There was a name tag at eye level on the door. It read CONSTANCE TALBOT, and just beneath it was a button. Stacy pushed the button and listened as the bell rang inside the apartment. There was no answer. That was impossible. She'd dialed the number from half a dozen phones since parking her car, and each time Mom's line had been busy. Someone must be in there.
Stacy fumbled in her purse for the key. She hadn't used it in so long she was afraid it might not be there, but it was, thank God. She tried the bell once more, then unlocked the door and went inside. "Mom!" she said.
Connie Talbot was sitting on the couch in a pink robe, an ashtray full of cigarette butts on the coffee table in front of her. She was just stubbing out still another cigarette, and she didn't even look up when Stacy spoke. Instead she knocked a fresh Newport out of the package, stuck it in her mouth, and lit it. Smoke drifted into the air around her head in a heavy gray cloud.
Beside her on the couch lay the phone receiver, half-buried between two cushions. There was a tabloid-size newspaper on the floor next to her feet, and Stacy thought that was strange, for her mother had always called the Daily News a Neanderthal publication.
"Mom," she said again, stepping closer.
Connie looked up, her eyes red and swollen. "Stacy." Her voice was weak, almost inaudible even at such close range.
Stacy dropped to her knees and leaned across the coffee table to take her mother's shaking hand. As she did, she noticed that the tabloid on the floor wasn't the Daily News at all. It was a weekly sex paper called Twat, that labeled itself the "Snatchiest Rag in New York" and seemed well on the way to overtaking Screw in the porno paper sweepstakes.
"What's wrong?" Stacy asked. "You've been crying. Why is the phone off the hook? Why are you sitting here chain-smoking? Mother, say something, for the love of Christ!"
"Why are you here?" Connie asked suddenly, bitterly. "Have you come to put in your two cents' worth? Stacy, I can't take any more! I'm finished. I just want to go to bed and never get up again."
"My God," said Stacy. "What's happened to you?"
Connie took two or three quick puffs and ground out her cigarette. "This is the most horrid day of my life, Stacy. I want to be alone. Please."
"Nonsense!" Stacy replied firmly. "Mother – I don't know where to begin – this morning – well, actually it was a little past noon. A friend and I went to a movie…"
Connie closed her eyes, hand scrambling on the table in search of her cigarettes. Stacy grabbed the hand, and she squeezed it reassuringly. "Listen," she went on. "I know it was you, Mom. I knew it as soon as I heard your voice. But why? How? When? God, I'm still…"
"Shocked? Disgusted? Sickened? Pick one!" Connie blurted. She leaned back, not so attractive now. Her face looked old, worn, drawn, and Stacy's heart twisted in sympathy. "That's what your brother told me," Connie added. "He called me this afternoon. All the way from Albany. To tell me how much I'd shamed him. That I was nothing but a slut. He even said I was no better than a streetwalker. A whore. He called me a whore."
"Oh!" Stacy whispered, almost ready to cry. "Did he see [missing text]?" Connie shook her head. "He read about me. In this." She kicked out beneath the table and the newspaper fluttered across the floor to Stacy. The girl released her mother's hand and picked it up. The front cover was adorned with a grainy but recognizable blowup from the movie. Her mother, naked, face gripped by sexual longing, just in the act of letting down her hair. Stiff nipples, a bush that seemed to quiver even in the poorly reproduced black-and-white illustration. From the beginning of the scene, Stacy remembered.
"There's more inside," Connie said flatly. "A review of the movie. Two pages. Maybe a thousand words of copy, plus half a dozen stills. Almost all of it's about me. All the pictures are of me. You can see my face in every one of them. The editor was quite taken with me. Oh, he hated the picture but he gave it a rating of three and a half erections, which is pretty good, so I'm told. And to make it perfect, Stacy, he managed to find out my name, and he printed that along with the pictures. Isn't that darling?" Her voice was brittle with rage and her hands trembled. "God, when I saw it, I thought I was going to be sick! And then Gerry called. The things he said! Stacy, he hates me! That's what he told me. Do you hate me, too?"
Connie was on the verge of tears and so was Stacy. "Of course not," she said firmly. "I only wanted to know."
Stacy took her mother into the bedroom, noting as she turned on the light that her mother's old bed was gone. In its place stood a round waterbed, a big one, decorated with pink sheets and a fake-fur spread. "Mmm," she said admiringly. It reminded her of a certain motel on the outskirts, of Boston…
"Have you been drinking, Mom?"
Connie shook her head.
"Okay, then take this." Stacy took a tranquilizer from her purse and gave it to Connie, who swallowed it mechanically. "Now, let's get you into a warm nightie and under the covers."
Connie didn't resist as Stacy undid the robe and tossed it aside. Underneath she was wearing bra and panties, both cute and pastel pink. They were skimpy underthings, not at all the sort Stacy associated with mothers, particularly her own. The panties were hip-hugging bikinis, cut low on top and high at the bottom, and they seemed glued to her mother's trim hips, allowing the unmistakable bulge of her pubes to stand out. And the bra, a one-piece step-in, made no effort to prevent show-through of rather large brown nipples, which were standing at halfhearted erection.
Stacy left her mother and went to get a nightie from the dresser. She picked a sensible cotton one, winter-weight, and brought it back. "Come on," she said, "don't you feel better now that you've taken your pill?"
Connie did seem more relaxed. She was almost smiling. "I'm glad you're not angry," she told her daughter. "If you'd been angry I don't know what I'd be doing now."
"Who's angry?" Stacy demanded. "C'mon, lift your arms while I help you out of your bra. Lord, I don't know why you bother with them!" It was true. Her mother's breasts were as high and firm as a young girl's. They were warm, too, as Stacy couldn't help noticing when the heel of her hand brushed against one of them. She struggled to pull away the bra cups, realizing as she did so that if those breasts weren't her mother's she could be quite attracted to them.
It was a strange feeling. Stacy halted, the bra in her hands, and she crooked her head. Sometimes girls seemed so much sexier than guys. She'd made it with both sexes, and she'd never been able to decide which she preferred. Guys had their advantages – they were big and hard and muscular, and they enjoyed sweeping a girl off her feet and into the sack for some fast, furious balling, and Stacy didn't mind that when she was in the mood.
But it was different with girls. They were soft and pink and warm, tantalizing invitation written on their bare bodies. The soft curves, the tingling flesh with its smooth rounded contours. The tactile sensation of rubbing her lips back and forth across a stiffening nipple, of plying a dainty navel with a rotating fingertip, of blowing soft breath into a delicately parted set of cuntal gates and feeling the pussy aroma waft back out to her nostrils – My God, she told herself, she was her mother!
Connie stretched and yawned, her breasts shaking ever so slightly. Stacy watched the wobbling nipples, her tongue unconsciously flicking at her lips, and it didn't help when she closed her eyes because her mind was engaged in replaying a particular sequence from the movie Stacy and Don had seen that afternoon.
Stacy tried to remember how she'd thought of her mother before seeing her on an X-rated screen today. What had been the image in her head? God, she couldn't remember! She wished they'd been closer, that they'd spent more time together in the past few years. Now it was like meeting a stranger, a half-naked stranger at that, and Stacy felt bewildered.
"You'd better put on your nightie," she said, offering it. The pill was working. Connie's face had relaxed considerably and her smile was there for real now. She seemed at ease as she reached for the offered nightgown, and she dropped it lazily on the bed behind her.
Connie put her hands on the low-riding waistband of her panties and pulled them down to her knees. She raised one leg out of them, then the other, and idly hung the panties on the doorknob of a closet beside the bed. They dangled there as she turned to pick up her nightie once more. "Oh, I feel a lot better now," she sighed. "What was that pill you gave me?"
"Just a 'lude," Stacy mumbled. She wished her mother would hurry up and get her nightie on. "Oh. Goddamnit!" she exploded, taking a giant step.
She buried her face in the nape of her mother's neck, kissing and licking the warm clean flesh. "Stacy!" her mother said in a startled voice, her body stiffening against Stacy's, but Connie didn't fight.
Stacy looked up. "Oh, Mother," she said. "I'm sorry, I but I can't help myself."
The nightie fell from Connie's fingers and spread itself on the floor at her feet. Stacy threw one arm around her mother's body and hugged her closely, still neck-kissing. Her other hand made a beeline for Connie's nearest breast.
It was everything she had known it would be, and more. Stacy cupped it fiercely, pressing until she felt the nipple spring up hard and hot against her palm. With her fingertips she stroked the firm but yielding flesh of her mother's tit, and with each of those strokes the nipple seemed to become stiffer. She heard a wistful sigh seep from Connie's lips, a sigh that drew her like a beacon. Stacy raised her head and planted her lips upon her mother's.
She kissed until she couldn't breathe, but when her lips smacked away they didn't go far. Stacy could feel Connie's breath tickling her face, and she was looking directly into the troubled brown eyes that surveyed her in wonder.
"I'm sorry, Mom," she said. "But when I saw you in that movie today – it made me so hot. You were fantastic. The way you moved, the way you spoke, your fingers, your toes curling – I love you, and I'm proud of you, and I want to make it with you. Here. Now. Right now. Please!"
"Oh," Connie sighed. "I've never – I couldn't…"
"You can," Stacy replied. "You really can!"
She eased Connie onto the bed, stretched her mother out full length, and crouched beside her. Connie lay on her back, looking up, her hands idle at her sides. "Stacy…"
"Mom, I'm no virgin either. I know what I'm doing."
Stacy bent her head down and anointed her mother's nipples with tiny beads of saliva. The nipples were already warm and rubbery, one of them was very stiff, and both of them responded excitingly. Stacy opened her mouth a tiny bit further as she moistened a pap, and it slipped between her lips. She trapped it there, sucking until it bloomed against the tip of her tongue. When she felt it rise harder, hotter, she released it and moved to its twin sister.
When Stacy had sucked and licked and tongued to her satisfaction, she lifted herself, smiled, and covered the breasts with her hands, squeezing until she heard her mother moan.
Part of it was the 'lude, Stacy assumed. Some people used them as aphrodisiacs, though for her own part she found them most useful as tranquilizers. Maybe they were having a different kind of effect on her mother. But a big part of it was that her mother was harried and tense and simply needed some TLC. And who else was around to give it to her?
Such a lovely, touchable body, Stacy thought as she touched it. She stroked with her fingertips from the rib cage to the fringes of Connie's pubic hair, applying a tender massage. Beneath the skin she could feel blood pulsing in veins, nerve ends twittering – or was it only her own blood coursing, her own nerves dancing in excitement? Stacy lowered her head once more and kissed her mother's tummy, just above the navel. It was a damp, open-lipped kiss, and her tongue darted out as she gave it. Stacy licked a ring round her mother's navel before inserting her tongue for a provocative simulation of the sex act.
"Oh!" Connie cried, her voice quite surprised by not at all indignant.
Stacy played a moment longer and then let her tongue glide south across Connie's groin, into the neatly trimmed pubic curls that adorned her mother's cunt. A nice cunt it was too, puffing like a bun between Connie's upper thighs, downed with hair and slit neatly down the middle. Stacy eyed it hungrily. The gash was a long one, with pinkish labia just visible in the crack. It had a look of cleanliness, too, and the only smell that emanated from it was one of natural femininity. It wasn't a fully aroused femininity. Yet, Stacy told herself.
She'd seen her mother naked, or nearly naked, before, of course, but she'd never appreciated what a knockout body her mother had until today in the movie house. And seeing it now was much more exciting than watching it on screen.
Stacy felt something touch the leg of her jeans. It was Connie's hand. Her jeans! She looked at herself. She was still fully dressed!
Stacy bounded to the floor. She pulled off her sweater, then wiggled out of her tight blue jeans. Undressing was a snap when you didn't fuck around with underthings, she thought smugly, diving once more onto the bed, and thrusting her head between her mother's legs. Her tongue shot out and she began to lick the slit that lurked so invitingly between the fluffy curls. Her tongue grazed the labial hinges, poked questingly at them, and dived into Connie's vaginal tract. The flesh within was soft, but it was dry to the touch of Stacy's tongue. That couldn't be tolerated!
The girl worked up a mouthful of spit and dribbled it out a little at a time, smoothing it into her mother's pussy. Connie twitched and twisted as her daughter's tongue grew mote impatient in its working, and she sighed aloud when Stacy located the red clitoral bud. She reached out with her hands, grabbing Stacy's bare leg where it stretched near her head, and the girl scooted closer.
As Stacy began to lick her way around her mother's clit she could taste the beginnings of a honeyed, syrupy wetness. It was sweet and tangy on her tongue and she lapped at it for a moment, temporarily abandoning Connie's sex trigger. Her tongue stole playfully up the canal in search of more, twisting, like a snake as it went, and Connie twisted too, as if she were trying to lift her ass from the bed and jam it into Stacy's face.
The bed swayed and rocked beneath them like the deck of a boat on choppy waters, and Stacy could nearly feel the warm sun blazoning down upon them where they lay. Stacy kissed her mother's cunt, then raised her head to call down a message. "Put your hand on me," she suggested. "Yes! Right there! Now rub me and squeeze me, just the way you'd do it to yourself. Oh, niiicccceeee!!"
Mom had the rhythm Stacy was searching for and as that soft small hand began to play her cunny like a piano Stacy returned to her oral loving. She spread her mother's gash and slurped her way up it, down it, all around. The clit was surprisingly large, but some of that was due to the stimulation it had already received. The nubbin was standing up proud and big like a pussy hard-on, and Stacy worked it into her lips for just a little more suckling. As she worried it with her mouth she could taste the ever-increasing flow of juices from the hole, and she put her finger into the gap, soaking it in Connie's fluid. From time to time she would release the trigger and suck her finger instead.
If Stacy had any doubts about her mother's honesty of response, they were stifled when she felt the kisses that began to fall upon the smooth silky flesh of her upper thighs. She didn't expect Connie to repay her in kind – not now, anyway. But the leg kissing, combined with the steady even squeezes on Stacy's cunt were enough to satisfy the girl. She scooted closer, so that her mother would not have to stretch if she wished to lip any flesh, and she threw her head back into Connie's gash.
Stacy used everything she had on her mother. Her fingers pried the delicate cuntal flanges and sometimes wiggled inside for a bit of play, and her mouth was constantly in action. She used her tongue in and around the slice, licking from the outside in and back again, with not-so-gentle reminders to her mother's clit from time to time. The cunt grew damper, more fragrant, as she ate it, and Stacy could almost smell the cum that was building deep inside her mother's body. She wanted to feel that cum throbbing against her sucking mouth, to use her tongue like a scoop as the juices began to flow, to have the red clit shivering and pulsating where her teeth nudged it back and forth – she wanted to hear her mother scream in joy – and most of all she wanted to burst with her own climax at the same moment, so that she and Connie could share the most erotically satisfying sensations a woman could ever know.
She didn't get it. Not exactly. Stacy worked furiously for her satisfaction, humping her puss into her mother's clutching fist, and she let her body swing and sway with the waterbed's tidal flow. She kept sucking and licking and fingering as she did it, stabbing fingers deeply into her mother to punctuate the intensity of her assault, and she could feel the flesh she loved and laved grow tingly with the oncoming explosion.
Connie's pussy contracted ecstatically with Stacy's finger buried to the hilt and Stacy's lips fastened to the elongated clitoris, and then Stacy felt the blast-off she had engineered. Warm, dripping juices bathed her face. She drank them greedily, stirring the pot with her tongue to produce more. Woman's cum was sweet and watery, unlike the thicker, stronger-tasting male juice, and as she slurped Stacy told herself that she had never sampled a sweeter hole than this, her mother's.
She was all too aware that she hadn't cum herself, particularly when Connie's cry of abandon fluttered into the air. Stacy clamped her thighs tightly upon the hand that had ceased suddenly to fondle her now – Connie was too swept up in her own delight to have much thought for her daughter's release – but Stacy no longer needed active caresses. If she squeezed her legs just so, twisting them to make that fisted hand press firmly upon her own swollen mound – She squeezed, and the hand pressed, and there was a twinge of response from Stacy's hole.
Stacy threw one leg out and over, slinging caution into the wind of her passion. She shifted her body, slamming her groin down upon Connie's face. Her mother was still moaning and gurgling in orgasmic pleasure but the sounds were muffled at once by the pressure of Stacy's muff. Connie didn't stop crying out, however. The difference – and such a difference! – was that now her lips parted and trembled directly upon the mouth of Stacy's feminine organ, and the vibrating moans were just what the love doctor had ordered.
Stacy endured thirty seconds of her mother's stifled outbursts before she surrendered herself. Her cunt heaved and oozed and she didn't care if she smothered Connie with it. She clamped it down and let her mother feel the rippling twitters of a pussy in heat. Her mother's clit must have been raw by then, thanks to Stacy's aggressive mouth-loving, but the girl found the energy to continue the process, and then she felt her mother's tongue strike inquisitively at her own labial folds. It was too good and too much. Stacy's second orgasm struck her like a dynamite blast.
"Do you mind if I call you Connie? It sounds silly to call you 'Mom' when I'm lying here with my finger inside you."
"And vice versa," Connie pointed out, wiggling her finger – partly for emphasis, partly for the pleasure of hearing Stacy's delighted, giggly squeal. "Of course I don't mind."
"Well," said the girl, "I hope you feel better now."
"Much better," Connie admitted, "but if anyone had predicted this to me – even as late as this morning – I'd have called him crazy. Stacy, I didn't know you knew about this sort of thing. Oh, I was pretty sure you weren't an innocent little girl any longer. You're a beautiful young woman, and beautiful young women are never innocent. But – this too?"
"This especially," Stacy grinned. "I haven't been an innocent little girl since I fourteen. Remember Alfred – the one with the bad complexion and the guitar? We broke each other in one day when you were out. Right on my little bed." She giggled as her mother shook her head in wonderment. "And as for the rest of it I found out about girls a couple of years later. I'll bet you didn't know, either, that when Suzie used to come over and spend the night with me – when I was going to St. Catherine's, remember? Anyway, we used to turn the record player up to drown the noises and get it on like crazy. Didn't you ever notice how we seemed to eat a lot of bananas when she was here?"
Connie crooked her head and thought. "I do seem to…"
"Well!" Stacy exulted. "What we'd do, one of us would put a banana in, peeled of course, all the way up. And I mean all the way! And the other would kneel between her legs and use just her teeth to get the banana out. Pull it half an inch, nibble on the end – you wouldn't believe how girl-juice flavors a banana! – and smack, smack till it was time to change places. God, I haven't even thought about that in years! Do you have any bananas in the fridge? I think I'd like to try it right now."
"Not a one," Connie confessed. "They're getting too expensive. Besides, I don't see how a banana could be any better than your finger, darling." She readied down to touch Stacy's hand. "You're not a lesbian, are you? Aren't you what they call bisexual?"
"Omnisexual is a better word," Stacy smirked. "I'd make it with a gorilla if it turned me on. But I'd rather make it with you. Again."
"Oh, not yet," Connie demurred. "Let me recover from the last time. But tell me, dear…"
"No," said Stacy, "you tell me. How in the world did you ever get into making a dirty movie? That's what amazes me. I mean, sure, you lost your job in the fall, but I thought you had a wad in the bank. Did you need the money, or what?"
Connie smiled. "No, it wasn't the money. It was all an accident, so to speak. It's a long story, hon."
"Tell me," Stacy insisted. "I mean, I'd like to know how my mother ended up X-rated. Please?"
"All right," Connie sighed. "It all started…"