She had worn the long black, ankle-length mourning dresses for so long that he had quite forgotten how very beautiful she had become in the four years...she had been with him. He could hardly take his eyes off of her. The thick blonde hair cascaded down her back and over her shoulders in soft ringlets, her bright green eyes still a little red from crying. Gone was the black dress, and in its place a tiny white skirt above calf-high white leather boots. A white translucent bra barely covered her. “I don’t know what to say to make it any better for you, son. I guess the thought of your old mum doing it doesn’t quite get your pulse racing.”She put the cup back down on its saucer, and then started drinking hers. Jason looked at his mother, not her face, but her legs that were angled towards him, knees together, nearest his face. She was wearing an old pair of jeans, faded and threadbare at the knees. In fact the left one was split quite badly and he was able to see her tanned knee beneath. More

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