Mother-in-law Sweet

"Morning," she said, standing on tiptoes to give him a peck on the cheek. She recoiled instantly. "Ugh, Mike. You smell like my mother."

"Yeah, she wears a uh, a lot of perfume hey?" He laughed nervously. Hand shoved in pocket, he held his shaft down, praying she wouldn't notice.

"God, so much." Kendra rolled her eyes. "You need to wash that shit off, ASAP. Right after I'm done." She patted him on the face and gave him a sleepy smile.

"I will." Mike returned the smile. "I'll go get the coffee started." Offering a silent prayer of thanks to whomever was listening, he slipped out the bathroom door and closed it. Letting go of his hard-on, it sprang back out, straining against the fabric; he held tight to the panties stuffed deep in the pocket. Head still spinning, he wandered downstairs and into the kitchen.

Vivien was standing at the island, quietly sipping an over sized cup of coffee with her back to him. She was wearing an abbreviated pair of satin shorts with pink pinstripes that seemed to be sucked deep into the welcoming crevasse of her behind, and an oversizes satin shirt in the same color. She stood up straight on her tiptoes, making the muscles of her lean calves bunch, and clenching the perfect globes of her ass. Mike watched her and rubbed the fabric of her panties between his fingers.

"Good morning, Michael," she said without turning around. "Enjoying yourself?" He pulled his hand out of his pocket immediately.

"No,I just came down to make coffee," he said. "Did you make some already?"

"Just enough for me, I'm afraid," Vivien turned around and hopped up onto the island, her mouth twisted into a mocking pout. Her eyes trailed lazily down his chest, to rest on his crotch. "I see someone is having a good morning. I take it you enjoyed my gift?" Her nipples drilled through the loose fabric of her pajama shirt, which was unbuttoned just enough to show off a deep well of creamy tit flesh.

"No, what gift?" He could feel his face turning pink. She curled a finger at him.

"The little present I left for you on your night stand, darling," Vivien purred. "We wouldn't want my daughter finding it first, now would we?" Mike shuffled forward, in spite of himself. "Of course, if you're lucky maybe you can tell her it's a little something for her, couldn't you? Would you like that, Michael? If Kendra started dressing like me? If she slid into some teensy tiny little thong, my thong, just for you? Do you like the thought of my daughter putting on a pair of my underwear, after I've already worn them?"

"What? No, that's disgusting." Mike said.

"Oh I know honey," she said. "Poor little Kendra would look disgusting in my thong; poor child simply doesn't have my genes." Vivien slid one hand down across the broad sweep of her hips. "I'm sure they'd hang off her."

"No, I mean how can you talk about your daughter that way?" He protested, coming within arm's length of her.

"Oh Michael. I'm just having a little fun at her expense," she chuckled. "It's how we've always gotten along. Besides, your protests would be much more convincing if it wasn't for that thing." She gestured at his unflagging erection. "Or..." Vivien hopped down and stepped closer. "...if I couldn't smell my panties all over your face." One hand trailed across his firm stomach, toying with the kinky curls of hair that trailed down into his pants.

"Anyway," Vivien said, plucking one button on her sleep shirt, letting her breasts push it open even further. Mike could see the inside curves of her tits, nipples *just* beyond the limit of his vision. "I suppose I should go and get dressed. I'll be up in my room if you need me, Michael." She walked past him, and out of the kitchen, plucking another button. He watched the shirt sag as it opened all the way and tried not to envision what it looked like from the front.

What had he even come down here for in the first place? "Shit. Coffee, right. Coffee."

* * *

Mike sat at his desk, not really reading the document on-screen. His right hand was buried deep in his pocket, gently rubbing the fabric of Vivien's panties. He'd spent all morning either touching them or thinking about touching them. He hadn't planned to bring them to work, but there just hadn't been any opportunity (or so he said to himself) to hide them properly someplace Kendra wouldn't be likely to look.

His phone rang. "Hello?"

"Hey, Mike. It's Darren, from Security. There's a lady down here to see you. Says she's your mother."

"Mom?" Mike felt his heart leap into his throat. His mom lived on the other side of town. He didn't think she'd ever even been to his building before; there must be something going on. "Yeah, sure Darren. I'll be right down."

"No rush," the security guard said, and her could hear a woman's laughter somewhere on the other end of the line, which disconnected soon after. He stared at the receiver for a moment, then hung up.

"What the hell?" Mike said, then rushed out of his office to the elevator bank. He impatiently tapped his foot through the dozen or so floors to the lobby level, then darted through the incoming crowd once the doors opened. He wove through a crowd of lunchgoers and slipped out the gate; Darren and his partner were both standing in front of the Security desk, busily laughing and chatting. As he rounded the corner, he saw that they were walking to Vivien, who was standing very close to Darren, and lightly fingering his security badge as they spoke. She was wearing a tight, navy blue shirtdress that fell to just above her knee; the buttons down the front had been opened from above and below to reveal a long expanse of smooth inner thigh, and the depths of her cleavage, from which Darren's eyes didn't seem capable of escaping. Her bright red pumps matched the narrow leather belt around her waist and the slash of lipstick across her smiling lips. One of her legs was between the security guard's as she leaned close to say something in his ear.

"What the fuck is THIS?" Mike said, striding angrily towards them. "Darren, what the fuck?" The guard blushed, and both he and his colleague scurried back behind their desk.

"Michael honey, we were just having a little talk while we waited for you," Vivien gave him a million-watt smile and gestured at the other men, while he closed the distance between them, suddenly back within range of her perfume. He took her by the elbow.

"Surely you're not jealous, are you?" She teased, stepping into him and pressing her swelling breasts into his body. Again, he found himself staring slightly up into her cool green gaze. "After all, it would be *so* wrong to be jealous of some young man talking to your mother-in-law. Don't you think?"

"Yeah, yeah I guess." Mike's anger deflated, but he shot Darren a look nonetheless. The security guard, for his part, looked studiously at his monitor. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"Well," she said, taking one small step back. "I was in this part of town, and just about to take lunch with a dear old friend, and I thought I'd come by to see if you were interested in coming along."

"What about Ken?"

"Well of course she's invited, sweetheart. She is my daughter, after all." Vivien hooked her arm through his. "Shall we go?"

Sure enough, Kendra was waiting outside in the back seat of a town car idling by the door. Vivien slid inside first and Mike squeezed in next to her, trying to maintain a maximum of space between them. The split in her skirt widened as she crossed her legs, showing off an ever-longer slice of creamery smooth, toned thigh. Kendra cleared her throat, and he glanced over to see her shooting him a dirty look.

"Hi honey," he said. She pulled her cardigan tight around her body, and looked out the window. "So, uh. Where are we headed?"

"Well," said Vivien, laying a hand on his knee. "La Douceur does a lovely brunch and I know how much you liked it there last night." Her daughter made a noise somewhere in her throat at that. "So I thought we could meet Nancy and her co-worker there for a friendly family lunch." Her hand lingered on his knee, tracing a figure eight with her index finger.

"Great," his wife grumbled. "Now we've got to put up with the two of you. Just how I wanted to spend my lunch hour."

"Kendra, don't be so ungrateful," Vivien said sternly. "And sit up straight. Driver, La Douceur, please."

The drive was spent in an awkward silence that Mike occasionally tried to break by asking about Kendra's morning, her workplace, whatever ongoing projects she had on the hob, to no substantial effect. It certainly didn't help that every time his wife began to speak, her mother would move her hand on his knee, or recross her legs, or adjust the collar of her dress *just* enough to refocus his gaze back to Vivien, making it difficult to converse.

When they pulled up to the restaurant, the valet was quick to open Mike's door and lend Vivien a hand after he'd stepped out; when he showed no interest in rounding the car to open Kendra's door, she huffed and puffed and let herself out.

"Come on now, Kendra sweetheart," Vivien called out as she waited for her daughter. Mike followed close behind as they walked into the restaurant together; his wife looked like a child next to her mother, dressed in her ballet flats and long, baggy flower-print dress. He'd always appreciated Kendra's slim form before, but Mike couldn't help but let his gaze be drawn to the twitching motion of Vivien's firm, prominent behind as it sashayed back and forth, or the subtle line of her muscular calves, enhanced by the tall heels of her pumps. Even her hair looked especially dull next to Vivien's vibrant mane.

The waiter led them inside, where Nancy and her friend, a tall, buff-looking young blond man were already seated at one of the tables. As Vivien approached, Nancy leapt to her feet, honey-blond curls and mature breasts bouncing in time as she did.

"Vivien, darling!" The estate agent enthused as she came around the table; she was wearing a high-necked white silk blouse that could do nothing to hide the twin globes of her enormous breasts, and a loose but scandalously short red wraparound skirt that looked as though it had been painted onto the delicious curve of her behind, enhanced as it was by the dangerously high heels of her black, peep-toe ankle boots.

"Nancy, it's been *forever*," Vivien replied as they embraced, kissing each other on the cheek. "Who is your young man?"

"Oh that's Tommy," the blond said, letting go of Vivien to embrace Mike in a long, lingering hug. "He's one of our lovely interns at the office, but I'm thinking of keeping him around." Tom smiled, and waved nervously. "And of course I already know Mike and Kendra. How simply *wonderful* to see you both!"

The waiter seated Mike next to Tom, and Vivien between himself and Kendra. They ordered drinks, and suddenly Mike felt something plucking at his pants; glancing down, he saw that Vivien's long fingers were stealing inside the pocket where he'd secreted her panties. As Nancy engaged Kendra in conversation, he shot her mother a panicked look. Vivien simply winked, and he felt the warmth of her hand sliding over his thigh. He sat as still as he could, not saying a word, as his mother in law leaned back slightly in her chair and slid her hand deeper inside his pocket, until her fingers discovered the treasure tucked away in the furthest corner. Vivien chuckled softly, and withdrew her hand again. Mike dropped his napkin in his lap to hide the sudden swelling there. Under the table, he could feel the toe of her shoe lifting the hem of his pant leg and gently stroking his leg.

Their drinks arrived. Tom excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Nancy told him she'd order for him if the waiter returned before he did. In fact, when the waiter arrived, Vivien and Nancy took the liberty of ordering for the whole table. Mike began to object, but Vivien's hand stole back into his lap, and the words fell out of his mouth; Kendra just sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Maybe I should go and see what's keeping Tommy," Nancy said after a few minutes of waiting. She stood, and headed towards the back of the restaurant.

"Kendra," Vivien said in a low voice. "It won't kill you to be civil. This is meant to be a friendly luncheon."

Mike watched as his wife's face twisted into a mask of scorn. "Friendly?" She spat. "Yes, I'll it's real friendly. And if I wasn't here I bet it'd be even *friendlier*." The acid in her voice could have etched glass.

"And what is that supposed to mean, young lady?" Vivien said.

"You know damn well what I mean, mother." Kendra took a long pull of her drink, a seven-and-seven which seemed pretty heavy for a lunchtime aperitif to Mike.

"No, I'm fairly certain that I do not," the elder redhead's face was a mask of impassivity.

"You think I don't know what you're trying to do?" Mike watched as his wife emptied the whiskey tumbler; a handy waiter appeared to take the glass and replace it with a full one. "We both know that if I hadn't agreed to tag along with you on this- this-" she struggled for words, and took another drink. "Whateveritis."

"Michael," Vivien said in an even tone. "Perhaps you should step away from the table for a moment while I have a conversation with my daughter."

"Uh-" he began, then Kendra slammed her drink down on the tablecloth.

"Just do what she says, Mike. Be a good boy and go away for a minute." She sneered at her mother.

"Hey, look-"

"Michael." There was iron in Vivien's voice. "Go and check on Thomas. Now, please." Mother and daughter stared daggers at one another. Gingerly putting his napkin back on the table, as though he were afraid it would set off an explosion, Mike slowly pushed back from the table and got up.

Stepping away from the table, he watched as Kendra and Vivien's heads came together and they began to trade verbal blows at a just-less-than-audible volume. He flagged down a waiter and asked for directions to the washroom, and was waved towards a dim corridor at the back of the restaurant.

He pushed his way through the mens' room door, and found it a finely-appointed affair of marble and gold; the attendant's chair was empty, but a thick wad of bills sat in his tips cup, next to an array of toiletries. As the door quietly *whooshed* closed, Mike thought heard somebody grunting in one of the stalls, and grinned. He'd had those mornings, too. He opened his mouth to call out to Tom but the words died on his lips when he heard a decidedly female gasp.

"Oh *my* Tommy," Nancy's voice wafted out from one of the stalls. "I knew you wouldn't disappoint."

"Mrs. Perillo," Tom grunted. "I don't- I don't think this is a good-" his voice was suddenly muffled by something, and Mike heard the sound of clothes rustling. He could clearly see Toms legs under one of the stall doors; slowly approaching (after he checked to make sure that the other stalls were empty), he put his eye up against the crack between the wall and the door.

Nancy was sitting squarely on Tom's lap, tiny red skirt rucked up over her hips as she spread her legs around his body, the heel of one boot braced against the wall behind him, all the muscles in that long leg standing out as she held herself there. Her arms held his head tightly to her prodigious chest while she rocked her hips back and forth on his lap. After a moment, she released him.

"What," he panted. "What about Jane?" Tom's own hands wandered down Nancy's back to fold themselves around her ass.

"Poor little plain Jane," she said in a mocking tone, "never had a chance, sweetheart. Not from the moment you walked into my door and laid your eyes on these." Nancy pushed his head back into her breasts. Mike watched the other man's hands tighten around her behind, and heard a deep, guttural groan from the depths of her cleavage. "And you haven't even seen them in person yet!" She laughed. "It's okay, Tommy. A young man like you is simply built to need a body like mine, made to please an older woman. It's no wonder you were drawn to my tits like a moth to a flame."

Tom came up for air. "I can't do that to her! What about, what about your friends waiting outside?"

"You can and you will," Nancy said. "It's about time I took ownership of this big young cock you've been wasting on that silly little bitch." Her hand snaked in between them, and Mike heard a zipper. Tom's eyes rolled back in his head. "As for Vivien, she's got that boy out there so twisted around-" she stopped talking, and twisted her head around. Mike took a panicky half step away from the door. "Anyway," Nancy said after a moment. "Don't you worry about them. Worry about this."

"Oooh, Mrs. Perillo," Tom grunted as Mike backed out of the bathroom again, scandalized and feeling spun round. He knew Nanc- Mrs. Perillo was attractive, sure. He had eyes, after all. But this Tom guy must be a hell of a jerk to cheat on whoever Jane was; there shouldn't be a pair of tits on earth that could make a man fall out of love with his girl, no matter what Mrs. Perillo said.

As the door shut in front of him, he felt something warm press against his back.

"Did you find them?" Vivien whispered in his ear. Her hand slid easily back into his pocket.

"Vivien, stop." Mike said in a low voice. Her hand felt hot as her fingers quested deeper into his pants.

"I'm just ensuring you haven't done anything...untoward with my little gift," she said, mouth brushing against his ear. Her fingernails scratched against his thigh.

"No, I haven't," he said, turning around. Vivien's hand slipped back out of his pocket as he did, holding the blue thong he'd secreted there. He watched as his mother in law unrolled them, gave them a gentle sniff, then gave him an approving smile.

"Good boy," she said. "I do so hate to see my things abused." She draped them over Mike's left shoulder and turned on one heel. "Come along, Michael. Kendra insists on behaving like a child, and I refuse to put up with it any longer, so I'm afraid lunch is over." She stalked off without another word, and he couldn't help but watch the hypnotic sway of her behind.

This was his chance, he realized, to get rid of her underwear someplace nobody he knew would find it. Just stash it in a planter or behind something or even go back into the washroom and flush the damn things or maybe-

Behind him, he heard the washroom door opened. Blushing, he snatched the panties off his shoulder and stuffed them back in his pocket.

"Mike, is everything alright?" Nancy asked, smoothing down the hem of her skirt.

"Yeah, yeah sure." He couldn't quite bring himself to look her in the eye. "We're leaving, apparently. Ken and Vivien had a fight."

"Same old story," Nancy said, shaking her head. "They haven't gotten on since Vivien sto- I mean, since Kendra was a senior in high school. "

"What happened?" Mike asked, trying to ignore the disarray of her blouse.

"Oh well," Nancy hedged. "I'm sure Kendra could tell you more. Something about her prom date, is what I was told."

"Vivien didn't approve?"

Nancy just laughed. "Something like that, maybe. Come on, Mike. I'd like to finish my drink before your mother in law sweeps out of here." She hooked her arm in his, and escorted them both back to the table, where mother and daughter sat in stony silence.

The drive back to the office was, somehow, even more awkward than before.

* * *

Mike and Kendra sat on the couch in silence, watching TV. Vivien was upstairs in the mother-in-law suite, making a racket, moving something around. Kendra looked up at the ceiling and rolled her eyes.

"Honey," he began. "What am I supposed to do? What do you want me to do? I can't mediate here if I don't know what's going on."

"Mike," she said. "All I want, all I have ever wanted was somebody to take my side. Somebody I can trust to take my side over *hers*. Can you do that?"