Beyond the Borderline Bk. 02

"I will most definitely do that, Rick. Wow, you guys have really got me thinking now. You're a bunch of enablers, that's what you are!" she laughingly scolded.

With that, Marsh drained her mug and stood. "Well, I need to get home and have a nice hot soak. My poor little tush needs some R&R."

As she opened the back door, I called to her. "Say hi to Mr. Big for us!"

Mom was scandalized. "Ricky!" she yelled, punching my arm.

Marsh just laughed. "Is he too old to spank, Jen?"

"I'd do it in a minute if I didn't think he'd get off from it. See ya, Marsh."

"Later, Jen. Behave yourself, Rick," she called out over her shoulder as she went out the door, hips swaying.

***

These thoughts and recollections were running through my head as we cleaned up and got ready for the welcome party for Mom. She decided we should shower separately, as there was some doubt that we would get out on time if we got started again with any good clean fun. I had to admit she was probably correct, so I acquiesced and let her bathe first. When I came out of the shower, toweling my hair, Mom was putting the finishing touches on her makeup.

Glancing at me by way of the mirror, she regarded me gravely for a moment and asked, "Are you ready for the reception, darling?"

"Yes, I am, m- Jen."

"We can't have any slip ups, Ricky, either of us," she reminded me seriously, easing her reminder with a small smile.

"My game face is on, gorgeous. I'm not going to let anything ruin what we have together. Once we step out that door, it's Jenny, Jen, Jennifer no matter what," I reassured her.

"Thanks, sweetie pie. I know I can count on you," she smiled, relief in her voice. "I also know I really don't have to remind you, it's just..."

"It's just what moms do, pretty lady," I chuckled. "I'm well-used to it and I truly don't mind."

"Also, just remember this, gorgeous, behind closed doors at home, and especially between the sheets, you're always my beautiful, loving mother."

"You're such a sweetheart, son of mine. You make me feel so special," she sighed, a small catch in her voice.

"Only what my queen deserves, nothing more. Now, lets see what ensemble you're favoring us with today."

She was wearing the same outfit she went to the deposition in, back in early summer. The combination of the green silk blouse, black skirt and matching jacket looked just as gorgeous today as it did before, but with one difference.

I came up behind her, encircling her waist with my arms, nuzzling her hair. Pulling her coiffure to one side, I kissed the juncture of her shoulder and neck, lightly nibbling. Sighing, Mom leaned back into me, rubbing her ass against my perpetual boner.

"Mmmmmm, you're absolutely determined to make us late, aren't you Ricky?"

"You're the guest of honor Mom, by definition, you can't be late."

"You know that's not true, you naughty boy. Now, settle down and let me finish here."

I ran my hands up under the front of her jacket and received a surprise.

"Mom, you're not wearing a bra!"

"No shit, Sherlock," Mom laughed. "Nobody can tell with the jacket I'm wearing – only you and I will know. I like how the silk feels on my nipples," she confessed with a whisper.

Caressing her tits one last time, I gave each of her tips a light tweak through the satiny fabric of her blouse and turned her around to face me.

Kissing me lightly, she cooed and undid the towel at my waist. As it dropped to the floor, she gave me a couple of quick strokes, pausing once to cup my balls, tracing her finger lightly along my taint.

"Careful, lady," I growled. "That thing's loaded and might go off."

"I'm finding I like living on the edge," she teased, eyes sparkling. Giving me one last squeeze, she stepped away, laughing. "Now, put that monster away before someone gets hurt," she admonished. "I'm going to pick out your tie."

"God, you're a hard woman. Don't you feel guilty teasing me like that?"

"And you're a harder man, exactly the way I like 'em. And no, I don't feel the least bit guilty. Every woman needs a hobby."

Laughing, I smacked her bottom as she walked to our suitcases.

"Ouch! You're a beast, beating on your poor mother like that!" she complained, absently rubbing her buttock. "Now, where did I put that red-striped Brioni?"

***

Almost miraculously, we managed to finish getting ready without any further molestations. Just as she was making the final, motherly adjustments to my appearance (Moms will always and forever fuss about how their sons look before big social events, what's a guy to do?), the phone rang. The front desk informed us that our limo was ready and asked us to be in the lobby in five minutes.

We were initially taken to the practice's offices for a reception. It was illuminating to watch Mom in her own element, something I had seldom seen before. I had always known that she was an accomplished attorney, based on her rapid rise to partnership and the amount of responsibility she had in the practice, as well as her handsome income, but to see her interacting with her colleagues put an entirely different spin on things.

It became very clear in watching her that she wasn't simply thought to be merely a good lawyer, she was considered an authority in her area of expertise. A sort of informal, jovial testing seemed to be going on as she talked with her new partners, being sounded out on complex and controversial issues in her specialty as well as more wide-ranging legal issues. Through it all, I could see her new associates gradually becoming more and more impressed with her acumen as her friendly interrogation progressed. I could also tell from some not-so-covert glances that her physical charms were not going unappreciated, either.

I was surprised that I didn't feel jealous at all the attention she was receiving. If anything, I felt even more proud of her as my mother and my lover than I had at any previous time. It really hit home then how unbelievably fortunate I really was. I smiled and thought to myself, "Rick, you are one lucky motherfucker."

"Are you enjoying our little gathering, then?"

I was startled out of my reverie by a deep voice next to me. It belonged to an imposing figure, an elderly, cue-ball bald gentleman, sporting a quintessentially English, Harris Tweed three-piece suit. He had an honest-to-god, old fashioned, golden pince-nez perched on his hawk-like nose. Even accounting for his age-related stoop, he towered over me by a good three inches. He looked to be around seventy years old, but was lean and fit in appearance.

Holding out his hand, he offered an introduction. "Richard, I'm Seamus MacLeish. My brother Archie runs the practice. He's the one who persuaded your lovely lady to join this band of pirates. I'm more or less retired," he went on to explain. "But they do trot me out from time to time for occasions like this."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. MacLeish."

"Please, don't stand on ceremony, I insist. I'm 'Shay' or, if you prefer, 'Clay' to my friends."

"Thanks. Please call me Rick. Can you explain 'Clay' to me?"

"It dates back to my time at University. It's short for 'Claymore' – I did some sabre fencing in my undergraduate days."

"Clay it is, then," I affirmed.

"I hope you're not feeling left out of the festivities. I would guess you understand that Jennifer tends to draw a crowd wherever she is. She has a rare combination of intellect, grace and beauty that few women are blessed with."

"Actually, I spend most of my time thinking that I'm the one who's blessed, Clay. I'm very, very lucky."

"That you are, my friend. I'm glad you recognize that." Changing the subject, he began his own polite interrogation. "I understand you're in the restaurant business."

"Soon to be, I hope. I'm looking to find a suitable location to open my own place once we get moved."

"I may be able to be of assistance to you in that regard."

"I couldn't possibly impose on you for something like that, especially on such short acquaintance."

"And I normally wouldn't make such an offer to someone I didn't know well, but you must remember you are part of our professional family now. Besides, I have at least two ulterior motives, if you will allow me to explain."

"First, I have an entire career's worth of connections in this city, including in commercial real estate. I know where most of the bodies are buried," he grinned. "If there's anything I can do that will make Jennifer's start here less stressful, either directly or indirectly, I'm going to pursue that. It's in the interests of the practice. That would include reducing her worries about the inception of your own business."

"Secondly, I have a selfish reason for helping you. I'm the chair of the local gourmet society. Fine dining has been a passion of mine for almost fifty years. I'll not pass up an opportunity to cultivate a relationship with an up and coming new chef if I can help it."

As Shay described his intentions, it became clear that I had stumbled on to an unexpected piece of good luck and a broad grin broke across my face. "In that case, I'll accept gratefully. We can discuss this more over dinner, if you like."

"It will be a pleasure, my boy, let me assure you."

Feeling a hand on my shoulder, I turned to find Mom standing behind me.

"Rick, I'd like you to meet Archie MacLeish."

Archibald MacLeish was very much Seamus' brother, except where Clay was somewhat stooped, Archibald was, at ten years younger, still ramrod straight. He was easily as trim and fit as his elder brother, if not more so, but where the elder MacLeish sported a gleaming pate, Archibald had a muddy, unruly mop of red hair gone most of the way to silver-gray. No pince-nez for the younger MacLeish, though. A pair of utilitarian reading glasses hung around his neck, suspended from a silver chain. Where the elder brother favored rustic tweed, Archibald clearly leaned to Saville Row, as evidenced by a very elegant, worsted gray wool suit. He was my height, looking me directly in the eye as we shook hands.

"Rick, it is truly a pleasure to meet you. I had always wondered what kind of a man had captured Jennifer's heart. I must confess though, I had pictured someone a bit different."

"Did I really give you the impression of someone different, Archie?" Mom inquired.

"I suppose I just assumed that a lady as talented, educated and cultured as you would have landed a massively successful, 'captain of industry' type. You know, weekends yachting in the Hamptons, a box at the Met and philanthropy, that sort of thing," he laughed easily. "Just goes to show how dangerous assumptions can be."

"I guess I'm just a little less conventional than you imagined, Archie," Mom stated drily.

I struggled to maintain my composure after hearing Mom's retort, nearly choking on my drink. "I guess you could say we're a somewhat less than usual couple," I agreed, and then it was Mom's turn to suppress a laugh. "Even so, it works for us. I can't imagine being with anyone else, " I affirmed.

Mom stepped up next to me and slipped her arm around my waist. "Same for me, Archie. What's not to like? Talented, hard working, romantic and handsome, this one is. Of course, I'll need to take him down a couple of notches after all those compliments, but that's for later," Mom laughed.

"Jen, I thought it was agreed that we would keep the sadomasochistic elements of our relationship a secret," I joked, a deadpan expression on my face.

Archibald and Seamus paused and looked at me in shock, not sure that they had actually heard what I just said. When I grinned and winked at them, they simultaneously snorted in their drinks, setting up a stereophonic coughing spell. Dabbing, the front of his suit with his handkerchief, Archie cleared his throat, eyes watering, while Clay struggled to get his breath back.

"Oh, and did I mention he has a wicked sense of humor, too?" Mom's tinkling laugh attracting all eyes in the room to us.

Finally regaining his composure, Clay put his arm over my shoulder, turning to his brother. "By God, Arch, I think we need to get to know this young man better. I'm beginning to appreciate what Jennifer must see in you."

"Speaking of which," Archie interjected, "Would I be out of line in inquiring how you two met? You two seem so well matched to each other, it's immediately apparent that you share a very close bond."

I glanced at Mom, waiting for her to take the lead. We had discussed things before we left the hotel and knew this was likely to come up.

"We've known each other for quite a few years, Archie," she explained. "There's always been a strong attraction, but neither of use was in a position in our lives to do anything about it until recently. Our careers were starting to move us away from each other and I guess, when we thought about it, we didn't want that to end our friendship. Over the past several months, we finally acknowledged what was really there between us. Thing have been wonderful since then. I sometimes find myself wondering why we waited so long."

Archie nodded in assent. "Often those things which are most important in our daily existence are under our very noses, and we don't recognize them because they are too close to us. When we are forced to step back, then we see what is truly valuable in our lives."

Clay turned to me and asked, "What about you Rick? I know Jennifer's story, the tragedy of her parents, her estranged son living in New York. I'm curious about your family. Do you have any relatives in the Pacific Northwest?"

"No, Clay. My only living relative is my mother."

"I see. If it's not out of line, may I ask what she thinks about you and Jennifer?"

"Oh, she's always been my biggest supporter and fully approves of me and Jen," I replied, glancing at Mom.

Mom quickly took a sip from her drink, eyes dancing as she returned my glance. I was beginning to get a little nervous about the direction of our conversation, but Mom seemed to be enjoying herself hugely. Still, there were obviously no flies on the MacLeish brothers and I was starting to worry that I might let something slip or create an inconsistency I couldn't explain away. Once again, Mom saved my bacon.

"I think it's safe to say that Rick's mother and I get along very well. It's really a shame that you probably won't get to meet her – she doesn't travel on account of her agoraphobia and Manitoba is a long ways from here."

Archie and Seamus made some sympathetic noises in my direction, which I acknowledged and then Mom stepped up to the helm, steering the good ship Incest away from the reef of discovery.

"Clay, I understand that you have invested a significant amount of effort in selecting the site of our dinner this evening. I'd love to hear what you decided on."

With that, Seamus was off to the races, giving Mom and me a blow-by-blow description of the plans for our evening meal. I heaved a large mental sigh of relief and fully relaxed for the first time since our arrival.

***

We mingled for another hour or so, getting to meet the other partners in the firm as well as the support staff. A couple of the paralegals and one of the female associates had me in their sights briefly, but when it became clear I only had eyes for my beautiful lady, they retracted their hooks and skulked off in search of other prey. I could tell Mom found their interactions with me to be highly amusing. I knew that I'd be in for unmerciful ribbing once we got back to the hotel, but what can you do?

Eventually, the reception broke up and the MacLeishes and a couple of other senior partners took us to dinner at a small, unpretentious bistro overlooking Coal Harbor.

"I know it doesn't look like much," Seamus explained, "But I can absolutely guarantee you that you will be having some of the finest, freshest seafood in the city tonight. Also, essentially everything else you put in your mouth this evening is locally grown. I can recommend the mussels and halibut without reservation, but I have it on good authority that the chef also has taken delivery on some live Geoduck, if your tastes run in that direction."

"Gooey duck?" Mom asked.

"Local giant clams, Jen," I explained. "They live three to four feet beneath the surface in tidal mud flats."

"The name is based on local Indian dialect, meaning 'to dig deep'," Archie added. "They are a highly sought after delicacies in the Far East. The Japanese have been known to pay up to two hundred dollars a pound for them, so most of the harvest goes to export."

"Well, I know that I don't need to look at the menu, if the chef has them," I stated. "I'm in your debt, Clay. I've always wanted to try them and now I'll have the opportunity."

"Count me in as well," Mom declared. "I'm always up for an eating adventure."

"Bravo," Seamus applauded. "Nothing like jumping in with both feet, I always say. I admire the adventurous spirit you both show."

The waiter made his appearance and we placed our orders. By way of another friendly test, Seamus deferred the choice of wines to me. I negotiated a tasting flight of five wines with the sommelier, Seamus arching his eyebrow in polite surprise at several of my choices.

I explained how I planned to drink my choices, emphasizing the pairings with the different modes of preparation of the clams, one to go with the garlic wine sauté, another for the sashimi with mirin, the third with the traditional spicy Korean recipe, and so on. He was politely skeptical at first, but as we worked our way through the meal, he was very pleasantly surprised by several of the combinations, raising my stock considerably.

Having finally established my bona fides to his satisfaction, Seamus and I launched into an in depth discussion of my restaurant plans and by the time dessert rolled around, we had formulated a plan of action for the following day. He actually took time to call a friend, one of the most knowledgeable commercial realtors in the city, to set up an exploration for us the following morning. It was agreed that Mom would accompany us so as to get a feel for the city, which I would have insisted on anyway. The following day would be devoted to her visiting her new practice during working hours, while Seamus would take me out to lunch. Our visit was shaping into quite the whirlwind.

Back in the hotel that evening, I was surprised that Mom did not tease me immediately about the women who were scoping me out at the reception. She must have been exceptionally horny, because she wasted no time in getting my head under her dress, basically pushing me to the floor of the entryway in our suite and straddling my face the moment the door was closed.

I found her crotch soaked and her thighs slick with woman juice. The air under the skirt was thick with her scent, a veritable hothouse of damp panties, matted, wet pubic hair and slick, engorged labia. I felt like I was slipping into a thick fogbank of aroused female essence. She pulled the gusset of her panties to one side as she lowered herself to my eager mouth, her fingers on either side of her petals as she opened her flower to my tongue.

Needless to say, I enjoyed my second dessert.

After eating her to two quick, but intense climaxes, I was finally able to maneuver her out of her clothes and into our bed, where I promptly got rode hard and put up wet. To continue the mixed metaphor, when Mom gets the bit between her teeth, it's best to let her have her way, and that night was no exception. I was well rewarded for my patience, though.

As we cuddled in the afterglow, catching our breath, Mom idly traced her fingers over my chest and abdomen while I held her under my arm.

"I'm not wearing you out, am I Ricky?"

"Not a chance, Mom."

"I did warn you how horny I get when I'm pregnant."

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