Mom on Loveseat at late-night part 1

The mid-summer heatwave enveloped the city for eight days straight. It drove everyone a little crazy. Evening brought some relief, but even as night fell the heat lingered, hours past sunset. With heat so constant and so intense, everything loosened up: clothes, morals, and passions that otherwise would have stayed buried deep.

Mamey Roseey had long since tired of the heat. It wore her down, a little more each day. She poured herself a glass of chilled white wine and walked with it to the living room. It was 10 p.m. in the Ryerson house, and the family's favorite T.V. show was about to begin.

Her husband, Mathew Carron, already lay comfortably grooved into his favorite chair, not far from the large-screen television. He had taken his seat to watch T.V. two hours earlier, and he hadn't moved the whole time except to grab beers from the kitchen. He was nursing his fifth can. His day at work had been long and stressful, and the beers had done a lot to dull the edges off his frayed temper.

Roseey saw her 20-year-old son, Kameron, sit on the love seat to the left of and behind Mathew Carron's chair. Kameron, a sophomore in college, lived away from his parents during the school year, but he had chosen to stay in in his old room for the summer, and he worked long hours for a local construction firm. Kameron kicked his shoes off and put his feet up on the low table in front of the love seat.

Roseey noticed how much the living room had cooled. Mathew Carron had set the thermostat to a low temperature, and the air conditioner was blasting cold air into the house, giving everyone welcome relief from the summer heat. Earlier in the day, mindful of the scorching day-time temperature, Roseey had put on a light, cotton, sleeveless sundress with buttons down the front. Now, at 10 p.m., it was cooler, even a little chilly, and goosebumps popped up on Roseey's exposed legs and arms.

As she swung around the love seat to sit down, Roseey noticed both Kameron and Mathew Carron in her line of sight. Kameron looked a lot like his dad, with short, blond hair and a well-defined, strong-featured face. He was taller than his father, though, and while his father had gone soft in middle-age, Kameron kept his body fit and free of fat through steady exercise and the daily rigors of his job.

Roseey's brow furrowed at the sight of her husband's figure. She wished he took better care of himself. Roseey, unlike Mathew Carron, took excellent care of herself. Although she was nearing 40, Roseey

retained the fresh-scrubbed, girl-next-door looks of her youth. The short dress, snug and hitting mid-thigh, did little to conceal Roseey's voluptuous curves. Long, light-brown hair cascaded over her bare neck and shoulders.

She looked critically with pale blue eyes at the placement of her son's feet.

"Kameron, take your feet off the table," she said.

Kameron removed his feet from the table with the slowness and reluctance of a teen.

"Sorry, mom," he said.

Roseey was about to sit down at the other end of the love seat when Mathew Carron spoke.

"Hey, Roseey," Mathew Carron said, his voice slurring just a trace from the beer, "You might not want to sit there. I spilled a beer on that end of the love seat. I tried to clean it up with a wet towel but it's all wet on that end."

"Oh!" said Roseey. She leaned over and sniffed the seat cushion. It didn't smell like beer, so Mathew Carron must have succeeded at wiping it up. But Mathew Carron was right; it was very wet. She thought about turning the seat cushion over but thought it better to leave it up to dry.

Roseey took pride in taking care of things. She liked things to be just so. It wasn't easy to keep things that way with a job of her own to manage and a husband who grew lazier, it seemed, with every day. Thank goodness that her son Kameron, though like a teen boy in many of his habits, often volunteered to help with chores around the house.

"Here, mom," Kameron said, patting his hand on the love seat on his left side. "There's some room here. I'll move over so you can sit next to me." Kameron pressed his legs as far as he could against the right side of the little sofa.

Roseey squeezed next to Kameron on his half of the love seat. She put a pillow on the other cushion to keep her dress from contacting the wet part of the little sofa. Kameron wore shorts, and when Roseey sat down the warmth of his leg surprised her. So did its hardness; his thigh muscle pressed against her like steel.

Kameron felt surprise and pleasure at the cool, soft skin of his mom's leg against his own.

The T.V. show, called "Angel City Detective," began. It had premiered on a cable channel a year ago and had become their favorite. The series was about an attractive, young, female detective fighting crime in the dark underbelly of modern-day Los Angeles. Her name was Angel, and the irony of her name was that despite her by-the-book police methods, along with her innocent looks and understated beauty, she had a dark, wild, sexual side that she struggled to keep secret from her work colleagues. Its deft combination of sex, violence, and smart writing -- not to mention, the sex appeal of the actress that played Angel -- had made it a big hit. The Ryersons sat down to watch it every week.

Roseey glanced at Mathew Carron again, annoyed. She wished he would control his drinking better. Roseey didn't mind Mathew Carron having a couple of drinks to relax when he came home. But lately his routine had involved more than a couple of drinks, and by the time he turned the T.V. off he often was drunk. Roseey's love life suffered as a result of Mathew Carron's drinking habit. Lately, it seemed like he loved his six-pack more than his wife. Mathew Carron's inattentiveness had left her feeling perpetually frustrated and horny.

The relentless heat of the last Eight days had just made it worse.

While Roseey was annoyed at Mathew Carron, Kameron was thinking about how his mom's leg felt pressed against him. It felt surprisingly good, which was kind of weird, Kameron thought, because it was just his mom. Kameron, too, was agitated and antsy. He hadn't had sex once since coming back home from college for the summer. His summer job kept him working long hours and left him tired at the end of the day, and he hadn't had time to date. So far, the only sexual relief he'd gotten all summer had been through jerking off. And he'd been too tired even to do that for the last five days. Sitting on the sofa, he was hot and agitated, and he thought his balls were going to burst.

As the opening credits for the show rolled, Roseey realized suddenly that the blast of air conditioning left her uncomfortably cold.

"Mathew Carron," she said. "It's getting a little chilly. Do you think you could turn off the air conditioner?"

"Gee, baby," said Mathew Carron. "The temperature feels fine to me. I think it's because you're dressed so skimpy. Here."

Mathew Carron grabbed a colorful, crocheted throw blanket hanging over the back of his chair, and, hardly looking up from the T.V. screen, he tossed it to Roseey and Kameron. Roseey scooped it up and spread it over her bare legs and brought it up to her chest.

Kameron shook his head at his dad's rudeness.

"I'll do it, mom," he said as he got up to turn off the air conditioner.

She left a space for him and half a minute later he was back in the same spot on the love seat.

"Would you like the blanket, too?" she asked.

Kameron wasn't really cold, but the room was cool and the idea of sharing the blanket with mom sounded cozy.

"Sure," he said.

All three of them sat, watching the show.

The lead character, Angel, arrived at her apartment after a tough day investigating a murder. She poured herself some bourbon on the rocks.

Something about Angel looked familiar to Kameron.

"You know, mom," he said. "She kind of looks like you. Don't you think so, dad?"

Mathew Carron grunted, barely registering Kameron's question through the fog of his growing drunkenness.

"Maybe the way your mom was ten years ago, I guess," he said. "I don't know."

His attention didn't stray from the T.V. screen. Obviously, he didn't want to be interrupted.

Kameron leaned over to his mother's ear.

"I don't think dad's paying attention to what he's saying," he whispered to her so his dad wouldn't hear. He gestured to the T.V. screen. "She does kind of look like you. But I think you look better than she does."