"Christ, Ma, I hate to think of what you're missing," he breathed, inching his arm up her back and resting his hand on the softness of her neck.
Liz looked at him as best she could through the alcoholic curtain over her eyes. She searched his brown eyes for meaning. What she saw was his father of years and years ago, the same lecherous look. Her heart turned over. There was the inexplicable tingling in her body for a chance to remake the past. "I-I'm not sure of that," she said loyally and almost by rote. "I don't think you mean that," he said slowly, his tongue slipping over his lips suggestively.
Liz felt the muscles in her neck tense, but she didn't pull away from his hand. A clamminess crept the length of her spine, causing a little shiver to pass over her. She managed to speak finally.
"Kevin, don't," she said, taking another strong gulp from the glass and setting it absentmindedly on the night table. Her elbow then knocked carelessly, perhaps nervously, against the little table and the tumbler fell with a shattering of glass to the floor. She bent down to pick up the splintered pieces scattered in front of the bed and, as she did, her son clasped his hand around her chin and drew her face to his lips. She pulled back, her lips quivering in fear, then he pulled forward again and thrust his tongue deep into her resisting mouth. She tried to rise up and wrench away, but she could not. It was not a matter of his superior strength that was evident in the tight grasp he had now around her shoulders and the firm clasp of one hand on the pouted flesh of her lovely cheeks. It was just that for some reason which she knew should be evident to her confused mind… she didn't want to! He kissed her again, and this time her lips trembled softly as he splurged in his tongue, then withdrew it slowly, sending out warm electric tingles of pleasure across her flushed cheeks.