Dr. Blacklung, I Presume?, Part 19

Dr. Blacklung, I Presume
By:  slimv

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Chapter 19: The Dinner Date
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Tad lurked in the shadows of the doorframe soaking up the sight of his mother
lighting another cigarette.  It was a routine he'd grown up accustomed to
seeing but never grew tired of.  His penis ached from friction as it
struggled against his jeans.  He absorbed her beauty and wondered how she
could think tonight was out of pity or duty.  He loved her as his mother and
as the woman of his dreams.

She had never taken a back seat to any other woman in his heart or mind.
There had never been a time when he didn't ache to tell her.  Screw Oedipus
and fuck his raging hormones.  What he felt for her was more than lust or
incestuous perversion.  He worshipped her the way his father should have.  

Dr. Avery's words reverberated in his head.  Women smoked for men.  There had
once been a time when she smoked for his father but that time had passed.  It
was his time now.  He wanted his mother to smoke for him.  And yes, he wanted
to smoke for her.

How many times had he picked up a pack of his mother's cigarettes and admired
the way they looked and felt in his hand?  And how many times had the thought
of her disapproval sent him reeling?  The idea of him smoking was every bit
as taboo as the thought of their unholy union.  He was 16- almost a man.  He
had every right to smoke.  He should walk in right now, take his mother's
pack and light up in front of her and show her that he's a man!  Yes.  He
should do that.  But no, he wouldn't.  Not yet.  Not now.

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He sat on the edge of the bathtub watching her as she applied her make-up in
front of the mirror betw een puffs from her cigarette.  The bathroom was
small and quickly filled with the smoke from her lungs as he hoped it would
when he closed the door upon entering.  He took a deep breath of her second
hand smoke.  The fragrance was he tasted was her and he wanted to devour her.

"I'm sorry this is taking so long," apologized Joan.  "Your father always
hated waiting on me.  I'll be done in just a minute and then we can go.  I'm
sure you're starved."

"Don't worry about me," said Tad.  "I'm fine.  So are you going to let me
have a glass of wine tonight with dinner?  After all, we're supposed to make
tonight kind of special, right?"

Joan turned from mirror and looked at her son with an expression of concern
and doubt.  She knew he was halfway kidding about the wine, but it was the
other half that bothered her.

"I know tonight is special Honey.  And you'll never know how much I
appreciate what you're going to do for me.  But you can't lose sight of the
fact that whatever happen s between us tonight, two things will hold true.
The first is that I'm your mother and you're my son.  The second is, I'm an
adult and you're a boy.  You're only 16, so no, there will only be one glass
of wine at the table tonight.  Have I made my self clear?"

"Yes," winced Tad.

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"May I," asked Tad as he leaned over the table, offering a light.

The sight of a lighter in her son's hand sickened her and she opened in her
mouth to voice her disapproval, but something in his eyes caused her to stop
short.  "Thank you," she said as she dipped the end of her cigarette into the
flame, cupping his hand in hers.

She smirked and he caught it.

"What's so funny," he asked.

"You," she said.  "It bothered me when I saw that lighter in your hand.  You
know how I feel about the idea of you and your sister smoking.  Not that
lighting someone else's cigarette is the same thing.  It's not.  I guess it's
just the association.  But that's not the funny thing.  The funny thing is
that if your lighting my cigarette is my biggest problem with tonight then I
have some serious problems."

Tad smiled weakly.  "Is it my age or is it because you're my mother that
bothers you so much?"

Joan put the cigarette to her lips and pulled as she thought how to best
answer his question.  "It's both I guess.  Of course its not as if I wouldn't
be nervous if this was happening ten years from now.  Of course it wouldn't
happen then, would it?  You'd be 26 and I'd be 67.  I don't know how you can
stomach the idea of going through with this now.  Oh and the smoke!  Please
don't kiss me tonight."

He wanted to argue.  He wanted to tell her that age had nothing to do with
why he was here.  He wanted to tell her not to be ashamed of her smoky mouth
and how he had dreamed of what her smoky kisses would taste like.  There was
so much he wanted to tell her but the woman with the name badge that said
Tina wanted to tell them about their spe cial.

He looked at Tina as if she had interrupted the most important moment of his
life.  If she caught the hint she was unfazed as she recited the restaurant's
special.  She told them about glazed shrimp and the hearty rubbed rib eye.
The vegetable of the day was broccoli but it was special because it was
served on a bed of wild rice.  He had known what he and his mother would
order from the moment they walked in and smelled the searing beef.  But he
waited politely for Tina to finish before ordering two rib eyes without rub,
cooked medium rare, both with loaded potato and blue cheese dressing on the
house salad.

"And what to drink," asked Tina?  "Perhaps a bottle of red wine with your
dinner?"

Joan aggressively exhaled from the side of her mouth.  "I'll have a glass of
red wine and he'll have a Coke."

Tina nodded as she listened, committing their orders to memory.  "I can bring
you another ashtray," she said to Tad.  "Or you will you be sharing hers?"

Joan answered f or her son with an indignant tone.  "He doesn't smoke."  And
after Tina left with their order she added, "Thank God."

Tad lowered his eyes in shame.  It wasn't the first his mother had
embarrassed him this way.  Why did she always have to bring attention to his
youth?  Tonight of all nights, why couldn't she just pretend he was a man?

"What's wrong Honey?  Did you want a Sprite?  I can change the order when she
comes back?"

A deep sigh escaped his lungs as a cloud of thick smoke simultaneously
escaped hers.  "No mom.  It's not about the Coke.  It's about you always
treating me like a kid- and tonight of all nights."

Joan raised her cigarette in defiance and Tad cowered beneath it as he always
did.  In the flash of an eye she had gone from a sweet demure mother to a
dominating authority figure using her cigarette as a scepter.  "What?  Would
you have me bring you a bottle of wine and an ashtray?  You're 16 years old
Tad.  Tonight is not lost on me.  I realize this will be an adult experience
for you.  However, just because you're going to have sex like an adult
doesn't mean you can smoke and drink like an adult.  Is that what's bothering
you?  Do you feel like I'm treating you like a child because I'm watching out
for your health?"

Tad looked up from his place setting and fidgeted with a fork, trying hard
not to mouth the words that were playing in his head.  But his lips moved and
the words followed despite his resolve.

"Why are you so concerned with my health," he asked?  "You're certainly not
concerned with yours.  My God Mom!  Look at you.  You're smoking four packs
of cigarettes a day.  And you're worried about me having a cigarette at
dinner.  And what the hell-big deal is a glass of wine?  It's grape juice for
crying out loud."

Joan stubbed out her spent cigarette with a furor and lit another with no
help from her son.  "You wouldn't understand why I smoke so much and I'm not
about to explain it to you.  I don't understand it my se lf so why bother
trying to tell you.  Tonight was a mistake.  Let's just put an end to it
before it we do something we'll both regret.  We'll have dinner and then
we'll go home and tomorrow we'll tell Dr. Avery that we'll just have to find
another way to do this.  OK?"

"No mom.  It's not OK.  You may not want to hear this but I'm going to say it
anyway and you're going to listen.  I Love You Mom!  I love every thing about
you.  I love that you're the age you are.  I love that you smoke as much as
you do.  I think you're sexy as hell when I see you smoking.  And I don't
give a shit that it's killing you.  You don't think I understand.  Well I'm
here to tell you I do.  I may be 16 and I may be your son.  But the thought
of your decrepit tar covered lungs makes me want to come all over my self.  I
can smell the cancerous stench from your breath all the way across the table
and all I can think about is how good it would taste in my mouth.  So please
don't tell me I don't unders tand why you smoke!"

Every head in the restaurant stopped what it was doing and turned to focus on
the loud argument between the young boy and the older woman.  They were
witnessing a scene in progress and were drawn to it like moths to a fire. 

Joan closed her eyes and squeezed her thighs together under the table.  Her
panties were soaked.  Her breathing had become shallow.  She stubbed out her
cigarette and stood up.  There was no anger in her eyes.  No fury- only the
look of a woman whose lust needed to be quenched.

Tad pushed back his chair and stood, removing the wallet from his back
pocket.  He laid a 50-dollar bill on the table and followed his mother to the
exit.

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