Mom actually agreed to switch their hotel to the Mandarin Oriental, the hotel Jenna had recommended back in Scotland, which now seemed like a lifetime ago. They took a single room with a king-sized bed. It had a small sitting area, which was quite nice, and which Pete could easily imagine reading in. If they were going to be reading.

Mom had left a message for Katja’s “friend” on the train ride from Amsterdam, and they were still unpacking when the man called back. Pete didn’t hear the whole conversation, but the result was an agreement to meet for drinks at a café near the Louvre.

“Which gives us time this afternoon to visit it!” Mom exclaimed.

Pete just chuckled.

They arrived at the Louvre with about two hours before their meeting. Fortunately, the line to get in was short, but Mom already wanted to come back the following day. Pete laughed at her eagerness.

Pete’s nerves grew as they strolled to the café. Philippe and Sandrine Desjardins. He knew nothing about them but their names. Some internet searches hadn’t turned up anything meaningful, but these days, internet searches were all ads anyway. He missed the days when Google was actually useful.

They café had a few tables outside near the street, but they were empty. Pete opened the door for Mom. She spoke briefly to the host, who then led them through the cafe to a private little courtyard in the back. As they entered, a couple at a table in the corner rose to their feet. The host pointed Pete and mom their way.

The couple were both clearly in their fifties, but also fit and attractive. The man had thick gray hair, impeccably coiffed. He wore a dark sports coat and a forest green button down shirt that would’ve been at home in either a boardroom or a nightclub. The woman, slim with dark chestnut hair, was more petite next to her partner. Her dress, though, hugged her figure while being elegant enough for a high tea.

“Pete and Diane, I presume?” the man said. When Mom nodded, he continued, “It is good to meet you. I am Philippe and this is my wife Sandrine. Please, join us.”

As they sat, the waiter appeared with menus. Philippe said a few words in French, before looking at Pete and Mom.

“Kir Royale?” he asked in English. A quick glance revealed that was what he and Sandrine had ordered.

“Please.” Mom said.

Phillipe said a few more words in French to the waiter, who then departed.

“So,” he said next. “We understand you were in Amsterdam. How did you find the city?”

“Oh, we enjoyed it,” Mom replied. “It’s quite beautiful.”

“It is. We enjoy the Jordaan neighborhood.”

“We only visited that briefly,” Mom said. “Though it was pretty.”

“It was,” Pete added.

They talked about being tourists in Amsterdam until well after the Kir Royales arrived. Phillipe and Sandrine visited the city a couple of times a year and knew many out-of-the-way shops and restaurants. He did most of the talking, but drew her out with questions from time to time. The conversation wandered through visits to London and stories about life in the States. Phillipe told some amusing stories that got to Mom to laugh and everyone was very relaxed by the time they’d finished their second round of drinks.

“So…,” Phillipe said, “I spoke with Katja after receiving your call. Did you enjoy your time with her and her sister?”

“Very much,” Mom said with a warm smile. “It was one of the best nights of my life.”

Pete nodded agreement.

“Delightful. We have enjoyed our time with them as well.”

“And you also…?” Mom prompted.

Phillipe smiled. “Our children, Theo and Clara, could not be here tonight, but they often join us.”

“Ah. And we could…?”

“There is a club,” Phillipe said, “that we like to attend, all four of us. It’s a… well, I shall be direct. A swinger’s club. We could meet you there tomorrow night and, if things continue to go well, perhaps adjourn to a back room?”

Mom smiled. “That sounds delightful.” She turned to Pete and raised an eyebrow in silent question.

He grinned. “We’ll see you there.”

***

“We’re really going to do this,” Mom muttered as they entered their hotel room.

“It looks like it,” Pete replied.

“If you’d told me two weeks ago…” She rolled her eyes but gave him a warm smile.

He pulled her into his arms. “Yeah, but who would’ve expected the best sex of my life would be with my mom?”

She laughed. “Yeah… I really didn’t think I’d get into it.” She rested her head against his shoulder. It’s so… wild.”

“We don’t have to meet them.”

“No… no I want to. I just…” She lifted her head and smiled at him.

Her eyes shone with happiness. Like she’d found contentment. He hugged her and she hugged him back, without diverting her gaze.

He moistened his lips. She continued to smile.

So he slowly bent his head.

She turned her head so his kiss landed on her cheek.

“No,” she said, looking away. “No. We can’t do that.”

He frowned but kept still.

“We can’t.”

“Okay…”

“We’re mother and son. Not lovers. Fuckbuddies.”

“Fuckbuddies who don’t kiss.”

“Maybe… maybe sometime. But not now.”

“What do you want now?”

“A good fucking.”

“Ha! I can do that.”

“You better, Buster!”

He kissed her cheek again, this time a bit further back, and then trailed his lips along her jawline. She sucked in her breath and tugged him toward the bed. Clothes flew off and she scooted to the middle of the mattress.

He stretched out beside her and continued kissing her neck and jaw. Then he shifted and began to work his way south. He swirled his tongue around one nipple when she stopped him.

“Inside me.”

He chuckled and slid a hand down her stomach. Heat radiated from her pussy and wetness quickly coated his fingers. She writhed under his touch.

He moved on top and quickly slid in. She wrapped her arms and legs around him as they began to slowly screw. He kissed her jaw, her neck, and behind her ear.

“Oh, Pete,” she moaned. She clutched at him, and her fingernails lightly scraped his back. He arched his back and closed his eyes. Then he just focused on screwing her hard and steady.

She cried out and arched her back when she came, bucking up into him. Then she silently urged him on until he filled her himself.

As he recovered from his orgasm, she continued to hold him tight, trapping him to her. He rose up enough to look into her eyes. Hers were warm, and she smiled.

“That was good.”

“Yeah.”

“But I couldn’t forget that you were my son.”

He laughed. “Me neither.” He became acutely conscious of his cock still inside her.

“I… don’t think this works for us without the taboo.”

“Yeah.”

She let him go and he pulled out and flopped by her side.

“It’s good to know.”

He snorted in agreement.

“So,” she said, “I want to get up early tomorrow and do all the touristy things. We can skip our normal breakfast.” She smirked. “And then meet with Phillipe and Sandrine. Then our final night is just us.”

He smiled. “Sounds good.”

***

They visited the Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame (just the outside), and the Montmartre neighborhood with the Moulin Rouge. Pete expected Mom to insist on a quick second visit to the Louvre, but in the early evening, she tugged him toward their hotel instead.

“What time did we say we’d meet them?” he asked.

“We didn’t,” she said. “I’ll text them when we’re on our way.”

“So we’ve got plenty of time.”

She paused and tilted her head as she looked at him.

“Let’s arrive relaxed. Like we would for a date.”

Mom smiled. “Yeah, good idea.”

He chuckled and let her have the first shower. She’d need more time with her hair anyway.

***

The club actually turned out to be hard to find. The entrance was just a plain door on a side street with an address above the door a small plaque to its right. Pete had to walk past it twice to be sure they were in the right spot. He considered, knocking, but then just turned the knob. To his surprise, it opened. He held it for Mom as she went in.

The room beyond was an opulent lobby, with a small leather bench, a coat check, and a reception desk. A black-haired woman in a slinky dress sat behind the desk. She smiled at them and said something in French.

“Pardon…,” he said. “Parles-tu anglais?”

“Yes.” She smiled. “I do. How may I help you?”

“We are meeting some friends here,” Mom said. “Phillipe and Sandrine?”

“Ah, yes. They left word. Have you been to a club like this before?”

Pete and Mom both shook their heads, so the receptionist took some time to explain the rules. Many, many rules. Pete’s head swam. He’d never realized swinging could be so… organized. Still, they both eagerly signed the waivers and paid the entrance fee. The lady then clicked a button which unlocked the door letting them all the way in.

***

The interior was just as luxurious as the lounge. Pete felt immediately dowdy and wished he’d worn his suit. He paused to catch his breath, but then he spotted Philippe and Sandrine at a corner table with a younger couple.

The man looked to be Pete’s age. He had Philippe’s thick hair and his sharp cheekbones, but was more rugged and muscular. He wore a sardonic smile and his eyes lit up when he saw Pete and Mom approach.

The woman was olive-skinned, with shoulder-length wavy hair and slightly younger than Pete. Slim and petite, she wore a scoop-necked dress that highlighted surprisingly deep cleavage.

Philippe waved, smiled, and then stood. His family joined him on their feet and he made introductions.

“Diane, Pete, these are our children, Theo and Clara.”

“Welcome,” Theo said. He clasped Mom’s extended hand in both of hers before giving Pete a friendly handshake. Clara smiled and returned to her seat.

“Theo,” Philippe said, “please fetch some glasses for our guests.” To Mom, “Champagne?”

“We’d be delighted.” Her smile grew even more when Philippe pulled out a chair for her.

After they’d gotten seated, with Pete between Clara and Sandrine, the younger woman turned to him. “I understand you have recently graduated from University.”

“Yes. About a month ago.”

She nodded. “I have been taking classes, but will need another year. Perhaps two.”

“Perhaps two?”

She smiled. “I do not attend full time.”

“She is studying art,” Sandrine added. “She is quite the painter.”

“Oh, Maman.” Clara rolled her eyes but smiled.

“What do you paint?” Pete asked.

“Oh, it is so hard to describe… abstracts with a touch of realism, if that means anything.”

“A bit.”

She smiled, and they talked about art and school, with Sandrine joining in from time to time. Clara lived at home, as did apparently Theo, whom, Sandrine said, had a job in the loan department of a bank. They both asked about Pete’s life, and laughed at some of his jokes. Philippe kept the champagne flowing. Mom laughed a lot as she flirted with the two men.

After about an hour and a half of very pleasant conversation, a short lull settled on the table. Philippe looked to his wife and kids. After short nods from each of them, he turned back to Mom and Pete.

“So,” he said, “shall we head to the back?”

Mom smiled. “We’d love to.”