Bed me in. I thought, does that mean more than it sounds, god I was getting carried away! Nevertheless, that phrase kept coming into my mind as the day for my ‘flight to destiny’ got nearer as did his parting remark on a phone call.
“Bring bikinis mum they suit you better than swimsuits.”
Of course, since agreeing to go and the day I travelled I could think of hardly anything else than what might happen. How the hell I would last living and sleeping in a flat alone with him for a week was beyond me?
However, since my fling with Jack that had gone on for the best part of six months and still reared its head when he came to London, my feelings for Peter had settled down. They were still there but more under control, maybe what I was doing with Jack overcame them I had speculated many times? Now, though they exploded into their full graphic glory again and time and time again I wondered if he felt the same and I speculated whether he was intending this to be more than holiday.
During the period leading up to the divorce he had been a great comfort to me and as that dragged on I felt we came near several times to ‘crossing the bridge’ between mother and son affection and family sex. We cuddled a lot, now and then he held my hand or put his arm round me and we seemed to hold each other’s gazes much longer. There seemed to me to be a closeness, more affection and, even, an intimacy that had not been there before. He became the man of the house and both Sara and I deferred to him. Some evenings, especially when I may have drunk too much, I imagined us tidying up after Sara had gone to bed, walking up the stairs together and both of us turning right at the top of the stairs rather than him taking the left leading to his room. But nothing overt happened and he went off to Dubai with me in tears.
We’d discussed the sort of clothes I should bring and, making my heart beat a little faster he had quipped with a laugh.
“Nothing too sexy mum and I’ll have to inspect you before we go out.”
I knew that at times they cracked down on too much female flesh on show and I realised what he meant so I was careful with the dresses I took for what I assumed would be evenings out shopping and dining. I packed several not too revealing bikinis and other casual stuff but could hardly believe that when it came to underwear I selected mostly AP and Janet Reger elegantly, sexy stuff; clearly lingerie to be undressed in I smiled thinking ‘chance would be a fine thing.’
I was a bag of nerves all the way on the seven-hour Emirates flight. Fortunately, I whizzed through immigration and my luggage was waiting so I was in the arrivals quite quickly. It was an amazing feeling to walk through the sliding doors and the first face I saw was my son’s. Fuck, did he look good in his white Polo shirt and khaki shorts. He took me in his arms and we kissed. Although mouth wise it was a mother and son kiss, as far as our bodies were concerned it was more than that. His arm that went around my back pulled me against him and as our lips pressed against the other’s cheek our bodies were squashed together from our chests to our toes. I barely managed to keep my lips from his and when we broke away the look in his eyes hinted that he felt the same.