Blue Velvet Ch. 11

She slid a piece of paper into my hand and said softly, "Here's my number, and I want you to call me, please." And she turned away, slid out of the car and closed the door before walking slowly up the walk purposefully up the sidewalk to her home.

I watched for a matter of seconds after she closed the front door. As the light came on in her front room I put the car in gear and drove off. I stopped at the first major intersection and realized that I still had the scrap of paper with her phone number on it clenched in my hand.

I started to toss the paper in the ashtray with all the other phone numbers from the past, but something kept me from so easily discarding this number. I reached into my back pocket, retrieved my wallet and slid the number inside the billfold before replacing the wallet in my pocket.

"This gal might be fun to hang out with for a while." I thought to myself as I put my foot down on the accelerator and turned toward home.

I pulled up in the drive and got out of the station wagon. I walked to the front door, opened it without knocking and walked inside.

"Damn, you scared the life out of me!" Mom yelled in a shaky voice as she hurriedly pulled an afghan over her lap.

"Sorry mom, " I said apologetically. "I thought you heard me."

"I must have been gathering wool." She responded in a perplexed tone. She shook her head and continued, "I thought that you would be home sooner. Your dinner is in the kitchen, I can warm it up if you like."

"No Mom, I can take care of it. You just relax." I said as I walked across the room toward the hallway and my room.

"Aren't you even going to kiss your mother hello?" She asked huffily.

"Oh yeah, sure Mom. I'm sorry." I responded apologetically as I turned and walked back to her.

I bent over to kiss her on the forehead. Mom tilted her face up toward mine and put a warm, soft, yet maternal kiss on my lips.

I stayed bent over looking at her for a moment. She had an odd look on her face, a look of sadness that made her look careworn and older than she was. It was probably just caused by her period, the cramps and bloating always made her miserable. For some reason I put my hand to her head, gently stroked her hair and asked, "You feeling ok?"

She looked at me with the sadness still in her eyes but she mustered a weak smile and replied, "Yeah baby, I'm fine." Then she seemed to choke back a tear and still smiling that odd smile at me she said in a slightly tremulous voice, "Well you better be getting to your dinner."

"Oh yeah." I replied and I straightened up and headed for my bedroom.

Although I had showered at Peggy's, I was still wearing the same clothes that I had worn all day. I knew that I must stink of a mixture of cleaning solvent, booze, semen, and cunt juice.

I walked into me room and pushed the door closed. I pulled the dope out of my pocket and put it on the shelf in my closet next to the coke. Then I went to my dresser and pulled out a clean change of clothing. I carried those to the bathroom and stripped down.

I ran the water in the shower and stepped under the warm flow from the showerhead. I shampooed and carefully washed my body again to remove the stench from my work clothes.

I grabbed the towel from the rack and toweled myself dry before stepping from the shower and shaving for the second time today. Before putting on my clothes I splashed on some old spice and sprayed myself good with right guard deodorant before pulling in a fresh t-shirt. Then I opened the door and walked to the kitchen.

I lifted the top on the first pan and saw that Mom had fixed pork chops. It was my favorite meat dish. I lifted the other lids and found one of my other favorite dishes under each one. I felt like a dog, Mom had made me all my favorite foods and I had been out drinking and fucking bimbos.

I filled a plate and yelled toward the living room, "Great chow Mom!"

She yelled back, "Do you want me to warm it up?"

I replied, "Nope, it's still warm. I'll just have it the way it is."

I had a terrible case of the munchies and I ate everything on the stove before I was done and washed it down with half a pot of coffee. Then feeling totally sober, full, and fully caffeinated I got up and swaggered toward the living room.

As I walked down the hallway to the living room I encountered Mom moving in the other direction. "Gotta go potty." She explained as she walked past me.

As she passed me I asked in a voice that dripped feigned misery, "Aren't you going to kiss your only son?" I figured that what was good for the goose was good for the gander. Besides maybe I wasn't totally sober after all.

"Yeah, sure honey." Mom replied as she turned back toward me and puckered up.

I kissed her a brushing kiss and then turned around and said grandly, "Great kiss my lady."

She looked at me quizzically and said, "Yeah, ok." Then she quickly turned and raced for the bathroom. As she walked away I noticed that she was wearing one of my old t-shirts and some old gray sweat pants that I had used when I ran track in High School.

I walked to the living room and sat down in my favorite chair. There was a rerun of an old sitcom playing on the tube. It wasn't one that I liked and besides I had already seen this episode at least a couple of times. I got up and changed the channel, there wasn't much on tonight and ended up deciding on an old movie.

As I started back to my chair I noticed a drink sitting next to Mom's seat. I bent over and picked up the glass and looked at it. "Looks like orange juice." I thought. I took a sip, "Damn, it's orange juice." I said softly. Mom had been hitting the booze pretty heavily lately and it was mildly surprising to find her with a glass full of something that wasn't well fortified with alcohol.

Mom came back a few minutes later saying as she walked, "I hate this time of month. Between changing my tampon and pissing, I spend half my time in the bathroom. The other half I spend wondering why I deserve such torture."

"What torture?" I asked.

"Bloating and cramps." She confessed with a frown as she tucked her legs up under herself and pulled the afghan over her lap. "Mmmmngh." she grunted with a grimace. "There goes another one, cramp that is. You can't feel the bloating, but it's there, and I see it every time I look into the mirror"

"You look lovely." I said sincerely, trying to make her feel better.

"You're a big fucking liar." She exclaimed harshly. "But that was sweet baby. Thank you." She concluded more softly.

Mom didn't use fuck very often in a sentence and it was a surprise to hear it now. "She must be really hurting." I thought.

"Is there anything that I can do for you? Rub your stomach or something?" I asked as casually as I could. A son doesn't want his mother to know that he cares, ya know.

She thought about that for a minute more than I had expected before answering, "I don't think that there's anything that you can do sweetie. But thanks all the same."

I said, "Ok." And went back to watching the old movie.

About five minutes later Mom grunted again, "Unnnngh." She said with a grimace. "Those Midol's that I've been taking just don't seem to work this time." She grimaced again and said, "I feel like someone kicked me in the stomach last night. I didn't fall against anything did I?"

"Not that I remember." I said quickly. 'Although we did slap bellies a bit.' I thought to myself with a smile.

"Now what the hell are you smiling at?" She asked defensively.

"Nothing much Mom." I replied quickly. "I was just thinking about how much fun it was to go out with you is all." I said truthfully, but understating the facts of course.

She looked at me approvingly and said, "Well thank you very much. But I sure seem to be paying for it tonight." She continued before grimacing with an apparent cramp.

We sat there for a few minutes watching the flick. While we watched my mind touched on something a gal had told me quite a while ago about herself and menstrual cramps. She had said something about how when she was menstruating she liked to smoke a joint or two. She maintained that it helped lessen the discomfort.

I looked over at Mom and thought, 'Naw, she'd never go for it.' But since you never know till you try I ventured, "Mom, have you ever smoked pot?"

She turned her head, looked at me in her best probing manner, and responded with that mixture of severity and curiosity in her voice that just seems to come naturally to mothers, "Why do you ask young man?"

"Well." I began warily, "I understand that it makes it easier on you when you're a woman and you are, you know..." I finished clumsily, muttering like a ninny and in total embarrassment.

"Not really." She said looking at me like I was a total nut job. Then the light went on in her eyes and she said, "Oh, I see what you mean. You're saying that it makes it easier for you when you're menstruating."

Relieved by her neutral response I said pleasantly, "Well I have never personally menstruated. But that's the gist of it."

She said, "I don't know if that's true, although somebody told me that once too."

She looked at me long and hard before continuing, "And yes, I have tried pot a time or two. Your Dad and I experimented with it in the late sixties, but I haven't smoked any in years."

My jaw must have fallen because she laughed softly and said, "Don't look so shocked. Your Mom wasn't born yesterday you know." She stopped for a second before continuing, "Why? Do you have some?"

"Some what?" I asked self-consciously.

"Pot." She said. "This is what this conversation is about isn't it?" she demanded softly.

I replied, "Yeah, I guess so." I paused for a second and asked, "And if I did would you want to try some?"

She replied a lot more quickly than I expected, "Yeah, sure. Why not."

I was frankly rather shocked that she had agreed, and it must have shown on my face because she said, "Better close your mouth or a fly's going to get in." Then she asked, "Well do you have any pot or not?"

"Yeah, I do." I replied as I rose from my chair and walked to my room.

I pulled the packet of bud from its hiding place and opened it. I took the rolled joint out, repacked the bud and replaced it in its place on the shelf. Then I remembered the coke from the previous night. I opened the baggie and was about to dip the end of the joint in the white powder. But I reconsidered, resealed the baggie and put it back next to the dope.

Carrying the joint in my hand I walked self-consciously back into the living room. I had never smoked dope with my mother, obviously, and even though she had consented to this experiment it still felt very odd.

My head veritably spun as I sat down on the couch next to mom. The look on her face showed that she was feeling weird too, but probably not as weird as I did.

Mom didn't smoke but she always kept ashtrays and books of matches out for guests. I pulled an ashtray over in front of me, and held the joint out to Mom. She took the joint, put and put it between her lips. Picking up a book of matches I pulled one match free and lit it. I placed the flame to the end of the joint and she drew in the aromatic smoke.

She pulled in a huge lung full of smoke and handed the joint to me. I put the joint between my lips and I took a huge toke. I knew in that first minute that she had more than simply 'experimented' with pot.

She held her lung full of smoke until I handed the joint back to her. She blew out the smoke and took another toke. "This is good shit!" She grunted hoarsely while still holding her toke in.

I expelled the smoke from my lungs and said, "Yeah Mom it is. Its really good shit!" before taking the joint for another toke of my own.

As I was about to put the joint to my lips I got to thinking about the way Julie and Peggy had smoked the dope this afternoon and asked, "You want to be super charged?"

Mom expelled the smoke from her lungs. The smoke rolling lazily from her mouth makes her look so sexy. 'I sure would love to kiss her right now.' I thought while I waited for her reply.

"Supercharged? What's that?" She asked hoarsely.

"It's when I take a mouthful of smoke and blow it into your mouth. It forces more smoke into your lungs than you normally can get. It's kind of neat and it gets you stoned faster." I explained as I lifted the joint to my lips.

Mom thought about it for only a second before responding, "Sounds good to me. Go ahead if you want."

I put the joint to my lips, motioned to mom to move closer, and proceeded to fill my mouth with the acrid marijuana smoke. Mom slid as close as she could to me and sat there expectantly looking at me. When I could hold no more smoke in my mouth I pulled the joint away, leaned toward mom, and put my lips to hers.

My lips touched hers and I commenced to fill her lungs with the smoke from the joint. She started to pull away after a second; I guess that the sheer volume of smoke pouring into her mouth surprised her. I'd seen this happen before and I put my hand to the back of her head and pulled her lips tight against mine.

Mom opened her mouth as I pressed my lips to hers and sucked in all of the smoke from my mouth. Our lips remained pressed together even after all the smoke had been transferred as we shared a soft sweet kiss.

When I finally pulled away I watched as the smoke rolled from her warm lips. Then I looked in her eyes and saw a look of confusion and soft passion there.

Mom let the smoke slowly drift from her mouth. I leaned in and pressed my lips to hers and we shared a soft warm kiss before I finally pulled back to take another toke for myself.

Mom and I sat there sharing the joint until it was a roach. Then Mom showed me how to make a Jefferson Airplane and we finish the joint off completely.

"Wow! That is some far out weed man." Mom gushed as she turned around and leaned back against me.

I chuckled at the way she talked, all San Francisco Hippy like. 'It's so cute.' I thought to myself.

I'd had my arm draped along the back of the couch, she took my hand and pulled it down, draping my arm over her shoulder. Holding my hand in both of hers she fidgeted with my fingers and said in mock indignation, "Hey man, don't make fun of the way I talk."

"Ok Mom, I won't. It is just so cool. I never knew that you were hip." I said giggling.

"Your mom is about as hip as it gets, man." She said giggling too.

Still laughing, she leaned the back of her head against my shoulder. "This is nice." She said.

"Yeah it is." I responded, putting my other hand to the back of her head and stroking her hair.

She sat up a little and looked at me in a weird way before turning her head back around and leaning back against me again. The warmth of her body against mine made me feel warm inside. I wanted to hold her tight and make her feel safe.

The way that she held my hand, my fingers brushed lightly against the top of her breasts. If I hadn't been pretty much all sexed out I probably would have attempted to grope her. But as it was, I had my hormones pretty much under control at that moment so I didn't do anything to get myself slapped or anything.

"I haven't felt this good in ages." She soothed. "I remember how your father and I would get high and just sit and rap for ages. Then we would make love and..." She stopped self-consciously and continued apologetically, "I'm sorry baby. I bet you didn't want to hear all about that stuff did you?"

"No Mom, it's alright. Tell me anything you want to." I said with true interest.

"No, it's dead history anyway." She said sadly.

"History isn't dead, just the people in it." I quoted from one of her lectures to me while I was struggling in school.

She laughed and then she said, "Ok, but not too graphic." She continued slowly and self-consciously, "Your Dad and I didn't do drugs much. Just a few times and never when you were around." She paused for a second and tumbled on, "We would send you to your grand parents for a weekend and then we would get stoned and lay around the house listening to music, and making love. Sometimes we would get dressed up and go down to the hippy section of town and take in a few clubs."

"I sure would have liked to see you then." I said.

"You did. You were around back then too." She replied in a puzzled voice.

"Yeah, I know that." I stated. "But I sure would like to have seen you dressed up like some hippy mamma. I bet you were one far out fox." I concluded.

"Well I didn't really look much different than I do now, just cooler." She giggled and then continued, "Besides I've still got all my old clothes in the closet somewhere. You know me, I never throw anything away."

"Cool!" I enthused. "Can I see you in them? If you put the hippy clothes on I'll put on some music." I finished with a grin.

She paused for a moment before replying, "Sure, I think that I can still fit into them. But don't laugh." She paused for a second as if she had lost her train of thought, then she amended softly, "But we'll have to do it some other time. Right now I don't really think that I could get into it."

"Ok Mom, anytime you want." I replied quietly.

"Your so understanding baby." Mom enthused as she brought my fingers to her lips for a kiss.

We lapsed into silence following that exchange. I returned my attention to the old movie on the TV while Mom seemed lost in her thoughts as she continued to nervously fiddle with my fingers.

The movie was coming to its finale and the credits ran as Mom let go of my fingers and her hands dropped away. I sat there for a minute trying to decide whether to wake her up or let her sleep. She seemed so peaceful that I decided to let her sleep and watched the television as the movie faded out and the nightly news came on.

With Mom's hands removed from my fingers I began to almost automatically move them in a light pattern across the soft flesh of her breast. The feel of her soft flesh against my fingers was so nice and comforting. But the trail of my fingertips on her skin roused Mom from her light sleep.

"Damn, I must have drifted off." She muttered groggily.

"Yeah, guess you did." I confirmed softly before adding, "I was about to head to bed myself."

Mom sat up, rose unsteadily from the couch, and then turned toward me with her arms extended. I sat there just looking at her for a second, not really understanding what she wanted. Then she waved her hands at me and commanded softly, "Come on sweetie. It's time for bed."

I put my hands in hers and allowed her to pull me from the couch. Then with one of my hands still held in hers she set off for the hallway and the bedrooms.

"Gotta shut off the tube." I objected and we walked to the TV and I turned it off before heading off toward the hall again. As we passed the light switch I turned off the lights in the living room and we walked hand in hand down the hall.

I fully expected Mom to stop at her bedroom door and go in, but instead she kept her grip on my hand and headed straight down the hall to my room. She opened the door and walked in before she let go of my hand and walked across the room. I stood there dumbly watching her walk around the bed, pull the covers down and sit down on the bed.

"Aren't you coming to bed sweetie?" she asked as she pulled the sweatpants off.

"Oh yeah." I replied slowly as I came out of my momentary trance.

I watched Mom drop her sweatpants to the floor and pivot on the bed. In the split second before she pulled the covers over her body, I got a clear view of her white cotton panties and shapely legs. "Come on, baby. Turn off the light and come to bed." She instructed as she nestled her head against the pillow.

"Sure Sarah." I replied, for some reason using her given name instead of her title.

She looked up at me and smiled softly before affirming quietly, "That's a good boy, baby." Then she lifted the covers on my side of the bed to make it easier for me to get in.