“But it made me think of that movie and that's why I stopped you."

"Right because you liked it." He winked, "Then you came looking for your stockings." He sighed, “I played that wrong. In the movie the son took them, I should have done that and we would have had this talk then."

“This is stupid Paul, I did those movies because they paid more." “Then last night?" He beamed at me, “You let me unbutton your shirt." “Oh no." I said aloud.

“Then you took your damn skirt off in front of me."

“I was drunk." I said weakly.

“You were." He agreed, “And when people are drunk their real feelings show. You kissed me mom, right on the mouth and you kept kissing me."

“I was...drunk and lonely." I whispered.

"I had a weak moment Paul, I was messed up. You're right, I am sad and miss having someone. Those damn movies do get to me, but because of what they imply and maybe I wanted to prove them wrong and I did because you stopped kissing me."

On that note, I felt a glimmer of hope.

“If you really wanted me then why not last night? Why did you stop kissing me? Wasn't that your green light?"

“At first I thought it was." He replied, "I thought maybe you had gotten drunk on purpose to relax enough to be with me."

Be with him, he said it so casually!

“But then," He shook his head, "I thought if you had to get drunk to do it, did I really want it like that? I would have felt like I was taking advantage of you and I would never do that, so I did the right thing and let it go. I want you to be yourself when we're together."

“Paul, we're not going to be together. I don't want what you think I do." “That's not true, mom." He took my hands in his, holding them as he continued.

“I saw how much you wanted me in the Love Letter to my mom movie."

"It was a movie, hon." I looked down at my small delicate hands engulfed in his.

"Just acting, its all just acting."

“No, it wasn't." he said firmly, “You can't lie to me, mom. I saw it! The way you made love with that kid. The look on your face." He leaned closer to me, “You were thinking of me, I could see you were."

I had been, God help me I had been. Staring into his beautiful hazel eyes, I recalled the exact moment he had mentioned. The way Brian became Paul over me, in my arms and inside me, I'd thought of my own son as someone pretending to me my son made love to me. I'd come do the damn thought of it. My silence fueled Paul's conviction and squeezing my hands he smiled,

“You can't deny it, can you? I can see it in your eyes right now, mom, why keep fighting it?" “Because it's not true."

Even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice. For weeks I'd been questioning why I was so good at those movies. Others had seen it and remarked on it, everyone from Brad to Dan, to Malcolm to all the viewers who really had mother fetishes.

That damn scene with Brian, Dan had said intense and that was putting it mildly, the raw emotion I'd felt, the passion, the love? But that love wasn't directed at Brian, I knew that, but was it really to Paul?

“I love you, mom." Paul whispered, leaning closer to me, “Not just as a son, but as a man

“You're not a man," I said softly as he let my hands go, and put his on my shoulders.

“You're my son, my baby."