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Butterscotch Hockham wearily came into the kitchen bearing a plastic bag containing two packs of Chinese takeaways. She had entered by the front door and passing down the passage to the kitchen she glanced into the lounge and saw Grey sitting morosely in an armchair, his arms folded bleakly over his chest and the television set not on — always a bad sign since this was the time when his favourite sitcom was on.
“Oh God, not him too,” she silently moaned.
It had been what she called “A stinker of a day.”
She worked as an assistant in the local public library, and to begin with it was a searingly hot day and the air-conditioning had chosen this time to break down. Then the chief librarian had been furious because some books had been replaced on the wrong shelves.
For this she had blamed Butterscotch, berating her furiously, until one of the other assistants had pointed out that it was she, the chief librarian, who had replaced those particular books. This information did nothing to improve the librarian’s mood.
At the best of times the chief librarian irritated Butterscotch because that was what she called her, “Butterscotch,” instead of the friendlier “Butter.”
Butterscotch often cursed her parents for giving her such an outlandish name, but as they explained; when she was little she looked good enough to eat. She vaguely remembered how one or both of her parents would take hold of her arm or leg and saying, “I’m going to eat you all up,” would pretend to gnaw on the limb saying, “Yum…yum…yum,” while she screamed with delight.
She was however grateful that their taste ran to Butterscotch and not pork pie or Cornish pasty.
The chief librarian hadn’t been the only source of frustration that day.
It sometimes happened that the public decided that they must all come to the library on one particular day and with them came mountains of books to be re-shelved. They also looked for and demanded books that were already out on loan and became annoyed and snappy when told they were out.
Given the sort of day she’d had she didn’t feel like coping with one of Grey’s bouts of glumness.
The one ray of light she saw lay in the Chinese takeaways. Normally she would have cooked the evening meal herself, but being late home she’d bought the Chinese which was one of Grey’s favourites.
Wearily she thrust the takeaway packs into the microwave and set it going, and then called out, “Five minutes Grey.”
As she got the cutlery out Grey slouched into the kitchen and slumped down at the table. Butter wondered what the trouble was this time, but felt that she didn’t have the energy to cope with Grey’s tribulations just then.
As she took the containers out of the microwave and put them on the table Butter made an effort and said brightly, “What sort of a day have you had, sweetheart?”
Without looking at her Grey mumbled something unintelligible and poked morosely at the mess of rice and indefinable additives with his fork.
“Yes, he’s in one of those moods,” Butter thought, and decided to let things ride in the hope Grey would recover.
As they ate on in silence the atmosphere did not improve, in fact the gloom deepened until Butter could stand it no longer.
“For heaven sake Grey, what’s the matter with you, you’re sitting there like someone who’s lost a thousand dollars and found ten cents, and you’ve hardly eaten a thing.”
Still not looking at her Grey said, “You might as well see,” and producing papers from somewhere about his anatomy he pushed them across the table to Butter.
She picked them up and saw that it was Grey’s latest history essay, “The Rise of the Puritans in the Reign of Elizabeth the First.” Clearly written in red was the letter D meaning “Fail.”
This was not the first time Butter had seen the letter D on one of Grey’s essays and she struggled to find something to say that would not be utterly negative. What she did eventually say hardly helped the situation.
“If only your father was still here he’d be able to help you.”
“Father!” Grey spat out the word.
* * * * * * * *
Professor Jeremy Hockham PhD headed the history department of a distant university. When Butter had first met him she had been a history student and he a young and aspiring history tutor. He had achieved some fame with his first book, “Puritans in the Tudor and Stuart Period.”
It had all the hallmarks of an outstanding academic work, namely, obscurity and near unreadability. Among historians of the Tudor and Stuart period this book was rather like the bible for the generality of people; most people have one but never get past the first couple of chapters in Genesis, but you just had to have one on your bookshelves.
It was this book that had helped Jeremy begin the upward claw to a professorship and then head of a department.
Butter met him when he became her history tutor and the attraction was almost immediate. The handsome, witty, dynamic black-haired blue eyed tutor, and the somewhat casino oyna innocent and still looking good enough to eat Butter, quickly became entangled with each other.
It was late one Friday afternoon that Butter had gone to Jeremy’s room at the university to receive back her latest essay and hear his critique of it. The essay was marked with a B+ and Jeremy’s criticism was mild, although prolonged, as he tried to keep the pretty student within his orbit.
As the interview drew to a close Jeremy said, “I’ve kept you late; to make up for it could I buy you dinner?
For Butter this had been rather like a dream come true; she would dine with her sexy tutor.
It had taken a couple more dinners before Jeremy suggested that she might like to come back to his flat for drinks. Butter’s dream became even truer as she yielded up her virginity that evening.
Looking at her naked body Jeremy had commented, “You look good enough to eat.” Butter wondered why people had such an inclination to feast on her. For his part Jeremy gorged himself on various parts of her body over the following weeks.
The dream took on a nightmarish tinge when she found herself to be pregnant, but revived when Jeremy declared he would marry her.
Grey was born and got his name because Butter was very fond of Earl Grey Tea.
For eighteen years Jeremy continued to consume intimate parts of Butter’s anatomy during their frenzied sexual unions, and as in her childhood she screamed with delight.
Sadly for Butter, and at the behest of Jeremy, she produced no further children. She would like to have had another child, especially a daughter whom she would have named Peppermint after another beverage she enjoyed.
Butter’s education had suffered an interruption in the early part of her marriage but as soon as it became feasible she returned to studies and ended up with a modest ordinary BA.
Unlike Jeremy she had no great desire to climb promotional ladders and had contented herself with taking work as library assistant. Beyond this she was very happy to be a wife and mother.
It was after their eighteen years of marriage that Jeremy gradually seemed to lose interest in Butter’s consumable parts. By then he had climbed to the rank of professor, and although in his middle years he was still handsome in an imposing way.
The reason for his decline in Butter devouring soon became evident in the shape of an eighteen year old student named Janice.
Whether this was something to do with a mid-life crisis or trying to make up for what he perceived to be his lost youth, is an unknown factor, but on raising the matter with Butter he was the soul of brevity ( which virtue it is a pity does not rub off on his now many historical works).
“I’ve fallen in love,” he announced, “and I’m leaving you, and it’s no use you crying and screaming.”
Having suspected for a while that it was something like this that was in the wind Butter neither cried nor screamed, and this can be disconcerting since it does not give you much idea of what the person is feeling inside.
Her response had the same virtue of brevity as Jeremy’s announcement.
“When will you be leaving?”
For all practical purposes it took about a week for Jeremy to leave wife and son. Thereafter, if he was devouring any female body, it was Janice’s.
Divorce followed and Jeremy married Janice and soon after he was appointed head of the history department at the distant university.
If Butter had shown little reaction to Jeremy’s departure, Grey made his feelings very clear, hence his somewhat explosive exclamation, “Father!”
* * * * * * * *
“Darling,” Butter said in response to Grey’s exclamation, “I’m only saying that your father is an expert on the very subject of your essay and it’s a pity he’s not here to help you.”
“Bastard!” Grey snarled.
“Grey, you know I don’t like swearing, and that’s a terrible thing to call your father.”
Grey calmed down a little, and looked up at Butter.
“I don’t understand you mum. You cooked, cleaned and scrubbed for him for nearly twenty years, and even brought in money, and he hikes of with that stupid ugly Janice.”
“I did more than cook, clean and scrub for him,” Butter thought, but replied patiently, Janice is not stupid or ugly and…”
“She’s skinny and I’ll bet she looks like the frame of a scarecrow when she’s stripped off, and she’s less than half his age.”
“There’s no need to be crude Grey, and we’ve talked about all this before…”
“I don’t know how you can be so cool about it mum. Dad leaves you and goes off with her and…”
“What’s the point of getting het up about it now; your father fell in love with her and I suppose she fell for him, it happens.”
“And he leaves you to struggle on trying to see me through my education and…”
“Darling, that’s an exaggeration, your father was quite generous with the divorce settlement; he gave me far more than he needed to and…”
“Guilty conscience,” Grey canlı casino snapped.
“Perhaps so, Grey, but don’t talk about struggling. We’ve got the house, the cottage, and he’s made an allowance for you that will last until you’re in paid employment. The only time I get upset about the situation is when you start abusing your father.”
“And when I fail an exam or essay.”
“Well all right Grey, it is disappointing.”
It was true; Butter did feel disappointed at Grey’s academic achievements, or lack thereof. Once he had shown himself to be a very bright boy and Butter could almost have put a date on the beginning of his decline.
It started after his father left. At first Grey had seemed to not comprehend that Jeremy had gone out of their lives, and kept on expecting him to return. In the end the departure had aroused in Grey something resembling hatred for his father, which hatred was exacerbated by Jeremy’s departure with his new young wife to the far university. This had meant that Grey had seen nothing of his father for almost three years.
Silence descended again. It had all been said before many times, and there seemed little point in trampling over the old ground once more.
Grey had eaten hardly any of his food and Butter had only consumed about half of hers.
There was nothing to wash up apart from a couple of forks. After the lousy day at the library and now this, Butter felt drained and was near to tears.
It was true that the struggle had not been financial; there had always been enough. The struggle, if that is what it was, had been the difficulty of coping with a son who was now approaching twenty one, and who harboured such bitterness towards his father.
This bitterness seemed to sour the whole of his life, including his academic studies, and Butter felt helpless to do anything about it. Grey’s final year was approaching; he had been lucky to survive at university thus far. Nothing had ever been openly said, but Grey would not have survived if his father had not been the distinguished professor of history, but his father’s influence could not and would not save him for much longer.
Butter knew this, and being the sort of woman she was, she took the responsibility on herself, although no one else would have blamed her.
For once it was all too much. She had kept so much locked away inside her; the hurts, the feelings of loss and the disappointments.
She rose and went to the kitchen sink as if to wash something up, but there was nothing. She did not want Grey to see that she was struggling not to give way to her feelings, but for once it didn’t work. With her back to him and leaning against the sink, the tears came.
She was about to run from the room when she felt arms encircle her waist.
“I’m sorry mum, really sorry. I always seem to hurt and disappoint you.”
“No darling,” she sobbed, “it’s just that I…”
“I love you, you know that don’t you?”
“Yes darling, I know, and I love you.”
She felt his warm lips pressed against the back of her neck. It had been a long time since that had happened to her and it felt good.
“You see mum, what I don’t understand is why dad left a beautiful woman like you and went off with skinny Janice.”
“I told you Grey, it happens, and I’m not beautiful.”
“You are beautiful, and if I was married to a woman like you I’d never leave you.”
Butter experienced those words as a mixture of pleasure and pain. Ever since Jeremy had announced he was leaving her she had come to doubt herself — her female attractiveness; yet here was her son telling her she was beautiful. Why had Jeremy not seen her as such?
“You know mum,” Grey continued, “there are times when could eat you.”
There it was again, this apparent desire of people to cannibalize her.
Grey pulled her close to him. Was it her imagination, or could she feel a hard lump pressing against her buttocks. She remembered that from her years with Jeremy, and it always presaged a Butter eating and penetration.
It was nice, and she instinctively pushed back against Grey.
He said again, “You’re beautiful mother, and I love you so much.”
This time she accepted his assertion that she was beautiful, saying, “As long as you think so darling.”
She felt his arms leave her waist and the next moment hands enveloped her breasts. Her head was now lying back on his shoulder and she could feel him trembling slightly. She was trembling herself and her clitoris was tingling.
“You have lovely breasts,” Grey whispered.
How often Jeremy had said those words as he bent over her, ready to take one of her nipples into his mouth and then gradually consume as much of the breast as he could. “Wonderful times,” she thought, and now there was another man she loved dearly saying those words.
The shock hit her like a bucket of ice water in the face; “Dear God, what are we doing…what am I doing…? My son…my son is stimulating me and I’m responding.” Her clitoris was throbbing kaçak casino almost painfully now, the crotch of her panties was wet and her nipples had grown rigid.
In a matter of moments her body had readied itself for the act of physical love. She had to end this sensual embrace. If he turned her and kissed her she knew she would be lost.
Always quick to be sexually aroused she knew that this was no boy whose hands enfolded her breasts, it was a young man…a potent young man…her son, yes…but now a man. She could feel his palpable desire for her and her responding craving for him. It had been so long….so long.
“No…no…it must stop,” beat in her head, but how? There could be no claim to innocence now; no protest, “I didn’t know what was going on.” But Butter realized that to suddenly repel Grey might break the delicate web of the love that seemed to have embraced them, a love on the edge of physical fulfillment.
Trying to make it seem that nothing out of the ordinary was happening, she said in a hoarse voice, “We need to have a talk about things, darling, let’s sit down.”
She felt a sudden tension in Grey’s body as if he too knew they had drawn too close to the edge. His hands dropped away from her breasts and they separated, both of them breathing heavily.
They sat at the table, Grey looking at Butter.
For a few moments Butter tried to think of some topic that might defuse the situation — that might calm them down without creating embarrassment for either of them.
With artificial brightness she said, “Darling, do you realize we haven’t had a holiday since…” she almost said “since your father left us,” but this might take the conversation down an undesirable track, so she said, “for nearly three years?”
“I think it might be what we both need, a break away from things for a while.”
“Can we afford it?”
“Well it depends…”
“How much we’d have to pay for accommodation.”
Butter hesitated for a moment; she wanted to make a suggestion that might touch on a raw nerve.
“We do have the cottage.”
She looked at Grey anxiously. The cottage had been their vacation and frequent weekend lair since Grey had been three years of age. They’d had many happy times there, but the place would carry poignant memories of Jeremy simply because of those happy times. Perhaps that was why they had not gone there since Jeremy had left them.
Grey made no immediate response to her suggestion so she went on, “We’ve been renting it out as a holiday shack and I’ve used the money to have it regularly cleaned, it’s a pity not to use it ourselves.”
Expecting a protest from Grey followed by an outright refusal to go to the cottage, she was pleasantly surprised when she saw a strange gleam come into his eyes, a faint smile hover over his lips, and he said softly, “Yes, that’s a very good idea.”
“You…you really think so, you’re not just agreeing to be nice to me?”
His smile broadened; “No…no, I think it’s a very good idea; all that sea air; really being away from everybody and everything. Isn’t that what people do on their honeymoon?”
“Well your father and I went to a hotel for our honeymoon, but I suppose if we’d had the cottage we might have…”
“I think that people should be alone on their honeymoon, you know, so they can really get to know each other without any distractions.”
“Perhaps you’re right darling, but the question is, when can we go?”
“Well,” Grey replied thoughtfully, “I suppose I’d better hang in at the university until the next vac; much good it’ll do me; how about you?”
The university vac is when, in about four week’s time?”
“I’m due for a lot of leave, what shall we do, make it a whole fortnight.”
Butter was trying to interpret the look he was giving her as he said, “Yes, I think the whole fortnight; no point is rushing things is there?”
“No of course not,” Butter replied, feeling as if she’d won a small victory. Grey had cheered up and they seemed to have passed that dangerous corner when for a few moments they had almost done the impossible deed.
“Who knows,” she thought, “going to the cottage might sweep away those negative thoughts he has about his father, and he’ll get back on track with his studies.”
“Yes,” she thought, “a tentative suggestion has turned out very well.”
* * * * * * * *
Butter had resolved that those few moments when, like two lovers, they had almost given full expression to their love, would be driven from her mind, but over the following weeks the memory would not go away.
There had been something about his strong young body pressed against hers, his hands on her breasts, and his penis as she had pushed her buttocks against it.
“Should I treasure that moment?” she wondered. “Surely there could be no harm in a mother and son having warm feelings for each other, and it wasn’t as if anything really happened.”
She contented herself with that thought and decided that it had been an aberration in their relationship. They had both been unhappy and for a few moments were tempted to seek the consolation that a loving sexual act can give.
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