I blinked at Kaylee a few times, only approaching half-awake. She slunk into my bedroom on her quiet feet to ask me to make her favorite breakfast. She seemed to appear out of nowhere a lot. Weren’t teenagers supposed to be clumsy and ignorant of their surroundings from all that pure self-absorption? I laughed inwardly to myself. It was all that ballet she took that made her light on her feet. I inelegantly covered a yawn with the back of my hand, “What will it be this morning?” And then, out of the sleep-haze, I remembered I promised to make her something specific, but my brain hadn’t woken up enough to recall. “You promised blintzes.” She rolled her eyes. “You don’t remember?” “Oh.” I chuckled. Blintzes, obviously. It was her favorite. “Of course.” I glanced sidelong at my bedside clock. A little after seven. How did I end up with a teenager who felt it oh-so-necessary to not sleep in today? Yeah, blintzes, that’s right. “Oh, and guess what I heard about Christy and her boyfriend.” She grinned cheerily, knowing that I would enjoy the gossip. I wasn’t one of those people that lived for it, but it was entertaining. And it allowed me to keep up on what the kids did these days. I listened to her anyways, even though it was too early for gossip, sitting up and still under my covers, as she told me the story. I sat there for a while hoping that she would finish quickly and then I could get dressed and feed her. But, Kaylee continued talking and moving onto other subjects and asking me questions and obligating me to give her some sort of answer, despite my sleepy state. “Aren’t you going to change?” she finally asked after she noticed I wasn’t moving and attentively waited for her. “The sooner you finish up your story and let me do that the sooner you can have your beloved-beyond-all-that-is-holy blintzes,” I poked. Her face playfully took on a look of shock as I plucked up an elastic hair tie from my nightstand and knotted my dirty blonde hair. “You can change, it’s fine,” she said. I was struck by the novelty of her suggestion to change in front of her. I couldn’t remember a time when I undressed in front of her. It wasn’t completely strange, though. She could seem much more like a sister than my step-daughter sometimes. I suppose that was another motherly inclination I would have to abandon. She was an eighteen-year-old woman now and, in many ways, I’d have to see her as an independent woman with her own ideas, capable, and able to determine what she wanted. If she wanted to be included as one of my girlfriends then I would have to respect and embrace that. I lifted my nightie over my head, trying to act as nonchalantly as possible. Despite her very grown-up idea, this was a new thing to me. I looked at her, studying her face but I couldn’t tell much from her expression. I felt the air tickle my nipples and bare pussy and it felt wonderful. I continued nodding as she went on talking and her eyes casually drifted over my body. “You look pretty good.” She surprised me in a good way. “Those work outs are paying off.” “Really trying to suck up until you get your blintzes, I see,” I teased and smirked. “Just saying the effort is noticeable,” she dismissed, sounding a little defensive, taken aback obviously by my inability to take the compliment. “You’ve inspired me a little with your dedication to dancing, I suppose,” I offered, which was true, accepting her compliment and letting her know it was appreciated. “Now you’re the one who’s sucking up, mom.” Her turn to smirk. She got me. “Well, your Highness, toss me some underwear,” I mocked. Years of watching my mom and grandma truck around almanbahis the house all weekend in pajamas and housecoats permanently turned me off to them. I got dressed when I got up and it was the closest thing to a ritual I had. It wasn’t a ritual with too many strictures. Sweats counted. Kaylee slid off the bed and went to the dresser, tugging open my underwear drawer, and rummaged. She rooted right past the comfy cotton things and dug down to the slinkier undies. I nearly threw up my hands at her choice. I did my best to not control my chagrin when she tossed me a matching set of satin bra and panty. They were downright skimpy. Who cooked breakfast in a get-up like this? “C’mon, it picks up your highlights,” she said, as I obviously didn’t cover my annoyance very well. “Will it pick up my highlights through the sweats?” “When you look mahvelous, you feel mahvelous,” she countered. I cursed my decision to turn Kaylee onto Saturday Night Live re-runs. I’d have to let her know that Billy Crystal was doing comedy, not doling out life advice. I pulled it on from the front as I’d done for years. I’d always been limber enough to fasten it in the back but, ironically, the kickboxing classes that were making me fit also made me stiff this morning. After twenty years of a routine, it was hard to adjust my front-first habit. I smiled. “Mind helping me on with my bra?” I spun my back to Kaylee and offered her both sides of the open bra strap. She was behind me in an instant. I felt Kaylee’s approach as a telltale rush of air, quick and soundless in her dancer’s way. Her hands startled me as they came around my front. Her fingers traced under chest and along my bra, brushing against the side of my breasts, tugging it expertly into place. She hooked it a notch tighter than I usually did and I could feel my breasts bulging out of the cups a bit. “Wait, your strap’s funny.” She untwisted the shoulder strap as I waited. “It’s fine now. You look really… nice.” That was a funny pause. Either way, her warm and pleasant breath felt good against my back. It was nice in an unexpected but unsettling way. “Y-yeah.” I caught myself. I felt crowded, needed more space. She was too close. “Hey. Be a dear and get some things ready in the kitchen for me? I’ll be there in a moment.” Her arms came around me again and she hugged me from behind, cross-wise, with one arm under mine and the other over my shoulder. She pulled me tightly, her smaller body pressing into me and I felt her breasts in my back. She rested one chin on my shoulder. “Thanks for the blintzes.” She smiled. I rubbed her bare forearms and she squeezed me tighter still. She gave me one last little squeeze and her lips brushed the back of my neck under my ponytail for a quick peck. “I’ll try making some coffee,” she chirped, finally letting me go and heading for the door. I turned and watched her pad down the hall and into the kitchen. She’d never made coffee before. Never even offered. My Kaylee was growing up, maybe a little quicker than I expected. **** Kaylee wasn’t always like this. I’m an observant mom. I noticed her teen diffidence being replaced with more honesty, more openness. She was more thoughtful, asking me what I was up to and how I was doing. She touched me more. By the time Kaylee turned eighteen, a lot of things changed. In the past, my advice went in one ear and out the other. Like most teens, she paid little attention to her mom’s opinions. But then, she’d always made her own decisions. I doubt too many mothers will ever hear their fourteen-year-old say, “Okay, Mom. I’ll take what you’re saying under advisement” like almanbahis yeni giriş I was tasking her with curing cancer. Under advisement?! I’d told my sister about that and we had a good chuckle. I actually found Kaylee’s independence reassuring. Knowing she thought for herself made me worry a lot less about the usual perils of raising a teenager. I felt secure knowing she would never be talked into something she didn’t want to do. We actually talked about things now, instead of her blatantly ignoring what I said and doing what she wanted any ways. Last month was a perfect example of the ever-evolving Kaylee. After I told her that her aunt needed her to work at the office (where Kaylee also worked part time), she pouted a little, saying she already made plans with friends for the day. She relented though, and more easily than I expected. After thinking about it, she agreed, saying she could use the extra money for college and that she even looked forward to spending time with her aunt. She was so mature about the whole thing. She forgave the intrusion on her social life quickly, apparently, because only a couple of nights later she joined me on the couch on a Friday night to watch an old black-and-white movie. I didn’t even have to ask. Not that long ago, she would have spent the night out with friends or holed up in her room, on the internet, writing, talking with friends, or whatever instead of watching a movie with me. That night, she materialized next to the couch in her silent way. “Mind if I watch with you?” “Never.” I waved her onto the couch with me, my eyes still glued to the screen. She folded herself up carefully next to me, poised as always. She snuggled into me, nudged my arm up and then around her. I couldn’t remember the last time she pressed her smaller, more delicate body into mine like that. When the movie ended, she stirred, yawned, saying,”That wasn’t so bad… for an old movie” She stretched, kissed me on the forehead, and was off to bed. I was amazed. The fact that she actually acknowledged it spoke volumes. In the past, she would have disliked it just to be contrary. Our movie tastes mixed like oil and water. She liked artsy movies and adaptions of classic novels and I liked romances, some older black and whites, and things a bit more mainstream. I didn’t know what changed, other than a general sense of opening up, but it felt wonderful. I tried to remember the last time we cuddled like that for the past two hours. I felt my heart swell and I realized that, without knowing it, some part of me had craved Kayle’s attention. There was a time when I was her entire world, when she’d been mine. Maybe Kaylee was coming back to me. It was a late night a week later and I was drunk on Golden Era romance. Kaylee’s closeness and the feelings she stirred up brought older memories to the surface, ones I’d shuttered away. My best girlfriend during high-school and I were close in our late teens, insanely close, more than most. It got to the point where it was physical. Very physical. It was tender and nervous, kind and eager, and completely experimental. We weren’t much older than Kaylee, living in a small town where we hadn’t dated much at eighteen and nineteen years old. We were horny, naive, and curious. She was my first girl and I was her’s. Eventually, we moved on, having “grown out of it” after things naturally ran their course. She never developed a sustained desire for girls but that time with her flipped some kind of switch in me I never realized existed. From then on, I dated both guys and girls. All these years later, I still thought about those almanbahis giriş times with fondness and a deep sense of arousal. Sometimes, I came, shuddering, guilty, late at night, biting back her name. I was never as close to a woman as I was with her. Although, we never had an extremely deep conversation about our feelings, only being extremely eager to experience our urges, we completely trusted each other. It was a trust that was more solid than the trust I’ve had with anyone else. I felt that I was beginning to develop a meaningful connection with Kaylee. Did some of the longer looks from Kaylee remind me of those days? I never told Kaylee about my experiences with my wonderful girlfriend in high-school, but I knew those feelings would surface again and I wanted Kaylee to be prepared for living with a bisexual step-mother. I told her about my sexuality as well as I could explain it to her at a young age. And after her dad and I broke up, I dated mostly guys, but also some women. She accepted my choices with the kind of ease people do when they are exposed to something early. That night after the movie, I did something shameful. After sharing a long snuggle with my daughter on the couch, watching Rita Hayworth slink around in filmy dresses, I stretched out on the couch. I reached into my sweatpants and I masturbated. There, in the living room. Lit by the muted TV. Memories of my high-school girlfriend when we were both young and eager and curious, filled my head. As always, the memories quickened things. When the sharp-edged crest of my furtive climax snapped white behind my closed eyelids, it wasn’t my girlfriend’s face I saw. It was Kaylee’s. My step-daughter was looking at me, laying next to me, stroking my hair, telling me I was beautiful. I shook my head, banishing the thoughts, and rode out the adamant climax, hunching into my own palm, grinding against my clit, trying to make the blistering orgasm and its insane thoughts end. It refused, stretched out, bloomed, expanded, doubled. I heaved under its ridiculous weight, barely able to breathe, until the hot joy it heaped on me was over. I was left weak and limp on the couch, unable to move. **** As a show of respect for her adulthood, we took turns picking films. It was only a month later when she surprised me with her pick. “What’s it called?” I asked. She clicked the mouse a few times and re-read the title, “Clara’s Summer.” “Haven’t heard of it. It’s not one of those direct-to-video things is it? Those things are awful.” “It’s French, Mom,” she explained. Her voice had the strained patience of someone talking to the very slow-witted. “Oh,” I muttered as I walked around behind her to see the computer screen and her Netflix account. I was surprised by her choice. It was the first sign that she was interested in this type of thing. The thumbnail cover on the computer screen showed two girls kissing, girls about her age, eighteen or nineteen. “It was actually a made-for-TV movie in France,” she continued. “Well, I’d like to see more of their made-for-TV movies, then!” I joked as I read the description. The film was about two girls who become infatuated with one another. Their relationship breaks up and one of them moves on after their tryst. A beautiful bisexual girl comes to continue one of the girl’s experimentation and self-discovery and relieve her anguish. Laden with a faux-angst but artsy description, it was no wonder Kaylee wanted to see the movie. “I guess I thought you might like it too. You know, since you play for both teams and all.” “Sure, why not? I’m in. It’ll be fun to watch you squirm at the girlie love parts,” I quipped. Kaylee started the movie on the TV and took up her now-favorite position, stretched out on her side with her head resting on my leg. The movie was true to its description and seeing pretty young girls was a surprising treat.