As I got ready to leave, I noticed Mrs Page laying in bed with her hips elevated. I realised I had served my purpose in their little sexual play and I was hardly expecting her to see me out, but it took a few seconds of poking around in her mind before I realised what she was doing.
Pleasure is addictive, and obsession even more-so. Mrs Page had never asked her son whether he wanted children, taking his consistent use of contraception as an answer.
But with her only child leaving, that meant that Mrs Page would be without a constant source of pleasure. Without Tom around to make happy, she would lose the 24/7 orgasmic glow that surrounded her. Short of following him to college (which would certainly cause displeasure and be self-defeating), there was nothing she could do to prevent her from being cut off from her source.
But if she was going to be meeting anonymous men in bars every night or two and taking them back anyway…
As I said, when you put a thought into someone’s head, you lose all control of it. “Your son,” I had originally said. Mrs Page only had one child, so “Your son” simply referred to all of her offspring.
“Your children’s pleasure turns you on”, I may as well have said.
I smiled, put my hat on, got ready to leave the Page household. 40 wasn’t too old to have a second child. This time, she’d do it right. This time she’d make sure that the kid had everything it needed, twenty-four seven. This time she’d be orgasming from the first kick.
I made a note of the address, and took my leave.
I’d have to check back in again in a few years, and see if I was a father.