After several minutes of hot water pounding on his shoulders and neck, Pete let out a relieved sigh. The shower was definitely washing away his tension.

The guilt still hung around—he should’ve stopped!—but Mom was right. He couldn’t go back and undo that. It had all happened so fast, and he’d been so turned on, and…

Mom was right. You couldn’t uncrack the egg. What was done was done.

He’d fucked his mom, and he’d known it was her before he did it. And he’d done it anyway.

And… it’d been fucking amazing. Probably the best sex of his life.

He searched his memory. No, definitely the best sex of his life.

The way she’d—

He forced his mind away from those thoughts.

He shouldn’t’ve done it. What kind of pervert fucks his mom?

A pervert like him, apparently.

He stepped forward, and the shower spray moved to the scratches on his back and he jumped in pain. Why the fuck had Mom done that? She really hadn’t had to dig in with her nails. The little lines weren’t deep, but they stung when touched. He was gonna have to wear a loose shirt. Especially if he ran into Jenna.

He got out and dried off as best he could. After pulling on some underwear and jeans, he headed back into the main room.

“Mom!” he called into her bedroom. “You got any first aid cream?”

“No… why, honey?”

“My back. You scratched it up pretty bad.”

He heard shuffling and a moment later, Mom emerged, mostly dressed and wide-eyed.

“I did what?” she asked.

“My back.” He turned.

“Oh! Oh…” She lightly touched his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I’m sorry, Pete. I don’t… I don’t usually do that.”

He snorted.

“I don’t! Only when—well, sometimes. I’m sorry. I’ll run down to the front desk and see if they have any cream.”

“You have to get to the conference,” he mildly protested.

“Oh, it’s no problem. No problem at all.” Her smile was weak.

“Why don’t I order us some room service? That way you won’t be late.”

“That’d be wonderful. I’ll be right back.”

***

Pete winced when his mom touched his first scratch. He did his best to stay still. Sitting on one of the breakfast nook chairs backwards, he could lean part of his chest against its back. It helped, some, but the fabric was rough against his skin.

She slid her finger along the scratch and he flinched.

“I’m so sorry, honey.”

“I know.”

She finished one scratch and moved to the next. This time, he jerked a lot more with the jab of pain.

“I really am,” she soothed. “I didn’t mean to…”

“You were just… caught up in the moment.”

She quietly chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”

He managed to hold still as she shifted to the next wound.

“You know I’d never want to hurt you,” she continued.

“It didn’t hurt at the time.”

“No…” Her smile came through in her tone. “I imagine it didn’t.”

“Did you—” He caught himself. Asking if she’d done this with Dad was stupid.

“Did I what?”

“Did you—do you—like doing that?”

“With my nails?” She moved on to the next cut.

“Yeah.” He got bold. “It was pretty clear you liked the other stuff.”

She playfully slapped the top of his shoulder. “Careful, Buster.”

“Well, you did!” He squirmed around so he could see her face. She was actually smiling.

“That doesn’t mean we should’ve done it.” She raised her index finger and shook it, still smiling. “Got it?”

“Got it.” He turned back around.

They both remained silent as she treated the last of his scratches.

***

He studied his mom across the breakfast table while she read the conference guide. Just how had he mistaken her for Jenna?

Their builds were pretty similar and they were about the same height, but that was it. Jenna’s blonde hair hung in curls to her shoulders where mom’s light brown hair was longer and straighter. Mom’s nose was more angled, as were her cheekbones. Jenna’s chin was more rounded and her neck was shorter.

And their touch… their touch was completely different. Jenna tended to be rough, and decisive in what she wanted. Mom was gentler. Her fingers had almost caressed him as she spread the first aid cream over his scratches.

She glanced up and caught him looking at her.

“What?” she asked.

“Wondering how I could’ve mistaken you for Jenna.”

She frowned and turned back to her guide. “You saw what you expected to see.”

“Fair enough.”

She returned to her guide.

He continued watching her. She was actually quite beautiful. Especially for her age. How had he not noticed?

That was a stupid question. Because she’d always been “Mom.” You weren’t supposed to notice that your own mom was hot. “MILF” applied to other moms. Not your own.

But Mom was hot. Objectively so.

His gut tightened and a wave of guilt washed through him. He returned his attention to the eggs on his plate.

He should’ve stopped. Well, at least before they fucked. Before that… before that, he had no reason to believe it was Mom and not Jenna. Mom had her own bedroom after all…

***

Pete waited a full five minutes after his mom left. He actually watched the clock. That was enough time for her to turn around for anything she’d forgotten, but he doubted she had. She’d taken her computer bag and didn’t need much else.

Still, it felt… wrong… to steal into her bedroom. Sure enough, the sheets were askew and covered in dark red splatters. An empty wine glass sat on the nightstand with the same red residue in its bottom. It took him a minute to spot the empty bottle on its side on the floor.

He still didn’t understand why she’d been drinking wine in bed, but at least she’d been honest about her reason for switching.

The nightstand drawer was open an inch. Curious.

He pulled the drawer the rest of the way open and grinned. A rabbit vibrator had been casually tossed inside. He briefly wondered if she’d gotten off before she’d spilled the wine.

He grinned. She’d certainly gotten off after.

He shook himself. He wasn’t supposed to think that way about his mother!

But… it was still the best sex he’d ever had.

Could he feel guilty, for not feeling guilty?

He should’ve stopped. They should’ve have done it.

But man, it’d been amazing.

Even better than Jenna.

Speaking of which…

He needed to finish getting dressed and see if he could find her.

***

Jenna wasn’t in the hotel restaurant, nor the lobby or the lounge that overlooked the garden. He realized, to his bemusement, that he didn’t know her room number either. Her meeting was in town, but he didn’t know where or how long it would last.

He didn’t know much about her, actually. She’d only said she was in real estate, but not what her meeting today was actually about. All their conversations had been about Europe, or her distant past, or his life. She’d said very little about her own.

He made one more check through the hotel before he decided he had to talk to the desk. The clerk, a young woman in a sharp business suit smiled as he approached.

“Excuse me,” he said. “Could you please ring Jenna Jordan’s room for me?”

“Yes, sir.”

The “sir” felt a little strange, but he smiled and waited while she consulted her computer.

“I’m sorry, sir, but Mrs. Jordan has checked out.”

He blinked. Mrs.?

The clerk furrowed her brow. Then she studied him. “Are you Pete Masterson?

“Yes.”

“She left you a note.” The clerk reached under the desk and passed him a folded piece of paper.

He stepped away from the desk as he opened it. The flowery handwriting filled less than half the page.

Dearest Pete,

Thank you for the most wonderful day and evening. I am so flattered that you found an old woman like me so desirable. I will remember our time together fondly for years to come.

I’ve decided to head to Glasgow early. My business and, yes, family, calls. Enjoy your time in London and Paris. I hope our time together was just the beginning of a marvelous vacation.

With appreciation,

Jenna

He read it a second time before folding it up. He sighed. Well, that was that.

***

He spent the morning wandering the town more or less aimlessly. He thought some about Jenna, but he’d had one-night stands before. Not with an older married woman, but to be fair, he hadn’t known she was married. Any maybe she wasn’t, but it was irrelevant. If he’d woken up in an empty bed, that pretty much would’ve been the end of it.

But he hadn’t. And the woman he’d fucked had been his mom. He’d known it, and done it anyway.

And what blew his mind was that it’d been the best sex of his life.

Every time he thought about the way she moaned, the way she tasted, the way her pussy felt, his cock stiffened. He should feel ashamed.

But he didn’t. And the more he thought about it, the less guilty he felt.

His mom was, objectively, sexy as fuck. He knew it, his friends knew it. Any man who wasn’t blind knew it.

And it wasn’t like she was particularly maternal either. Oh, she had been when he was little, but she’d raised him to be an independent equal from before he became a teen. He’d never really acted out or rebelled because… why? They’d been able to negotiate any curfew, rule, or privilege he’d wanted.

She was also surprisingly progressive for a woman of his generation. When he’d gotten his first girlfriend his freshman year of high school, she’d supplied him with condoms. When he told her about losing his virginity, she took him out for ice cream to celebrate him becoming a man.

He smiled to himself. She was probably the main reason he’d had such a great sex life as a teen. She knew he was fooling around with his girlfriends in his bedroom but made it clear she was never going to interrupt. Though she had smirked all evening after he brought Theresa home. But then, Theresa was a screamer.

Of course, he’d done the same smirk the nights that she’d had a man spend the night. Mom wasn’t particularly loud, but she had this glow after she’d been well fucked.

Which she’d had this morning, he realized. He’d just been too caught up in everything to notice at the time.

She’d clearly enjoyed it, too. She’d come hard.

He smirked. He wasn’t sure he’d ever made a woman come that hard.

If she hadn’t been his mom, he wouldn’t have any reason to feel guilty

Except—he didn’t feel guilty anyway.

He continued to stroll around the town as his mind ran in loops.

***

Mom found him on a bench in the garden right before lunch. She wore a worried smile and glanced around before walking over to him. Fortunately, in the overcast day, everyone else had remained inside.

“How’s your back?” she asked, a hint of nervousness in her voice.

“Fine.” He smiled in return.

“Good. I was, uh, worried it might’ve started bleeding.”

“They weren’t that deep. But… are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said hastily. “I was just worried you might be… hurt. Are you… hurt?”

He snorted softly. “You mean, am I okay with what happened?”

She nodded.

“I’m fine.”

She let out a relieved breath.

He tapped the seat next to him. She sat, putting them side by side.

“I’m fine,” he repeated. “Why?”

“Because.” After a long pause. “Because things like this are supposed to screw you up.”

“I don’t feel screwed up. Screwed yes, but not screwed up.”

She smirked, before her nervousness returned. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah… and if I was thirteen, I probably would be. But I’m not.”

She nodded and let out a relieved breath.

“Do you feel screwed up?”

She smirked. “Screwed, but not screwed up.” Then she started to blush. “Oh, God, I can’t believe I just said that.”

He laughed. “It’s okay.” He put his arm around her and gave her a hug. “There’s nothing wrong with you. I’m the motherfucker here.”

She burst out laughing, hard and long, to the point of tears. She smiled as she wiped them away.

“Thanks,” she said. “I needed that.”

“Anytime."

She glanced at the door back into the hotel. “We should get some lunch. I need to be in my next session at one.”

He hugged her before they stood. But then, before pulling away, she turned to him.

“Just so you know,” she said with a warm smile, “you may be a motherfucker, but you’re my motherfucker. I love you so much. Got that?”

“Love you too, Mom.”

He gave her another hug before they went in.

***

Pete looked up from his book as the door to the suite opened. Mom walked in, all smiles, but with a bit of hesitation in her eyes.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

She shrugged. “Okay. Say… what do you think about having dinner here? In the room?”

“Sure.”

“You don’t have a date?”

“Jenna checked out.”

“She did?”

He shrugged. “Two ships that passed in the night.”

“Instead of colliding.” She smiled sadly. Then she strode to the little breakfast nook table and invited him to join her with a wave. She waited until he sat across from her.

“So,” she said. “I’ve been thinking. Last night was a mistake, but we can’t undo it.”

“Can’t uncrack the egg,” he said.

“Exactly,” she said. “So the question is how much of a mess we made.”

“Like how?”

“Well, I can’t get pregnant, so that’s one less worry. And you’re an adult, so we don’t have to worry about abuse. You’re not traumatized, right?”

He snorted. “Nope.”

“Well, me neither. So the question is what this does to our relationship?”

“Why does it have to do anything?”

She gave him a firm stare. “We had sex. That changes things.”

“Only if we let it.”

She blinked, and then leaned back. “How can it not?”

“Sex and love aren’t the same thing,” Pete said. “I don’t love Jenna. She doesn’t love me.”

“But you love me…”

“Not romantically.” He smirked. “Yeah, Freud would probably have a field day here, but…” He shrugged.

“Freud was obsessed with dicks.” She actually started to grin.

“You get my point.”

“Yeah.” Her grin turned into a smile. “We’ve been equals for a while.”

“Mmm hmm.”

“So…,” she said. “You’re okay with this?”

He laughed. “Okay with it? If I could, I’d do it again!”

Her eyes went wide with surprise.