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At the same time she had bought new swimming shorts for Alex, and they were extremely short.

As he came up the beach towards them the wet shorts moulded to Alex's penis which was obviously erect. Pixie thought that this display of manhood must have been inspired by some girl on the beach, but then she noticed he was gazing at her. She felt herself responding to his arousal, and so while Darryl made his habitual survey of what he called "The Talent," Pixie and Alex had only eyes for each other.

Alex had been seventeen at the time; Pixie had been impressed not only by Alex's erection, but by his good looks as well. With a mother's pride she'd had the photograph enlarged and framed, and it had been placed alongside her wedding photograph and some pictures of Alex at various stages of his life. Now it stood alone on the escritoire, a mute symbol of a mother's delight in her son.

It was surprising she kept that photo because Pixie was so alarmed by what had passed between her and Alex she never wore that negligible garment again. That moment of mutual arousal changed something in their relationship. It was like the awakening of something that had lain dormant, and once awakened could not be put back to sleep.

* * * * * * * *

Pixie drifted off into that state when we hang between sleep and wakefulness and otherwise repressed thoughts and memories come uninhibited bubbling to the surface and take on a dream like quality.

The photographic image of Alex she had been looking at lingered on in her mind and gradually appeared to come to life. Alex seemed to step out of the picture and approach her. He sat beside her on the divan and they spoke together, but what words they had spoken she could never afterwards remember.

As they spoke Alex's hand began to caress her thigh and under its caress she laid back. His hand gradually moved to the top of her thigh and as it reached her genitals she pushed him away crying out, "No...no..."

She woke suddenly, whether because of the incestuous content of her fantasy or the arrival home of Alex she couldn't be sure.

He had called out as he passed the living room, "Hi mum, going to have a shower and I'll be right with you."

Pixie sat up and glancing at the clock saw that it was twenty one minutes past eleven. She lay back again waiting for Alex to come in to say goodnight.

He entered smiling and wearing his bath robe. He had been aware of what day it was and what it had probably meant to his mother. As he approached her she sat up and Alex sat beside her.

"How's it been mother?" he asked.

"Pretty terrible darling she said, I couldn't stop...stop...remembering." At last the tears she had held back all day came, and Alex put an arm round her. She leaned against him and they remained like that until her sobs started to subside. She raised her tear stained face to him in mute request, and Alex bent to kiss her.

It was nice, very nice Pixie thought; she had not been kissed like that for a long time, not even by Alex.

Reassuringly Alex said, "You know I love you mother."

Pixie felt the warmth of his love surge through her and she said, "Yes darling, I know." Then she almost spoilt the moment by adding, "It's a pity your father never loved me as much as you do."

Alex seemed unaffected by the mention of his father as he said, "If I'd been him I'd never have betrayed you mother, never."

She looked into his face searchingly, and seeking there the truth of his words. "Words are easy to speak," she thought, "but can be damned hard to live by."

What she saw seemed to set her mind at rest and she said, "No, I don't think you ever would betray me."

He kissed her again this time, a longer kiss and Pixie felt it to be the kiss of an ardent lover. She responded to it, parting her lips to let his tongue begin to explore her mouth. She felt his hand gently fondling one of her breasts though the thin cloth of her housecoat.

It felt good, very good, and apart from her own hands she hadn't been touched there for along time, and he did it so gently, so lovingly.

As

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