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My Boss took me to a cheater's paradise.

I wasn't used to most of my friends' parents wanting anything to do with us, socially. She crossed her bare legs, one over the other, and the material she was wearing slid back well above her knees. "Those biscuits and cookies are from our own kitchen."

I nodded and reached out to try one, as Azazel poured out cups of tea, first for his mother, then for me, and finally himself. The tea was a little different, but good. The baked goods, as well, tasted different, like the taste of some other continent, but not unpleasantly. It was becoming a theme with the whole house.

"I didn't introduce myself properly," his mother said to me. "Call me Eva, please. None of this 'Mrs. Sinclair' stuff. It's so nice that my boy has met such a good friend here already. I know moving is hard." Without looking, she reached into a wooden box on the table at her side and pulled out a small pipe. "Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"Good," she lit up her pipe, and gently inhaled and exhaled the thin, grey smoke. "Would you like some?"

I shook my head, "Not right now."

Azazel and I sat quietly on the sofa, sipping our tea, occasionally reaching out for another crunchy morsel, as his mother sat there and smoked. I tried to sneak glances at her chest as it rose and fell, some of her mouth-watering cleavage visible above the line of her nightie.

She finally heavily exhaled out her nose and stood up, with a little smile, "Alright, you boys are still getting to know each other, I think I'm just getting in the way right now. No, no, it's perfectly normal, I'll let you two boys to your business. Don't work too hard. Joe, you're welcome to stay for dinner if you want."

With that she stood up, pipe between her teeth, and slowly walked out. I made sure Azazel was looking elsewhere, then lingeringly watched her ass move side-to-side as she walked out of the room.

We worked on the project a while longer, until we were clear on what we would do over the next week, and I then mentioned I should probably get going. Azazel asked me to stay longer, not out of politeness but out of genuine friendship, but I was too nervous of overstaying my welcome. I offered to take the bus home, or even maybe walk if the evening stayed warm, but he insisted on driving me back.

It was only back in his car, with the fresh air streaming into the open window, and the sights of everyday dull suburban reality flashing by on the roadsides, that I realized what a high I had experienced back at the house. It wasn't a drunkenness or a stupor, but only now was I conscious that I was beginning to come down. I didn't know if it was the food or the smoke, or the house itself. Or, another thought occurred to me, his mother.

We were mostly quiet on the ride back, but I spoke up when we were near my house. "Your mom's pretty cool."

Azazel shrugged, "Yeah thanks, I guess."

"I bet a lot of guys wish their mom was like that," I said, then added a little laugh to hopefully make the remark very ambiguous.

As he stopped by my driveway and let me out his last comment was, "She likes you too. See you at school tomorrow."

*****

We finished the project well, meeting a few other times in the school library, and so we talked a little less after that, especially as I had a part-time job to go to at least 3 times a week. One day after English class he stopped me and asked if I wanted to come over on the weekend.

"Well, I finish work around three, so I can come by afterward?" I said with a shrug.

He nodded and smiled at me, "Excellent. I'll tell my mother. I mean, just so she'll stay out of our hair. Maybe make something for dinner. No big deal, it'll be cool to hang out again."

That Saturday I took the bus from work to a stop on the closest large street near their home. Walking through the streets using a rough map I'd sketched out on the blank side of work memo, I wasn't sure what to expect.

Azazel greeted me at the door, and we did fairly normal things.

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