Unspoken Pleasure (erotica)
Mom's Touch But Don't Look Policy:>Ep8

The next morning, we woke up for our morning run. The days were getting hotter, and more people were out on the streets with us. The world was slowly reawakening.

We'd gotten up to five miles a day and I was starting to feel really good. It was warm enough, too, where I was able to run without a shirt. I tried to convince Mom to go with just a sports bra, but she told me she didn't feel appropriate being exposed like that.

We were at our usual pace as we turned the corner down a quiet, tree-lined street. We were doing so well, I was starting to think about pushing it, maybe up to 7 miles. Mom usually trailed me when we ran, but as we turned, she caught up to my side.

She looked down at my bare chest. For a moment, I saw her eyes go wide. Then she fell back.

"Mom?" I turned around, thinking she'd just lost her pace. Instead, I found her sprawled in the middle of the street. "Mom!"

I raced back and knelt next to her. Mom was lying on the ground. She had a light scratch on her cheek. She looked at me, her blue eyes small and scared.

"I tripped," Mom said, "I'm OK." But her body belied her calm demeanor -- lying in the fetal position on the ground.

"Can you stand?" I asked.

"Definitely," Mom said. She started to get up, but when she put weight on her left leg, she tumbled back over again.

I rushed to be next to her.

"Knee?" I asked, worried. If her knee was out, we were calling an ambulance.

"Ankle," Mom said. Ok, maybe that wasn't so bad.

Gingerly, I helped my Mom stand. She was OK on her right leg, but she held her left lamely.

"I can walk home," Mom said. She took a step, grimaced, then took another.

"I'm calling someone," I said.

"No," Mom said, "I'm fine."

I watched, grimly, as she limped down the street. We were three miles from home. There was no way she would make it.

Before she could argue, I raced up and scooped my mom into my arms. I held her up, like a baby, and started to walk us back home. Mom wasn't tiny, but she was light. I hadn't done all that upper body work planning to one day carry a woman three miles, but it seemed like a worthy reward in the moment.

We walked down the street; my mother clutched to my chest.

"Sorry," Mom said. She was clearly embarrassed by what had happened. "I guess I tripped on something."

"It's OK," I said, "I'm just glad I can be here for you."

"My little knight," Mom said, remembering her old nickname for me. "Come to save me once again."

"I wouldn't have it any other way," I said.

Three miles running is very different than three miles walking. Especially while carrying someone. We had to break a couple of times so I could rest. It had taken us less than an hour to get out but coming back to the house took more than three.

When we finally got home, both of us collapsed on the front lawn. We lay on the grass, staring up at the blue sky. The day was warm. The air smelled like honeysuckle. The world was comfortingly quiet. "This is nice," Mom said.

"No, it's not," I said.

She reached over and grabbed my hand, squeezing it tight. "Yes, but it kinda is."

I pulled her hand to my lips and kissed it. Chivalrous to the end. For a moment, I thought Mom would yell at me for doing something affectionate where she could see it. Where everyone could. But instead, she beamed at me. Eventually, we were able to get up and I carried Mom inside the house, up to her bedroom. Even as an adult, it felt strange being in Mom's space. Like I'd crossed an invisible barrier into my parents' private world. The room was well appointed with dark woods and a crimson comforter. It felt very mature. Quite demure.

I laid Mom down carefully on her Queen-sized bed. Then I went downstairs to the fridge and threw together a bag of ice. When I came back, Mom was lying back, head propped up by the pillows. She was still in her running outfit: tight black yoga pants and a green tank top. Her ponytail was askew, and her blonde hair stuck out in little, golden streaks.

With everything going on in the world, I really didn't want to take Mom to the hospital. Instead, I looked up what Dr. Google thought and put together a little plan. Rest and ice, mostly, while checking for swelling. I knew that if Mom couldn't put weight on the ankle, she'd be going to the doctor, but I was hoping it was just a sprain and she'd be fine.

Once I was sure my patient was OK, I went and took a shower. Then I made some breakfast and brought it up for Mom.

"Do you want to take a shower, too?" I asked, hoping for the chance to help her.

"I'm OK for now," Mom said, and I knew that I'd gone too far. Again, that was the problem with hiding our relationship under a blanket, it was impossible to truly understand the shape of it. Instead, I had to guess and, occasionally, break the boundaries by accident.

I knew I'd overstepped, so I got up off the bed.

"Let me know when you're done," I said, "I'll change out your ice bag."

"It's good to have my little knight back," Mom said.

"He never left," I replied, standing over her. Mom gave me a dubious look.

"You're the one who pulled away, Mom," I said, the bitterness creeping into my voice.

"Me? You're the one who started spending all that time with your father," Mom said, "I thought maybe you'd just, I don't know, grown out of me."

"I thought I'd done something to make you mad," I said. I sat back down on the edge of the bed.

"So, we both separated for no reason," Mom said, drawing the conclusion for both of us.

"I guess so," I said, "I'm sorry. I feel like we lost so much time together."

"I love you so much," Mom said, "I don't want to miss anything more."

I climbed over and carefully hugged Mom. She kissed my cheek, then we broke apart.