjected. “That’s awesome! I know he really appreciates the leeway.”

“Well, these things are expected at college– but– I mean–”

“And this’ll be my last week of freedom before I start this summer term at community college. It’s just really nice to unwind. I appreciate how fuckin’ cool you are about it.”

“Right…” I mumbled. Somewhere along the way, I had completely lost the point I was trying to make. It was true I knew that Christian drank at college. With that in mind, what leg did I have to stand on with Sean? Empirically, I was cool with it. And more than that, I did say he could help himself to anything he wanted.

So here I was serving him another one. He took it, not bothering to thank me, watching some cartoon on the TV the whole time. He flung the bottle cap off into the corner, and I picked it up for him, along with his empties.

Predictably, and not very subtly, he leered at my butt. I was, well, not getting used to it, but getting better at ignoring it.

I counted four empty bottles. At this rate, I would have to buy him more.

Wednesday

“You know, Mrs. Lopez. I hope you feel like you can be comfortable in your own home, even with me here.” Sean said over the next morning’s cup of coffee. He was still in his boxers, which I was cool with, so I didn’t quite know what he was getting at.

“I’m perfectly comfortable with how you’re dressed.” I said. “As long as you are.”

“That’s really cool of you, but I didn’t mean me. You’re so dressed up. Are you going anywhere today? I thought you were on summer break.”

“Well. I am…” I admitted. My summer off from teaching had just begun, and for the time being, I had no plans other than recharging at home. I examined myself. Today I wore the typical slacks and a light sweater. Maybe it wasn’t the most lounge-worthy outfit, but it was a far cry from overdressed. What exactly was Sean getting at?

“This is how I always dress.”

Sean shrugged. “If you say so. I just don’t want you to feel like you have to put on airs around me. You’re a cool mom, if you wanted to hang around in your underwear all day, I wouldn’t want to get in the way of that.”

My eyes widened. Is that what he thought of me? That I was so relaxed, so casual, I’d be comfortable getting undressed with him? I pictured myself, in a bra and panties, parading around with a teenage boy in the house. That would certainly earn me “cool” points, but–

“That’s– I appreciate your concern. But no. I’m quite alright.” Sean was peeking at my body enough. I had no intention of encouraging that.

“Whatever.” Sean said. “Just putting it out there. I’m gonna go lay by the pool.”

Naturally, he left his morning dishes behind. As I washed them, I couldn’t help but be aware of my stiff pants and my itchy sweater. Why did I wear these on such a hot summer day?

“Mrs. Lopez, you changed! You look much more comfortable.”

I don’t know why I was embarrassed about the situation. I had simply put on some sleeping shorts and a tank top. Switching into soft, thin cotton made a world of difference, and I did have Sean to thank for giving me the all-clear to dress down.

Maybe my embarrasment was because he had me dead to rights. He knew I did this because of him. But it wasn’t because of him. It’s not like he told to me to do this. For one, I hadn’t stripped down to my underwear like he suggested. It was sleepwear, loungwear even, and I did it mostly to make him feel less out of place in his boxers. Besides, in lighter layers, I could save some money on AC.

“Thanks, Sean. Yeah. How was your morning in the sun?”

“Super fucking nice. You oughta join me next time.” There was something about the way he spoke to me. He had an easy confidence, like he felt like he could get me to do whatever he wanted. But no, I wasn’t going to tan with him, or anything like that.

But it was beginning to seem like every time I told him “No,” he found a way to convince me otherwise. I was starting to grow averse to saying it, so instead I smiled and said, “Maybe.” “Cool.” He said, and my head swam a little bit.

I didn’t like the way this conversation was going, so I latched on to the first change of subject I could grasp. It was noon, and Sean had a full day of relaxing ahead of him. “Do you want a beer?”

“Fuck yeah.” He collapsed into the couch and stuck up his feet into the usual position. When I popped the cap and handed him the drink, he sighed contentedly. “Man, this is the life. A milf like you serving me beers, I could get used to this!”

“Sean!” I scolded. I was no idiot, and I knew exactly what that phrase meant. What cool mom didn’t? Mother I’d like to–

“What! It’s a compliment. You’re sexy as hell, Mrs. Lopez. And I had no idea your tits were so huge.”

“You can’t talk about me like that, though.” I said sternly. “I’m serious.”

Here we were again, me telling him something that he couldn’t do. Why did he have to be so precocious? Why did he have to keep pushing his luck? And why was I so afraid that he could talk me into allowing this? This was the line. So obviously the line.

“Sorry, but, I have eyes. I thought you’d be cool with a little honesty.”

“I– I’m not– I mean I am but–”

“C’mon, I know it’s cool.”

What about this kid flustered me so much? He was just a nineteen year old punk, and yes, of course I knew he had eyes. Surely he’d notice my chest in something as flimsy as a tank top. My breasts were generous, which is why I normally wore sweaters.

Now I was acting shocked that he was noticing them. And commenting on them. Did I think a kid who was bold enough to check me out all day in sweaters and blouses wouldn’t do that?

I guess I knew what I was signing up for when I put this on.

“You’re always so gracious about compliments. That’s part of what’s cool about you. Some moms, I feel like I have to watch my mouth. But not around you. I can say that you’re food is fucking good, or that you have a nice fucking body.”

“I– thank you–” I muttered. Had I forgotten to thank him? That didn’t sound like me. “But, maybe don’t.. I mean..”

“It’s cool,” he said. “I know you appreciate. Cool moms love compliments. And you’re a cool, hot, mom. Thanks for the beer.”

“Right…” I said.

Something about the exchange felt like it didn’t go my way, but now I felt entirely turned around. Was telling him not to pay me compliments really the hill I wanted to die on?

Now that I thought about it, it felt needlessly stuck-up. They were just harmless words. And he was being honest. Hadn’t I always told my kids to be honest?

More than that, now that the shock had passed, it was admittedly a rare treat to be complimented on my body. With both kids in college, I kept telling myself it was time to start dating again, but I never did. This was the first positive male attention I’d received in years, and I’d forgotten how much I loved it.

If I focused only on the ego-boost, I could almost fool myself into forgetting it was Sean that gave it to me.

“God, I really shouldn’t be telling you this!”

“Why not?” Sean asked innocently.

I turned the wine glass around in my hand. I started to regret letting Sean talk me into having one because, well, one turned into two. And two turned into four. But he thought it was so cool that I was doing it, and I couldn’t stop from pouring more.

“Come on…” he probed. “You got divorced six years ago, so… When was the last time?”

A lump caught in my throat. So much about this situation was wrong. I wished I was wearing more than the sleepwear I changed into this morning. I wished he had a pair of pants on. And I really wished I was sober. Why did I have to be the cool mom?

“Seven years.” I said curtly.

“Seven years?! A bombshell like you hasn’t fucked in seven years?!”

“Sean!”

“Had sex, or whatever you want to call it. Damn, Elena.”

That was another thing he started doing. Calling me by my first name. I think I protested the first time, but in my tipsy haze I couldn’t exactly remember. Cool moms go by their first name, after all. Why didn’t I insist on going by Elena from day one?

Sean finished his beer with one big gulp. “Do you at least masturbate?”

“I– no, I’m not saying.” I said, pantomiming a zipper across my lips.

“Come oooon.”

“I know I’m the cool mom, but I’m not telling you about that. Let’s change the subject.”

My heart pounded. Now that I said it out loud, I could only think of reasons of why I should talk about it. Cool moms are sex positive.

Cool moms are open books.

“Cool moms like to dish.” Sean said.

Another good reason. He was full of them tonight.

“Fine. Once a month. Maybe twice. That’s all you’re getting out of me.”

In this state, euphoric from the alcohol and buzzing with Sean’s dizzying presence, I didn’t trust myself not to dish more details. Like about the little pink toy I owned, and what I fantasized about while I used it. But… it would be pretty sex positive to talk about it.

Thankfully, he didn’t probe deeper. But what he did say wasn’t much better. “Damn. I jack off like, every night.”

“Okay, that’s enough.”

I didn’t need to hear about this. This was my son’s friend. There should be a boundary somewhere in this candid conversation. Masturbation was as good as any.

Especially knowing that he was probably doing this in my house, too. Teenage boys didn’t stop for anything, and with a milf like me walking around…

“Nah, you don’t mind hearing about that, do you? I mean, you’re a cool mom. You probably wouldn’t care if I jacked off wherever and whenever I wanted.”

Not that I minded hearing about it. Boys masturbated, it wasn’t that big of a deal. In fact, he could do it wherever and whenever… No. Not whenever.

My glass was finally empty. “I think it’s time for bed.” I announced, pushing that insane leap of logic out of my head. Wherever and whenever?Better just pretend he never said it than to push back on it.

Sean smirked. “Uh huh. Time for…” He put up air quotes, “Bed.”

The implication wasn’t lost on me. “I didn’t mean– Sean!” I punched him lightly on the arm. “I’m not a horny teenager like some people.”

“Nah, it’s cool you’re so open about when you masturbate.” He looked at me with those innocent, oblivious eyes. Just because I told him how often I did it, didn’t mean I was going to announce when I did.

And I definitely wouldn’t be. Not tonight.

But after I slipped into bed, tipsy and a little turned on, I thought about what he said. “You probably wouldn’t care if I jacked off wherever and whenever I wanted.” Well sure, if he did it in his room every night, who was I to stop him? He was probably doing it right now. He was a teenager, with teenage urges. I didn’t care. I was cool with that. Whenever and… wherever. Within reason.

And why should I be so bothered if he knew I did it too? He already thought I was doing it tonight, whether or not I did. He all but accused me of it, with that sly smirk and inscrutable energy. I wondered if he was picturing it, cock in hand, eyes closed. Seeing me, legs spread and pants-less, going at myself in hushed need, while he stroked himself.

My mind drifted to the little pink toy at the bottom of my draw, with its pulsating rhythms and curved tip that hit just the right spots… I hadn’t even gotten the chance to tell him about it. He wouldn’t even know to add it to his fantasies. Maybe he thought I was using my fingers. Or maybe, in his minds eye, he envisioned me using something even bigger. Some exaggerated monster dildo born from teenage imagination.

Not that it mattered. He’d get off to it all the same, this fantasy of me pleasuring myself down the hall. He’d see it while he pumped away, eyes closed, so that only I filled his mind. He’d probably even picture both of us orgasming at the same time, me curling and shivering in rapture, unable to hold back a throaty moan, my mind fixated on what he must be doing, on him orgasming too.

It was ridiculous. So utterly ridiculous. Of all the things to think about, Sean touching himself should be the very last thing on my mind. I’d come up with something else, anything else, to fantasize about. Anything but Sean and his young body. Sean and his teenage vitality. Sean and his cocksure impulses.

Sean, who thought I was cool.

I couldn’t take it anymore. Something had given me shivers that couldn’t be ignored any longer. Something had pushed me out of my head and into my body, where my physical needs lie in wait.

I reached for the drawer, moist with anticipation.