Sarah slammed the front door behind her, kicking off her heels in the hallway. The date had been a disaster. Another guy more interested in his phone than in her. At thirty-eight, she was tired of the games; her body ached for real attention. The house was quiet, save for the faint glow of light spilling from under Ronnie's bedroom door. Her sixteen-year-old son was probably up late again, glued to his computer. Curiosity...

The house was quiet when Ronnie came home from school. His mother, Sarah, had left a note on the kitchen table: “Went to the store. Be back soon.” He sighed, disappointed. He’d been hoping to catch her changing before she went out. For months now, he’d been obsessed with seeing his mother naked, fantasizing about her curves and the way she moved. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t help himself. He often wore her satin...