How I Fucked My Roommate's Mom Pt. 02

Author's note: Part 2 of 5 is here! The story heats up quite a bit in this chapter and will offer a good idea of how the rest of the series will play out. As I've mentioned elsewhere, sometimes I write stories with a bit of sex, and sometimes I write sex with a bit of story. How I Fucked My Roommate's Mom falls into the second category... but even then, I've done my best to give the sex the depth it deserves.

Happy reading.

And the usual disclaimers: all characters are fictional, similarities to real-world people/events are purely coincidental, everyone involved is of legal consenting age, etc.

***

I woke feeling like death. Head pounding, mouth burning with foulness. At first, I couldn't place where I was. But then the events of last night came crashing home.

I'd gone to a party with Kal. Started drinking. Talked. Laughed. Kept drinking. Kissed Randa. Drank some more. Left. Walked back to Kal's. Open window shade where I saw...

Kal's mom. Mrs. Southard.

My god.

I'd been interested in Mrs. Southard simply because she was the ultimate forbidden older woman: her age, her religious convictions, and her disdain for my promiscuous lifestyle all qualities that put her firmly out of my reach... so, of course I felt compelled to charm my way into her pants. Er, well, robes.

But then I'd seen her naked. Whatever I'd expected her to look like paled in comparison to the real thing. Curves for days. Flawless skin. Shapely legs. She was a pornstar. She was a goddess. She was a cruel joke that the universe played on me, the ultimate MILF who seemed destined to remain nothing more than a tease.

The worst part was that because she was my best friend's mom, I couldn't even distract myself long enough to move on from her. She'd always be around for as long as Kal was. Either in-person or by association. I'd done well to fixate on Randa instead for a time, but now that Mrs. Southard had revealed herself in glory, I was pulled back in.

She saw me.

The delayed memory was like gasoline for my burning lust.

Fuck! She SAW me.

If last night had been a porno, Mrs. Southard would have crept into my room, acknowledged that I'd seen her fucking Mr. Southard. Been so desperate for my silence--'please don't tell Kal!'-she would have done ANYTHING for me to keep it to myself. Cut to her sucking me off, letting me take her doggystyle, then me cumming across her tits while she stared at me wide-eyed and tongue-out.

Unfortunately, this wasn't a porno.

But that didn't mean I couldn't make it one. The question was, how?

The obvious first step was to get Mrs. Southard alone and talk to her about last night. Let her know I really liked what I saw. Make the casual comment that it didn't seem like Mr. Southard appreciated what she had to offer. And then, I'd make my move:

"You know, Mrs. Southard, if you wanted to be with a guy who'd show you the attention you deserve, I'd be happy to lend a hand. I mean, I'm best friends with Kal. What kind of roommate would I be if I didn't help? And it doesn't have to mean anything. Nobody else has to know."

It was a simple plan, but plans didn't have to be complicated. The girls I'd been with before preferred directness. Well, most of them, anyway.

I just needed my throbbing head to get better first.

Not wanting to be the first one up in another family's house, I texted Kal that I was awake and laid there until I got his response.

(( Dude, glad to know you're still alive. The way you were tossing back shots before I left, I was like, well, fuck, there goes what's left of his brain. I've had a hard enough time keeping him in school as it is. ))

I groaned softly, then texted back.

Don't celebrate too early. The way I'm feeling right now, if someone chopped my head off, it would be an improvement.

(( I tell people I don't drink because I'm Muslim, but the truth is I don't drink because I hate mornings enough already. Speaking of which... hope you're ready for hours of painting! ))

"Fuck me," I whispered, collapsing back in bed.

I considered falling asleep again, pretending I had the flu. But like the mindreader he was, Kal sent a follow up text:

(( And don't even think about saying that you're sick. You committed, so you're doing it. Even if I have to drag you out myself. ))

Goddamn it.

***

I felt a bit better after breakfast and coffee. Or, as Mrs. Southard would say, breakfast and qahwa.

Despite Mrs. Southard's joining the rest of us for breakfast, it was rather anticlimactic. There were no signs to reveal her feelings towards me. No smiles. No winks. No flirting. Hell, she didn't even show the opposite signs with downcast eyes or shamed expressions. I couldn't help but wonder: did she not realize it was me who'd been outside her window? Had I just been a shadow to her?

And if she hadn't recognized me, did that make my seduction easier or harder?

Regardless, I didn't get a chance to approach her before we began painting.

Painting itself wasn't as terrible as I was afraid it might be. My hangover still lingered, but it was manageable with the caffeine I had running through my system. Joking with Kal helped too, as did my closeness to Mrs. Southard. She served as our on-site forewoman, explaining her vision and preferred methods, before turning us loose.

The opportunity I'd been waiting for arrived as we finished up with the living room. Kal went outside to wash the brushes out, giving me a few minutes alone with Mrs. Southard.

Heart racing, I dove in.

"Sorry if I scared you last night. Outside your window, I mean."

Mrs. Southard, busy pulling painter's tape from the walls, continued working with the same focus as if I'd commented on the weather.

Unsure if she'd heard me, I continued. "I promise I wasn't trying to spy on you or anything. I... I'd just gone for a walk outside because I couldn't sleep and well... I saw the light on and couldn't resist."

With a sigh, Mrs. Southard paused her work and faced me.

"You shouldn't have been looking, Ethan."

Her words were scolding, but all I heard was confirmation that she'd known it was me after all.

I pressed further.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Southard. It was just a quick glance at first. But when I saw you? I couldn't look away. You're the hottest woman I've ever seen. I was hypnotized. Honestly, I still kinda am."

Mrs. Southard frowned. "You shame both of us. With your actions last night and with your words now. I've got half a mind to make you tell Kal what you said to me when he gets back. Make you apologize to him. And me too."

Shit. Fuck. This wasn't how this was supposed to go.

I quickly backtracked. "Like I said, I'm sorry. Please don't say anything to Kal. I know I crossed a line. Am still crossing a line, probably. You just don't know how hard it is to be around you and not tell you how I feel."

"Well, now you've said something, so you can stop," she said, crumbling the tape into a giant ball.

Defeated, for now at least, I decided to let it go. But I did have one last question.

"Did you tell Mr. Southard you saw me?"

Mrs. Southard was quiet for a moment.

"No," she sighed. "I just told him there was an animal outside and it scared me. And if you want me to stick to that story, you better behave."

And so, I did.

***

Once we finished painting, Kal and I spent the rest of the day hanging out. Around lunchtime I finally started feeling like myself again--swearing I would never touch a sip of alcohol for the rest of my life--but then I received a text that gave me a new headache.

It was from Randa.

(( Hey. Some party last night, huh? ))

Kal, spotting the message before I could stop him, hummed mischievously.

"Oooh, is that Randa? 'Some party'? What does THAT mean, bro? You two get a little... friendly... last night?"

I flipped him off, then shrugged.

"I knew it!" Kal gloated. "Good for you. But listen, you fuck this up and make my lab awkward, I'm kicking you out of our dorm room."

I grimaced. "Well..."

I explained how right after I'd kissed Randa, she left and I didn't see her the rest of the night.

Kal understood my dilemma right away. "Ah, so you're not sure what to do now. Do you bring up the kiss or pretend like it never happened."

He was right. But he also had advice on how to solve it.

"Whenever I'm trying to decide what to do, I just ask myself one easy question: what choice would make me not a loser? Now, in your case, you might be screwed no matter what just because of who you are, but maybe one of those choices would make you only fifty-percent-loser?"

I laughed and rolled my eyes. "Oh, fuck you, bro."

But Kal had a point. I knew what I needed to do.

Inspired, I sent my reply to Randa:

A little too much of a party, maybe. But listen, about that kiss. Sorry if I came on too strong. I was just having a lot of fun and I think you're great and I got carried away. I don't want there to be anything awkward between us. Besides, Kal would kill me if I made things weird with you at his lab.

A few minutes later, she responded, flipping my world upside down:

(( Nah, everything's cool. You were just so drunk that I couldn't be sure how much of the kiss was you and how much was the alcohol. You can tell Kal it's all good. But I think you're kinda cool too. For a freshman, anyway. If you ever want to hang out without alcohol, maybe we could have fun again? ))

Kal--peeking at my screen like a little bitch--howled triumphantly, then began to pump his fists in the air, chanting 'Ethan! Ethan! Ethan!'.

"Dude, fuck off. Stop reading my messages," I said, but without any weight behind my words.

Between my X-rated glimpse of Mrs. Southard and Randa still showing interest in me, I'd gotten whiplash going back and forth between these two women. It wasn't a bad problem to have, but it was a bit exhausting.

Or maybe that was just the post-hangover exhaustion talking.

I messaged Randa once more:

I'll see what I can think up. I'm helping Kal do some work around his house today, but once I get back on campus, I'll reach back out.

I then added aloud: "And maybe once I'm back on campus, I'll stop having a fucking creep reading over my shoulder every time I message someone."

"Wait, we have a creep here?" Kal asked from behind me with heavy concern.

***

Unfortunately, there weren't any more exciting moments with Mrs. Southard that visit. If I didn't have Randa to look forward to, I would have gone crazy with frustration and blue balls. But my mind had already moved on, brainstorming the perfect activity for Randa and me to do once I'd returned. I knew it was likely uncool of me to suggest a meetup so soon--desperate, anyone?--but I didn't want to wait until next week to redeem myself from the party's awkwardness. I had something to prove.

It was lame, but having nothing better to do, I suggested coffee at the same near-campus spot that I'd met with Mrs. Southard. Sunday morning before it got busy.

But if Randa thought my choice was lame, she hid it well: (( Works for me, I'll see you there. Oh, and tell Kal I said that if you screw this up, I'm sabotaging his lab grades. ))

When Kal and I went to bed that night, back in our dorm room, I passed on Randa's message.

I expected a laugh, but instead his face fell into the saddest frown I'd ever seen.

"Well, shit. I'm definitely failing then. You think I can still get into med school if I don't pass Gen Chem?"

I snorted. "Oh, don't even go there. I'm gonna give Randa her the best date of her life, and you know it."

***

The coffee date went surprisingly well. I learned a lot about Randa: she'd moved to the United States when she was very young. She was technically Muslim, but her family's dedication to their faith was more casual than committed. She loved being in the outdoors. Hiking, kayaking, camping, and so on. Her favorite childhood memory was going to see the sequoias of California; she shared a very cute picture of her as a kid staring up at the giant trees with awestruck wonder.

She asked questions about me too. What hobbies did I have ('I've dabbled in a bit of everything'). How was it that Kal and I became so close ('He's an asshole, but turns out I love assholes'). What did I want to do after I graduated ('I'll be honest, I have no idea').

By the time we left, I realized that I'd become quite attached to little-miss-Randa.

Kal, of course, noticed this attachment immediately.

"Shoot, I'm gonna have to start working on my best-man speech now. Homework's just gonna have to wait."

I shook my head. "Bro, we've been on one date."

"Hey, when it's real, it's real. Which, side note, whenever you two have kids, I think you should name your son after me."

I frowned. "I'm not sure 'Mega-Loser-Kal' works well as a first name."

Kal shrugged. "I'll accept it as a middle name too."

***

The semester proceeded quickly. I did okay in my classes. Nothing stellar... but I wasn't at risk of failing anything either. Randa and I began chatting quite a bit too, but our connection remained casual. Even after going on a couple more coffee dates there wasn't any talk of what we were. Were we just friends? Were we dating? Were we looking to become boyfriend and girlfriend?

I'd never been interested in a woman in the same way that I was interested in Randa. While I was plenty comfortable chatting up a woman to get into her pants, when it came to something beyond just sex, I found myself at a loss.

And so, I simply kept enjoying my time with her, even though I wasn't sure what to do beyond enjoy it.

Of course, when I was alone with Kal, I leaned into the idea that Randa and I were already making plans to get married.

"You better block off your calendar this summer. I'm thinking we'll have our wedding in June."

Kal laughed but then turned serious. "I don't mean to break your heart or anything, but I'm applying to study abroad this summer. Gonna travel and knock out some extra courses before my schedule gets swamped. There's a 2-month program in England I'm looking at."

Kal's announcement pushed all thoughts of joking about my Randa-wedding out of my mind.

"Which one? Maybe I could go too. That might be fun right? The two of us in England, causing chaos and fucking shit up? Throw water balloons at those royal guards who wear the funny hats."

I expected Kal to return my banter, but instead he inhaled sharply through his teeth.

"So, it's a pretty competitive program. You need at least a 3.0 to be accepted. And since we'll just have our Fall semester grades to count towards it, that means you need to be hitting a B-average..."

At last, I understood Kal's hesitation. I was not hitting a B-average.

Kal continued. "But, hey, let me do some looking. Maybe there's another program we could both do instead. Or maybe I can switch some things around and do the England program the summer after our sophomore year. That'll give you an extra year to work on your grades, and maybe..."

I cut him off. "No. Don't do that. You've got your entire college career planned out. I'm not gonna ask you to move things around just for me. Besides, England's dumb as shit anyway. Nobody really wants to go there. I'll just be living my dream summer here in the U. S."

Kal chuckled, but I could tell it was forced. "Well, try not to rub it in too much when you're having all your adventures while I'm stuck in class."

"Oh, rubbing it in is all I'm gonna do," I shot back, but my heart wasn't in it.

It was funny. A few months ago, I didn't even know Kal, but now the thought of going the next summer without him was legitimately depressing.

At least I'd have Randa to keep me distracted.

***

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry!" Randa apologized, setting down her coffee. "I'm going with my parents to visit my grandparents in Jordan this summer."

But then she looked at me slyly. "But I'm surprised to hear you thinking about plans with me that far out. I didn't take you as the long-term planning type."

"Kal's gonna be studying abroad," I explained. "Figured I'd need something to keep me busy while he's off having fun in England. But now you're telling me you're gonna be gone too?"

Randa, frowning, ignored my question. "So, is that all I am to you? Something to keep you busy?"

Shit.

"No, that's not what I meant," I quickly backtracked. "I just meant that I'm gonna have all this free time, and I thought maybe we could hang out some."

"You realize that doesn't sound much better, right?" Randa said with eyebrow raised, although in a playful undertone. "Comes off pretty close to 'I guess I don't have anything better to do, so can I hang out with you?'."

"Fuck, that's not what I meant either," I said, scrambling to fix the conversation. "Look. I like you, Randa. I think you're really cool. But I've never done something like this before. I don't know what I'm doing here."

Randa's expression softened. Then she cracked a smile, "Well, that much is obvious."

"What can I say? I am just a freshman after all," I shrugged back.

"Well, then, Mr. Freshman, let me make it easy for you," Randa said, leaning in close. "What do you want this to be between us? Are we just a couple of college kids going out for coffee and catching up?"

I looked down, suddenly nervous, before finding the courage to meet Randa's eyes again. "I mean, I'd like to think these have been dates. You're not in the habit of getting coffee regularly with other guys are you?"

Randa smiled. "Sounds like someone might be a bit jealous. But I'll tell you what. You want me to keep getting coffee with you and nobody else? I can do that. But I expect the same from you too. Is that a deal?"

"Yeah, I can do that," I agreed. "Although I think maybe if we're gonna keep doing this, we should change it up from just coffee. Maybe you could visit me at the dorm. Or I can visit you at your apartment."

"Maybe. We'll see," Randa smiled. "But just so you know, my parents don't want me 'dating' in college. So, if anyone asks, that's not what this is. But coffee hangouts with a study buddy? I think they'd be fine with that."

"I think I can do that," I smiled back. "Although if nothing else, we're gonna have to find a different way to do this. My bank account's gonna get pretty dry if we keep going out every couple days."

Randa laughed. "I'll help you come up with some alternatives."

***

Before Randa and I could enjoy her alternatives, though, fall break arrived. Randa left campus to visit her parents; Kal did the same.

But Kal lived much closer than Randa did, and so I spent much of break away from the dorm hanging out with him at home. I probably would have just spent the entire break with him, but unfortunately, that wasn't an option. Kal's parents were fine with me visiting occasionally, but they weren't prepared to have someone stay with them the entire week.

It was annoying, but I understood. So, instead, Kal and I spent most of our time hanging out other places.

But one morning, I realized I'd left my laptop at his house after hanging out with him the day before. I messaged him to coordinate its retrieval.

Hey, I left my laptop at your place. Can I swing by to pick that up? I had a project I was planning on working on today.

(( Yeah, that's fine. Dad and I are about to leave to play frisbee golf though. I'll leave the back door unlocked for you. I'll warn Mom you're swinging by. ))

A month earlier, this would have been a dream scenario. A chance to be with Mrs. Southard alone at her house? But truth was that it had been weeks since I'd seen her naked, and after it went nowhere else, I'd mentally moved on to other things... including Randa.

And so, when I drove to Kal's house, I truly hadn't planned on doing anything other than picking up my laptop.

But just because my attraction to Mrs. Southard had fallen into hibernation didn't mean it was gone entirely.

When I entered through the back of Kal's house, I heard a sound I couldn't place: almost like a muffled, recurring laugh, coming from the kitchen. Curious, I approached and peeked around the corner.

The source of the strange sound revealed itself: it was Mrs. Southard. She looked like she was crying.

Not knowing what to do, my first instinct was to turn around and sneak away. But then something urged me forward.

"Hey, Mrs. Southard, are you okay?"

At the sound of my voice, her head shot up towards me. Eyes wet and wide with surprise. She hadn't heard me approach. But now that she'd spotted me, she quickly wiped her eyes and put on a brave face.

"Sorry, I didn't realize you would be here so soon," she said. "Yes, I am fine. Everything's fine. Thanks for asking."

I may have been a dumb college kid, but even I could tell this was a lie.

"I'm sorry, but I don't believe you," I replied with a gentle laugh, trying to keep the mood light.

It worked. Mrs. Southard laughed weakly back.

"Ugh. If even you can tell I'm not okay, I must be worse than I thought. It's just..."

Mrs. Southard sighed and took a moment to gather her thoughts. "Look. You're still young. I know it may be hard to believe, but I was young once too. Just a girl living in Muscat who didn't know anything about the world. But then that girl fell for a handsome American man, and she gave up everything to be with him. Everyone wants to live in a folktale, but nobody talks about what happens after the girl gets the prince. Well, I guess my parents did, but I was too stubborn to listen to them."

"Happily ever after, right?" I offered helpfully.

Mrs. Southard laughed again, but she didn't seem amused. "Yes. Yes, I guess so."

She didn't say anything else. I shifted uncomfortably, unsure what to do next.

Shaking herself back to attention, Mrs. Southard seemed surprised to see me still standing with her. "Sorry, I'm just rambling to myself. Did you need something from me? Or were you just here for the laptop?"

"I... uh... no, just the laptop," I confirmed. "But you don't have to apologize, Mrs. Southard. I like seeing this side of you. Better than the one that's always fussing at me for my behavior, anyway."

Mrs. Southard laughed again, a real laugh this time. "Well, maybe if you stopped misbehaving, I wouldn't have to fuss so much. You're clearly more than my son can handle on his own, so of course I'm gonna step in and help him out."

I grinned. The thought of me being too much for Kal to handle was hilarious. I made a mental note to tease him about it later.

"Kal's a good guy. Like actually a good guy. Honestly, probably a better friend than I deserve," I admitted. "And I know it may not mean much coming from someone like me, but I think you should be proud of how you raised him."

Mrs. Southard's expression flickered. "Thanks, Ethan. That actually means a lot. More than you know. There are days I wake up and think how much I miss Oman, how maybe I should have just stayed there. But then I think about Kal and how well he's doing. How happy he is. And I think that maybe this is where I should be after all. Even if I do get lonely sometimes."

Mrs. Southard offered her last line off-handedly, but it caught my attention like red to a bull.

"Would a hug help you feel better?" I asked, extending my arms outward.

To my surprise, Mrs. Southard held out her own arms, accepting my offer. I stepped forward immediately, afraid she'd reconsider if I dawdled.

The hug we exchanged was perfectly appropriate... but the way I reacted to it was not. As our bodies pressed together, I savored the sensation of her frame against mine, the softness of her robes, the fullness of her chest... If I had my way, I would never have let go. Not until I'd memorized every detail of the moment.

But as if sensing my impure thoughts, Mrs. Southard pushed me away and shook her head, mouth pulled back in a half-smile.

"And if there needed to be further proof of how lonely I am, I'm resorting to getting hugs from my son's roommate."

I barely heard Mrs. Southard's words. I was still fixated on her face and the memory of our bodies smashed together. We'd separated from our hug, but before I realized what I was doing, I'd closed the distance again, reaching for her veiled head, hoping to pull her face against mine, and then we would...

"Ethan, what are you doing?" Mrs. Southard said, pulling away from me. Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

Shit.

"Oh, sorry," I stammered. "I just thought that we... I mean, you..."

Mrs. Southard exclaimed something I didn't quite understand but sounded like 'bill la, a lake'. The expression on her face, though, was very clear: she was not happy.

But just as I'd braced myself for a blowup, Mrs. Southard suddenly laughed and deflated.

"It's what I get. I should have known better than to let myself vent to a kid in college who's only interested in one thing. You should get your laptop and leave, Ethan."

On the one hand, I was grateful to not be chewed out, but on the other hand, I didn't appreciate how Mrs. Southard made me sound so... simpleminded.

"Okay," I replied. "I'll head out. But just so you know, Mrs. Southard, I am interested in more than one thing. Yes, I think you're beautiful. Yes, I can't seem to help myself around you. But I'm a person just like you are. Just because I'm not someone who left their home country to live somewhere else doesn't mean I haven't had struggles too. I thought maybe we could help each other feel better."

Mrs. Southard gave me a half-smile, I think without even realizing she'd done it. But then she turned serious again.

"It's not your job to make me feel better, Ethan. Now, go. Go enjoy your young life. It'll be behind you before you know it. Don't let it waste away."

Sighing, I turned to leave, but I was unable to resist one last response. "Any time spent with you isn't a waste, Mrs. Southard."

And before she could chastise me further, I grabbed my laptop and left.

***

As charged as my encounter with Mrs. Southard had been, it quickly faded from my memory. I had no real interactions with her the rest of the semester, just a few quick run-ins here and there.

It didn't feel like a loss, though. Randa and I began seeing each other quite frequently over the following weeks. Not dating, that was a big no-no. But getting coffee together. Studying together. Listening to music together. Never in private, always in public, but I found myself growing quite attached to the upperclass(wo)man from Jordan. And she seemed equally interested in me.

I did learn that while Randa's parents were rather open-minded in some ways, in other ways, they were very traditional. Besides disapproving of Randa dating, they also wanted her to marry someone who shared similar cultural values. And if not someone Arabic, at least someone Muslim.

I, of course, was neither of those things.

Once, I asked Randa why she continued to have her non-dating hangouts with me if I wasn't someone her parents would approve of, but Randa just played coy:

"I think if I ever found the right man, my parents might change their minds about the whole must-be-Muslim thing. Or maybe Mr. Right would change his mind about not being Muslim. But unless you're wanting to marry me, Ethan, I'm not sure you have anything to worry about either way."

Not wanting to push further, I'd just replied with, "That makes sense, I guess. But if you keep motivating me to study with our hangouts, I might have to marry you after all--at least until I graduate. Then we can divorce, and you can find your dream Arab Muslim man afterwards."

"Well, if I ever find him, you'll be the first to know," Randa smiled back.

While I was vaguely uncomfortable with our potential incompatibility, our day-to-day lives were so pleasant, I was happy to just enjoy what we had. It was weird--Randa and I weren't romantic, exactly. No kissing, no 'hey beautiful' texts. But still... I liked spending time with her. A lot. She was like a best friend that I just happened to also be attracted to.

Whatever Randa and I were to each other, though, we had to pause it over winter break. While I stayed on campus, she returned home to visit with her family.

But in her absence, Kal stepped up. We hung out quite a bit, at least when he wasn't busy with his family. And even sometimes when he was, I got invited along too. I jointed them for a lunch. A dinner. And almost--a round of frisbee golf.

I thought frisbee golf sounded dumb as hell--it was like taking putt-putt golf and somehow making it lamer--but for Kal's sake, I agreed to go with him and his dad. I spent the night at the Southards, with plans to hit the course after breakfast--Mr. Southard was insistent on arriving early--but after tossing back one too many energy drinks during the day, I found myself utterly unable to fall asleep that night.

At around 3 in the morning, I finally texted Kal that I wasn't gonna make it to frisbee golf... and he should go on without me. I apologized for being a lame-ass friend but there was no way I was gonna be up before 9am at the earliest.

Finally, I passed out.

***

When I woke in the morning it was almost ten. Kal and his dad were long gone. Fortunately, Kal didn't take my absence personally. Well, not too personally:

(( Look, dude, I get it. I'd be afraid to be emasculated playing against me too. No shame in backing out. Well, maybe some shame. It does make you kind of a little bitch. ))

(( (Seriously, sorry about your rough night and don't worry about it. I'll emasculate you another time. But maybe lay off the energy drinks for a bit?) ))

I climbed out of bed, got dressed, then went searching for breakfast.

But rather than something to eat, I instead found Mrs. Southard in the kitchen.

"Ethan? What are you still doing here?" she asked, clearly surprised by my presence.

"I... I may have had too many energy drinks yesterday. Couldn't fall asleep until after three. I told Kal to go on without me."

Mrs. Southard studied me, apparently weighing some internal decision. "Well, okay. Are you gonna follow up after him now?"

"Honestly, I think frisbee golf might be too exciting for me. If you don't mind, I'd rather just hang out here."

Mrs. Southard narrowed her eyes at me, but then she shrugged. "Okay, that's fine. I'll warn you, though, we probably don't have anything exciting to do around the house until they get back. Although if you really wanted, I could probably find another room for you to paint."

For a moment, I was too stunned to speak. "Did... did you just make a joke?"

A quick smile passed across Mrs. Southard's face before disappearing. "What, you don't think a woman my age can be funny? Or is it that you don't think Muslims can be funny?"

Again, my words failed me. But Mrs. Southard continued to stare at me with such seriousness that I felt I had to say something.

"I, uh... I mean Kal's Muslim? And he's pretty funny."

"Where do you think he gets it from?" Mrs. Southard asked, again with complete seriousness. But when she saw that I was still off-balance, she finally took mercy on me.

"Ethan, you can laugh. I'm just messing with you."

I forced out a chuckle.

At last, Mrs. Southard smiled. "You know, I like seeing you like this. It's a nice change of pace. I'm the one making you uncomfortable instead of the other way around."

"You're welcome?" I said, still off-balance.

Mrs. Southard smiled wider. "And because I'm in a good mood, I'll even give you some advice. I think if you tone down your 'I'm so horny all the time' attitude and get to know a girl first, you might be surprised to find that making a real connection is better than some temporary pleasure."

"But what if I want both?" I asked, frowning. "Is that wrong?"

"No," Mrs. Southard acknowledged. "But it'll make your life a lot easier to find pleasure after a real connection than a real connection after temporary pleasure."

I had to admit... Mrs. Southard might have been onto something. I thought about Randa and why she seemed different than the girls I'd hooked up with in the past.

But then a question occurred to me. "How do I know what's a real connection verses something not real?"

"That's the trick. Real connections aren't just things that exist. That you get lucky one day and run across. They have to be developed. Maintained. Even if you find a spark with someone, that connection will die off just like any other if you don't take care of it. Honestly, I think that's one thing that Oman does better than America. There is no 'dating' in Oman. Everything is geared towards marriage. And it's not just between the couple. Their parents and families get involved too."

"That sounds messy," I said.

"It actually works better that way, I think. You'd be surprised how not-messy it is. If anything, the dating and hookup culture here in America is what's messy. And I think even you would have to admit that."

I shrugged. I didn't think it was messy at all, but I wasn't looking to argue. But there was something about Mrs. Southard's commentary that stood out to me.

"How did that work out with you and Mr. Southard? Did his parents talk with your parents?"

Mrs. Southard didn't reply immediately, apparently wrestling with a response. But finally, she spoke.

"I did not do what my parents wanted. They thought I should marry a nice Omani man, not a foreigner who was only in Oman for work. Randy did his best to convince them, even converting to Islam to prove the sincerity of his interest in me. Even then they still were going to say no, but after much arguing, they finally agreed. But only under the condition that Randy moved to Oman."

"But you're not in Oman," I said, pointing out the obvious.

Mrs. Southard chuckled. "No. No, I'm not. Now, I love Oman. It's a beautiful country. Safe. Peaceful. It's got a rich history. But America offers a lot more opportunities. Better education and jobs. Did you know that before I had Kal, I worked with designing semi-conductors?"

"Oh, so you're not just funny like Kal, you're smart like Kal too," I said with authentic awe.

"It's not medicine, but it is complicated," Mrs. Southard agreed. "But to finish answering your question, I told my parents that I wanted to go to America. And even if they refused to let me marry Randy, I was going to go anyway. But if they gave their blessing with Randy, they could have more confidence that I would live a halal life here in America. In some ways, he was a better Muslim than me."

"Halal?"

"It means 'allowed'. So, a halal life means living like a good Muslim. When I was younger, I did lots of haram--bad things--and so my promise to be better meant a lot to my parents. And Randy was very good at living a halal life, to the point even my parents were impressed. And so, at last they agreed that it would be okay for me to move to America with Randy after we married in Oman. They didn't love the idea, but they allowed it."

"And now you're here in America living happily ever after."

Mrs. Southard made an expression I couldn't read, then replied. "Yes, I guess you could say that. I do miss Oman. And it's hard being Muslim here, especially as an Ibadi Muslim. To be honest, despite my promises to my parents, I didn't really start being a good one until I got pregnant with Kal."

"And now here you are with Kal's roommate, who's trying to make you do all kinds of bad stuff," I teased, unable to resist.

But despite my wildly inappropriate words, I wasn't trying to make a move on Mrs. Southard, I just enjoyed goading her. And it seemed she could sense it, because rather than scold me, she laughed.

"Ethan, you're still a teenager. You don't have any idea what bad stuff even is. Trust me, one of these days, you're gonna tease the wrong woman and she's gonna show you a whole new world. You have no idea, sahbi."

And just like that, my desire for innocent fun was replaced by something less-than-innocent.

"That almost sounds like a threat," I said with a grin. "So, are you gonna be the one to show me a whole new world?"

But again, I'd overstepped. Mrs. Southard raised a disapproving eyebrow.

"Sorry. But it's like I said, even when I try to be good around you, I can't help myself," I said apologetically.

"Don't worry, we'll work on that," Mrs. Southard reassured me, her sternness thankfully fading away. "You just need a little more discipline. And you can start by helping me fold some linens."

I groaned loudly, but it was all for show. I followed her obediently.

***

Unfortunately, Mrs. Southard's plan to instill discipline in me backfired immensely. Folding linens sucked, but folding linens with Mrs. Southard? It was the closest we'd ever been to each other. Even more so than when I helped her paint, since Kal and I took care of most the actual painting.

Even though I'd just been chastised a few minutes earlier for being inappropriate with Mrs. Southard, I couldn't stop staring at her. Her robes prevented me from seeing anything other than her face, but now that I knew what she was hiding, my imagination easily filled in the rest. I knew that the longer my gaze lingered on Mrs. Southard, the more trouble I invited, but I couldn't help myself. Knowing that only a few layers of clothes kept her ungodly--haram?--curves out of my sight.

But this time, when Mrs. Southard finally noticed my stare, she didn't get upset. Instead, she smiled slightly and continued folding clothes without a word.

Was she enjoying my attention?

My heart began to race.

It couldn't be possible... could it?

I folded my last set of towels, looking around for more work. Never in my life had I been so disappointed to have finished a stack of laundry.

Mrs. Southard noticed my dilemma.

"Don't worry, you're not done yet. We still have these sheets to take care of. Here, you grab one side and I'll take the other."

Following her directions, I pulled a sheet from the pile and passed over one side. We did the usual folding motions, but when it came time for me to bring my side to hers, our fingers grazed. The jolt of electricity I felt as we touched was so intense I felt like I'd just been tasered.

But before I could even fully register the moment, Mrs. Southard had finished with the first sheet and was moving onto the second. She passed an end to me. Somehow, I managed to take it. Corner to corner. Flip. Corner to corner. Then bringing my side to Mrs. Southard's again.

But this time, as I walked within a hairsbreadth of Mrs. Southard's frame, I couldn't keep my eyes off her face. And then, as the distance between us dwindled to nothing, Mrs. Southard looked up at me, meeting my gaze. Her eyes seemed to be searching mine, questioning, maybe even... curious. To this day, I don't know if she realized she was doing it.

In that moment, despite all the times I'd been burned by my urges towards her, I felt myself drawn inward. I leaned forward, closer and closer. Close enough to make out all the fine details on her face: the slight wrinkle lines, the stray strands of hair that had slipped out from under her headscarf, the rich brown pools of her eyes. All my senses fixated on Mrs. Southard; the rest of the world vanished into irrelevance.

And still further I went. My head began to tilt, yet still she did not stop me. My eyes began to close, and there was no word of objection. I felt her breath against my face, but still, she did not pull back.

Then, at last, my lips found hers.

It was happening. I was kissing Mrs. Southard.

The room seemed to fall silent. The only sound that registered in my ears was my own pounding heartbeat. I held my position, my body screaming at me to keep going but my brain terrified that the slightest move would shake Mrs. Southard out of her trance.

But when Mrs. Southard continued to just stand there, frozen and without protest, my arousal finally overpowered my caution.

I pursed my lips and kissed her again... and this time, she kissed back.

It was soft and hesitant, as if Mrs. Southard was unsure of herself, but even that bit of encouragement was enough to ignite my blood. I dropped my side of the sheet and took Mrs. Southard's veiled head in my hands, pulling her face against me as I kissed her again. Her side of the sheet lowered, then fell to the ground, as her focus transferred from the linens to the kisses I was planting against her lips. She still was not kissing me eagerly, but she was not stopping me either, letting me offer one kiss after another, each hungrier than the last.

Finally, too overcome with lust to be satisfied with mere kisses, I pulled away and stared into Mrs. Southard's eyes.

"Oh my god..." I whispered, unable to summon the words to say more.

Mrs. Southard stood there, silent, as if wrestling with herself. But then my name escaped her lips:

"Ethan..."

Taking it as a sign, I moved back in, resuming our kisses. But as we continued, I pushed further, tentatively allowing my hands to trace over her robed body. First her shoulders, then down her sides to her hips. Then, feeling bold, I moved towards her back, grasping her ass cheeks through her coverings and squeezing them appreciatively. God, they felt even better than I'd imagined.

Incredibly, Mrs. Southard still made no move to stop me. I couldn't believe my luck--just how far was she going to let this go?

As if sensing my question, Mrs. Southard's own hands began to move, lifting to the scarf around her head. Pulling away from me, she slowly unwound it, revealing her beautiful locks of brown hair. Once she'd freed herself, dropping the cloth on the ground, she tossed her hair back, running her fingers through its tendrils as if relishing her newfound freedom.

Mesmerized by her unveiling, I took Mrs. Southard's head in my hands and repeated her motion, stroking my fingers through her long strands. I'd never been so awed by a woman's hair before, but the removal of Mrs. Southard's headscarf had transformed her from quietly pretty to stunningly beautiful.

"Mrs. Southard..." I marveled. "You're gorgeous..."

I expected her to fawn over my compliment, but instead she simply stepped forward and began to kiss me again.

Her initiative refocused me. I snapped back to attention.

As our kisses resumed, I no longer bothered to hide my excitement. Moving my hands down from Mrs. Southard's head over her chest, I fondled her full breasts, then continued down to her hips for a second time. But rather than re-experience her ass, I began pulling on her robes, dragging them upwards off her body. But my eagerness outweighed my coordination. Each time I made good progress, my hands slipped and her fabric returned to its initial position.

Finally, Mrs. Southard took pity on me.

Pushing my hands away and stepping back, she accomplished what I could not: ridding herself of the layers that shielded her frame. In seconds, she had extracted herself from them, revealing what she'd worked so hard to keep hidden: a spectacular body that had no business belonging to a mother... especially not the mother of my best friend.

"God, you're so fucking hot," I said, knowing that I sounded stupid as hell but unable to stop myself.

While Mrs. Southard wasn't totally naked--she still wore her bra and panties--it was close enough. Forgetting our kisses for the moment, I turned my attention to the visual feast before me. The curves. The toned legs. The smooth skin. I couldn't decide what turned me on the most.

I stepped forward... slowly, tentatively putting my hands on Mrs. Southard's body as if afraid to discover she was nothing more than a figment of my imagination. But this was no hallucination. She was here. She was real. And she awaited my exploration.

I eagerly embarked. Although I'd already traced her body through her coverings, this was an entirely new experience. An erotic scenario manifested directly from my fantasies. This time, it was bare skin I catalogued, not just the outlines of her fabric-clad curves. When I grew bold enough to fondle her breasts within her bra, squeezing them firmly, I finally accepted that there might not be limits to what Mrs. Southard allowed.

With a fresh burst of confidence, I reached behind Mrs. Southard's back and grasped her bra clasp. Somehow, I managed to separate it on the first try. The rest of the bra quickly followed, leaving Mrs. Southard's tits hanging freely in the air.

They were every bit as spectacular as I'd remembered them: full, round, with perky nipples and large areolas. But now they were even better because they were right in front of my face, not seen through a dimly-lit window.

Entranced, I began to fondle the bare mounds, one in each hand. Squeezing, rubbing, pressing, and everything in between, I couldn't get enough of the twin beauties. As I worked, Mrs. Southard watched me with focused interest, studying my expression with the same intensity that I directed at her chest.

Once I'd finally satisfied myself with her boobs, I moved my hands downward, tracing over her stomach, appreciating its softness and warmth. But it was merely the detour to my ultimate prize. I kept going, lower and lower, until I'd encountered the last fabric on Mrs. Southard's body: her panties.

But here Mrs. Southard put an end to my journey, taking my hand in hers and moving it up to her hip instead.

For a moment, I was off-balance.

I'd somehow gone too far. But how? We'd already gone so far already.

Disheartened, but not wanting to make a fuss about it, I moved to kiss her again. But Mrs. Southard turned her head, avoiding contact.

What the hell was going on here? Why did she suddenly seem no longer interested?

My frustration rose. If our fun was truly over, it almost would have been better to not have started in the first place. We'd barely reached second base. If we stopped now, I would be left with the biggest set of blueballs in history.

Mrs. Southard sensed my exasperation.

"Ethan..." she said apologetically. "I'm sorry, but we shouldn't be doing this. I... got carried away. I shouldn't have let this get so far."

If I'd been in my right mind, I would have said something cool then. Something so suave and sophisticated that it would have left Mrs. Southard wetter than she'd ever been in her life. But faced with the prospect of our fun suddenly ending, all I felt was desperation.

"Please, Mrs. Southard," I begged. "Can we do just a bit more? I'm dying here."

For emphasis, I gestured at my pants, the crotch bulging with my arousal.

Mrs. Southard was silent for a moment. I sensed her regret battling with her sympathy for my condition.

"Please?" I pressed. "I'll never ask for anything again. I'll stop flirting too. You don't know how bad I need this."

Still, she said nothing.

"Just a handjob to finish me off. Please."

At last, my words broke through Mrs. Southard's indecisiveness.

"Okay. A handjob," she agreed. "But that's the end of this. No more flirting. Put me out of your mind completely. Not a word about this to anyone. Forget it ever happened."

"Deal. I won't tell a soul, I swear," I immediately replied. And I meant it.

"Okay," she said, as if settling the matter in her own mind. "Okay, sit down and get it out, I guess."

I didn't need to be told twice. I unbuttoned my jeans, flinging them and my underwear to my ankles before kicking them off entirely. My cock, stiff to the point of discomfort, swung upwards and aimed itself at Mrs. Southard.

Somehow, Mrs. Southard regarded my undressing without reaction, even after my cock locked onto her position. Her disinterest didn't even make a dent in my own arousal, though. If anything, it heightened it.

"So, do you want to sit down or were you planning on standing up the entire time?" she asked.

So much blood had collected in my cock that little remained in my brain.

"Uh, yeah. We can move to the couch."

I shuffled over and took my place. I left the spot to my right open for Mrs. Southard, but she didn't sit immediately, instead moving to collect her bra and robes.

My arousal had been stopped cold in my tracks once already. If Mrs. Southard redressed, it would be a second blow, one that I didn't know if I would recover from.

"Could you hold off putting those back on?" I asked, sounding much more pitiful than I'd intended. "I'll finish faster if you stay like that."

I could tell Mrs. Southard didn't love the idea of jacking me off in just her panties, but my logic was solid. If she wanted to wrap up our little encounter quickly, then a near-naked handjob might be her best option.

Mrs. Southard straightened, thankfully leaving her clothes on the ground. She then took her spot next to me, leaving most of her body on display.

It wasn't as much as I'd hoped for, but by the time she wrapped her fingers around my cock, precum was already oozing steadily out of me.

"Guess I won't need to worry about lube," Mrs. Southard observed.

She began to slowly pump me then, using my own precum to slicken my shaft as her hand moved. Up, down, up, down. Each pass building the pressures in my cock and my mind to greater and greater heights.

My mouth dropped open in pleasured awe as I stared at her handiwork, but when Mrs. Southard scooted closer to me for a better angle, I faced her instead. Noticing my head's movement, Mrs. Southard glanced my direction; the moment our faces aligned, I kissed her.

I expected her to pull away then, but instead she doubled-down, meeting me with even greater intensity than I'd presented her with. She'd apparently committed to the path of getting me off as quickly as possible, even if it meant going further than she'd promised.

And if I didn't fight it, she would likely succeed in her goal of a fast finish. This was the hottest sexual encounter of my life, and it was just a simple handjob. Unless I wanted it over in moments, I needed a distraction ASAP.

As we kissed and Mrs. Southard's hand continued to work its magic, I reached across her body, angling her towards me. She went along with it, no doubt thinking I was just intensifying our position. Which, to be fair, I was. But the move had an extra benefit; it swung her right leg over my own. It was a small difference, but to my lust-saturated mind, it was critical. I was now technically between her legs.

Keeping up my kisses, hoping they'd distract Mrs. Southard from my broader intentions, I rested my left hand on Mrs. Southard's thigh--the one draped over my leg--then began to brush along it with what I hoped seemed like mindless rubbing. But when it became clear that Mrs. Southard wasn't stopping me, I went further: higher and higher on her thigh until I finally reached her pelvis.

I remained here for a few seconds, waiting for Mrs. Southard's disapproval, but she simply kept tugging and kissing me. And so, I moved inward. Slowly, carefully, I brushed along her panties until I'd reached her center. And there I found... wetness. It seemed Mrs. Southard was enjoying herself more than she'd been letting on.

Surprisingly, even here, there was hardly a reaction from Mrs. Southard at all. Just a slight increase in her tugging intensity.

Feeling emboldened, I kept my hand in place, rubbing my fingertips along her panties, just a casual gesture that happened to fall into a steady rhythm. But this step might have been too far: Mrs. Southard broke off our kisses and pulled away.

She stared down at my hand between her legs then back at me.

"Is that helping you?"

"Oh my god, yes," I moaned softly. "I'm getting so close."

Mrs. Southard nodded slightly and returned her focus to stroking my cock. But, in a further concession, she pushed her right leg further over me to allow my hand even greater access. But this wasn't a simple act of spreading her legs wider; Mrs. Southard had pushed her torso over my body, coming very close to straddling me outright.

It was too close, in fact. Unable to resist, I withdrew my hand from between Mrs. Southard's legs to finish the journey for her, shifting her over my thighs completely. She remained scooted far enough down my thighs that she wasn't in a riding position, but it offered many of the same benefits. I tried to ignore her bare breasts hanging inches from my face--engaging with them would send me over the edge for sure--but it was almost impossible.

Mrs. Southard accepted our new position without complaint, using its compromising nature to her advantage. She stared down at me with a slight smile, tugging me steadily, looking like a pornstar awaiting the money shot. I half expected her to start begging for my cum.

But I still wasn't ready to be done. I'd worked so hard to make it to this point, I couldn't imagine ducking out now.

And so, as Mrs. Southard tugged me with frantic urgency, I moved my hand back between her legs to stroke her in return. She tugged and I rubbed, the two of us masturbating each other with equal determination. Even though she'd cut me off from touching her pussy earlier, it was clear she was enjoying herself now, and I began to wonder: could I make her cum before I'd finished?

But then Mrs. Southard played dirty. She scooted forward over my thighs, bringing her pelvis over mine. The move wasn't just about improving her stability and blocking my hand; it pushed her panty-clad pussy against my cock, trapping it between our bodies. And then, the real purpose of her move became clear. She began grinding herself against me, pleasuring my cock with her body.

"Oh my god," I groaned in defeat as much as pleasure, knowing that I wouldn't be able to last much longer now.

My cry only drove Mrs. Southard to secure her finish, rotating her pelvis provocatively over my cock. Desperate to make use of whatever time left, I reached under Mrs. Southard's legs, trying to reach her pussy again as it ground over me. If I could distract her for just a moment, I could postpone my release. Finally, I managed to sneak in, even hooking the crotch of her panties and pulling it aside--but this backfired. Without anything to absorb it, her lubrication started to saturate my cock.

Fully lost now, I accepted my fate. Rather than resist Mrs. Southard's grinding, I switched to assisting it. Keeping her panties pulled to the side with one hand, I placed the other on her ass cheek, helping her slide up and down along my cock. God I was so close!

But then something unexpected happened. I don't know if I pushed too hard or Mrs. Southard overshot, but when she slid up my cock, she kept going, slipping up past my head. But when momentum pulled her back down, she didn't slide back over my cock.

She slid onto it.

I felt her pussy suddenly press against my tip, and then, a moment later, engulf it. I was girthy enough that she didn't take me completely, but she'd gotten past my cockhead, and that was plenty. Pleasure exploded in my brain, the most intense and all-consuming pleasure I'd ever felt, and it wasn't even an orgasm. Just the massive release of stockpiled fantasies and anticipation.

Mrs. Southard immediately realized her mistake and tried to pull off me, resetting to our previous position, but it was too late. I'd already instinctively moved the hand from her ass to her back, keeping her secured in place. Between that hand and her pussy spreading to accommodate my size, she instead sunk further onto my shaft.

She might still have freed herself if she'd pulled away a second time, but as Mrs. Southard settled onto me, I braced my heels on the ground and thrust upwards against her; a move that came from reflex rather than conscious intent. But regardless of reason, the result was the same. My shaft vanished.

It was official: I was fully inside Mrs. Southard.

I'd had sex multiple times. I thought I knew what pleasure was. But nothing I'd experienced before compared to this. Mrs. Southard was the ultimate forbidden woman. She was my roommate's mom. She was married. She had to have been twice my age. She was the prudish-est woman I knew. She'd already turned me down countless times before, and hell, had even almost cut off this one.

And yet, here I was, my cock buried deep inside her pussy.

I would have liked to say that our first fuck session truly started then, a minutes-long fuckstravaganza that left us both with the best orgasms of our lives. But the truth was that I'd already reached my edge. I thrust upwards into Mrs. Southard a few more times, and that was all I had. My ecstasy-filled brain received one last burst of pleasure, then I released.

Lost to the world, I began shooting wave after wave of cum against Mrs. Southard's cervix, inseminating her from below. It seemed to continue forever, an endless wave of semen flooding her womb, but at last I came to, opening my eyes to find Mrs. Southard staring down at me with an indecipherable expression.

I exhaled heavily. "Oh my god. Mrs. Southard...."

She didn't say a word but looked down at our pelvises mashed together as if trying to understand how we'd ended up in this position. Then, suddenly, she pulled off me, her panties shifting back into place over her pussy... but not before a drop of cum dripped onto my body.

I stared at it, equally in disbelief, then looked up at her.

For a moment longer, Mrs. Southard seemed to be at a loss. But then she gathered herself, falling back into the same demeanor I'd grown to expect from her.

"Don't move. I've got a washcloth right here you can use to clean up with. We're not gonna mess up these linens right after I finished washing them."

She tossed me the cloth. I quickly wiped myself down before I could contaminate any of Mrs. Southard's precious linens.

Properly cleaned, I then stood from the couch.

"Did you cum? If not, I can finish you off," I offered.

"I think there's been enough finishing today," Mrs. Southard said, sounding angrier than I'd ever heard her sound before.

"Whoa, I'm sorry," I said, holding up my hands defensively. "I was just trying to be nice."

Mrs. Southard softened. "I know, Ethan. I know you are. I'm not upset with you. I... I shouldn't have let this happen. This is on me. This was a very bad thing we just did."

"It didn't feel bad," I said. "Actually, it felt the opposite of bad."

Mrs. Southard humored me with a small smile. "That's part of the problem. Look, we'll talk about what happened later. We need to get ourselves put back together before anyone sees us. Get dressed."

Reluctantly, I did, but only after offering one last appreciative glance towards Mrs. Southard... before she covered herself again.

After the night I saw her naked in the window, I knew I'd never forget what she looked like without clothes. This moment was similar: I'd never forget what it had felt like to be inside her.

But now I was faced with a dilemma. Now that I knew how mindblowing sex with Mrs. Southard could be, how was I supposed to resist her ever again? Especially since there was so much more that I wanted to do. Hell, we'd barely scratched the surface of the possibilities.

But whatever the future held for us, it would have to wait. I was depleted and Mrs. Southard had already left the room, off to straighten herself out in the master suite.

And so, accepting that our fun was over for the moment, but hoping that our new connection had only begun, I went to clean up and await Kal's return.

But while I waited, I mentally replayed my experience with Mrs. Southard. Over and over again until I'd committed it to memory. Every glimpse, every touch, every taste.

And then, I dreamed about what might happen next with Mrs. Southard... and just how far things could go.