As we were finishing our meals, Paul said, “Look who just came in.”
I turned to see it was Hugh Grant. Notting Hill is my favourite movie and Hugh Grant one of my favourite actors…his accent always turns me on. “Oh my God, oh my God,” I repeated, like a giddy teenager seeing Justin Bieber.
“Want to meet him?” Paul asked.
“How?” I said, as Hugh Grant sat down at a table directly across from us.
“I’ll ask him?” he shrugged, standing up. “Although I will refer to you as my Mom and not my date for this brief exchange.”
“Yes, son,” I nodded, not able to believe how confident he had become; only just yesterday, he had been my shy reserved son. I wondered if his fucking me had created a new confidence in him, or if I just had been oblivious to this.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, walking directly to the table where Hugh Grant was with a pretty younger woman. Again, the exact opposite May-December relationship than the one my son and I now had.
I watched in awe as my son began talking with Hugh Grant. After a minute, Hugh Grant nodded, stood up and walked over to me. My cunt instantly dampened even before he was in front of me.
Reaching me, Hugh Grant extended his hand and said, his accent making my panties dampen even more, “Hi, it’s nice to meet you, Courtney.”
I stammered, “It-it-it’s nice to meet you too,” feeling like a high school girl again.
“Your son here tells me he is taking you out on the town tonight to celebrate all you have done for him,” he said.
Instantly, a naughty thought of all that I had done for him yesterday popped into my head. Yet, I said, “I have a very good son.”
“Stand up Mom, I’ll take a picture of you two,” Paul offered.
“Oh, okay,” I nodded, so star-struck that I really wasn’t processing at normal speed. I stood up and almost stumbled, my legs feeling like jelly. Hugh Grant caught me, wrapped his arm around me and posed for the photo.
Paul took a couple photos and Hugh Grant then said, “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
The way he said pleasure made me want to give him pleasure, but I smiled and said, getting slightly flirty, “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”
“Have a great night,” he smiled, kissed me on the cheek and returned to his table.
The whole interaction between Hugh Grant and I didn’t even last two minutes, yet it felt like time stood still. I sat back down and said, “Thank you so much.”
Mocking me, he replied, “Oh, the pleasure was all mine.”
“Brat,” I shot back.
He handed me the phone and I looked at the photo. It was amazingly perfect. This night was amazingly perfect. My son was amazingly perfect.
“Shoot, we need to get going,” he said, looking at his watch.
“Why?” I asked, handing him his phone back.
“Our next stop starts in half an hour,” he said, waving the waitress over.
“Where?” I asked, apparently sticking to one word answers.
“For me to know,” he began.
“And me to find out. Yeah, yeah,” I sighed, “not a big fan of this side of your father.”
“What side are you a fan of?” He said, his tone seductive.
“Almost everything else,” I countered, implying the obvious, just as the waitress arrived.