“I’d tell you about mine, but that would be too much like talking shop,” said Helen.
“I know what you mean, Helen. I feel the same way.”
“I doubt it, Roberta,” said Helen, her voice very slightly slurred by the drink. “I’ll let you in on a secret, and you’ll know why I need my professional training to help me deal with matters at home.” There was a long pause before she went on. “My son is bonded to me more than is healthy for either of us.”
Roberta looked at Helen for a moment before speaking. “So is mine, Helen. So is mine.” Coincidence after coincidence, she thought.
“I may have had too much to drink, but I’m going to tell you this anyway,” said Helen. “Frank – that’s my son’s name – is far more, uh, far closer to me than my ex ever was. So I doubt that your home situation is anything like mine.”
“My situation may be very much like yours,” said Roberta. “Have you ever wanted to have sex with your son? I have.”
Helen stared wide-eyed at her new friend. “I’ve wanted that too. In fact …” Her voice trailed off as she thought better about finishing her thought.
“I know what you were going to say,” said Roberta. “I’ve slept with my son, too.”
“Oh my God,” said Helen softly. “And I thought I was the only one…”
“If I didn’t have to get up early to take part in a panel session tomorrow morning, I’d stay up with you and talk about this all night,” said Roberta. “I never thought I’d meet someone who understood these feelings the way I do.”
They traded business cards, after writing their home phone numbers and home email addresses on the back, and left the lounge to go to their rooms. Helen gave Roberta a warm hug and a kiss on the cheek as they parted for the night, and Roberta returned it.
“I’ll tell you another secret, Roberta,” whispered Helen. “I love what Frank and I do.”
“You didn’t have to tell me that, Helen,” whispered Roberta. “I already knew that. I’ve been there too, remember? I love what Jeffery and I do too.
They felt the kind of kinship that comes from unusual shared experience, and never again would they see themselves as being alone against an intolerant and unsympathetic world.
Roberta and Helen left the conference and headed for home the next afternoon, certain that they would have some contact with one another in the coming weeks. It was even possible that they might develop a longterm friendship, a friendship founded on that part of their lives which would have to remain their shared secret forever.
* * * * *
That contact started with an exchange of emails:
My Dear Roberta, You can’t imagine how much I appreciate what you did for me last week. You’ve given me a way to look at myself, and Frank, and the intimacy we share, with pride and confidence. Last night, as we lay in each other’s arms in the warm afterglow of good sex, I told him everything I know about you. He asked me what you look like and what you were wearing (you know how men like to reduce us to porn photos in their minds). I surprised myself by being able to describe you quite easily, and I rather naughtily left out none of the stimulating details I know he wanted to hear. Apparently that cute black number you were wearing and the lovely creature enticingly sheathed within it had an impact on me, and my description of it has now had quite an impact on my son. Frank even asked me if I’d tried to tongue kiss you when we said good night in the hotel elevator! Can you believe that? I was shocked by his question. But when I asked myself the same question I had no good answer for it. You are a gorgeous and sexually striking woman, Roberta, and I can understand Frank when he says that if he’d been in my position that night one of our beds would have been left unused. He’s a hunk, by the way, and a terrific bedmate. You’d love loving him as much as I do. If Frank had his way, I’d give you a chance to do just that. Don’t you just adore permanently horny young men? LOL. Love, Helen