Free My Daughter's Boyfriend by Cydney Rax

apartment. But I was surprised when I allowed him to come in.
    After putting away my packages, the first thing I did was look at caller ID. Lauren hadn’t phoned. That was good, yet bad. Good if it meant she was so busy having fun that she wouldn’t call. Bad if she decided to take that moment to phone home. What if she asked what I was doing?
    The thought of having to make a confession made me want to die.
    Aaron, not yet having said one word, made himself at home. He went to the fridge and poured a three-quarter glass of fruit punch. Then he took a seat and wasted no time gulping his drink. His silence unnerved me. It was as if he looked forward to being alone with me in the apartment. I felt warm and warmer. I decided to go change clothes when I felt the wetness of my shirt clinging to my breasts.
    I held up a finger. “Be right back.” Aaron nodded and rested his arm against the back of the couch. He looked relaxed and content.
    At first I started to throw on my hokey PJs, the ones that cover all your skin, the kind that good ole grandma would wear. But I opened my drawer and retrieved a Victoria’s Secret black satin lace-up gown: High slits with lattice tie-ups on the side, plunging V-neck to showcase the prominent cleavage.
    Hey, Aaron had already seen some of what I had to offer. I believed he appreciated what he saw, and the more I thought of Steve’s trifling ways, the less I cared about what I was doing.
    So caution was thrown to the wind, completely forgotten.
    “Hey now,” he said when I entered the room. I took slow steps; paraded in front of him, twirled around with my hands outspread. Felt myself perspiring. It would have been a great time to blast the air conditioner, but I didn’t think it would make a dent.
    He stood up, appraised me up and down, and grabbed both my hands.
    “See, I wasn’t lying, Ms. Davenport,” he said with softness. “You
do
look good. Hell, you look damned good.”
    I raised my eyebrows.
    “Ms. Davenport?” I asked, pulling my hands from his grasp and placing them on my hips.
    Aaron blushed as embarrassment scrambled across his face. He stepped back and returned to the couch.
    I looked at the ticking clock mounted on the living room wall.
    It was eleven-forty.
    “Hey, got any good music?” he asked.
    “I’m sure I have something you might want to listen to.”
    He removed his jacket, exposing his smooth and toned arms. Winked at me and smiled.
    I swallowed deeply. Felt a stirring between my legs that couldn’t be denied.
    “Let’s see what you got over here,” he murmured, approaching the stereo.
    “Hey, Aaron. Lauren tells me you have a lot of CDs. My little collection pales compared to yours.”
    “Don’t feel bad. I’m sure you have something we can both enjoy.”
    We.
    I warmed again. Wiped my eyes. Felt weaker. Especially when he slipped on the Isley Brothers’
The Heat Is On
CD. Loved that music when I was younger; still loved it now that I was older. The wailing of “For the Love of You” inducted us into a different realm. He grabbed me and I didn’t stop him. Let him grab my waist, pulling my cleavage against his scorching chest. Felt so bad, so confused. He may have been young, but I swear his body didn’t know it. I laid my head against his neck, enjoyed the strength of his body, and rocked with him.
    Outwardly I was acting like everything was legit, but deep inside a battle ensued. For a second I thought I was lapsing into mental instability. I’d go from realizing how great it felt to be in this handsome guy’s arms, and seconds later I’d think of Steve and how he’d brought this on himself. And much less often I’d think of the young lady I’d given birth to, believing that my being with Aaron wasn’t newsworthy. Since Lauren claimed that she and Aaron hadn’t consummated their relationship, she couldn’t miss what she’d never had, right?
    Or could she?
    Because we were in the living room, every once in a while I’d hear noises