Like Mother
"He's been with Vivian for six months. When her wild daughter comes home for summer and starts pushing boundaries, Vivian doesn't shut it down — she competes."
Vivian doesn't know I'm in love with her.
Six months of dinners and weekends, six months of her body against mine, and I still haven't said it. She's not the type for declarations. Keeps her feelings locked behind professional smiles and perfectly applied lipstick.
But I love her. Her curves hidden under tailored blazers. Her soft laugh when she lets her guard down. The way she takes control in bed, like everything is a negotiation she intends to win.
I love her. And I have no idea what to do when her daughter walks through the door.
"This is Jade." Vivian's hand is on my arm, proprietary. "She's home for summer."
Jade is twenty-three. Wild dark hair where her mother's is sleek. Ripped jeans and a band t-shirt stretched across breasts that rival her mother's. She's fuller than Vivian — softer around the edges, less controlled. Same face, younger. Same curves, unrestrained.
"So you're the boyfriend." She looks me up and down without hiding it. "Mom didn't mention you were hot."
"Jade." Vivian's voice is a warning.
"What? I'm being honest." Jade drops her bag, flops onto the couch. "She never tells me anything important."
"There are boundaries—"
"Boundaries." Jade laughs. "Sure, Mom. Whatever you say."
Dinner is a battlefield.
Vivian has cooked — she never cooks — and she's wearing a dress I bought her. The one that shows off her shoulders, hugs her waist, makes me want to skip straight to dessert.
Jade has changed too. Into something shorter. Tighter. She sits across from me, and every time she reaches for her wine, her shirt rides up.
She's doing it on purpose.
"So how'd you two meet?" Jade asks, chin propped on her hand.
"Work function," I say.
"He was the only interesting person there," Vivian adds.
"I bet." Jade's foot brushes my ankle under the table. "Mom has terrible taste usually. Men who wear suits and talk about golf."
"I don't play golf."
"No?" Her foot slides higher. Against my calf. "What do you play?"
"Jade." Vivian's voice is ice.
"What? I'm just asking." Those eyes — her mother's eyes — hold mine. "Can't I get to know him?"
After dinner, Vivian pulls me into the kitchen.
"I'm sorry about her." She's washing dishes, movements sharp. "She's always been... difficult."
"It's fine."
"It's not fine." She turns to face me. "She's testing me. She always tests me."
"Testing you how?"
Vivian's jaw tightens. "By taking things that are mine."
Before I can respond, Jade appears in the doorway. Leans against the frame like she belongs there.
"Don't stop on my account," she says. "I love watching Mom get territorial."
"Go to bed, Jade."
"I'm not tired." She walks past us, brushing against me — deliberate, obvious. "But you two have fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do."
She disappears down the hall. Vivian's hands are shaking.
"I should go," I say.
"No." She grabs my wrist. "You're staying. I'm not letting her run you off."
We're in Vivian's bedroom. The house is quiet. We're trying to be quiet too — but Vivian is not in a quiet mood.
She's on top of me, riding hard, making a point. Her hands are planted on my chest, her breasts swaying, her eyes fierce.
"You're mine," she says. "You understand?"
"I understand."
"She can flirt all she wants. Touch you all she wants." Her hips grind down. "But you come back to me. Always."
"Always."
She leans down, kisses me hard. When she pulls back, her lipstick is smeared.
"Good boy."
The next morning, Jade is at the breakfast table when I come downstairs.
Vivian is still asleep. I was going to make coffee, slip out before things got complicated.
Too late.
"Morning." Jade is wearing an oversized t-shirt, nothing else visible. Her legs are bare, crossed at the ankle. "Sleep well?"
"Fine."
"I heard." She smiles over her coffee cup. "The walls are thin."
My face heats. "I should—"
"Sit." She kicks out the chair across from her. "Have coffee. Mom won't be up for hours. She always sleeps late after a good night."
I hesitate. Sit.
"So," Jade says. "How long have you been fucking my mother?"
I choke on my coffee.
"Sorry. Too direct?" She doesn't look sorry. "I just like to know where things stand."
"Six months."
"And you're serious about her?"
"Yes."
"Interesting." She tilts her head, studying me. "She doesn't usually do serious. She does controlled. Calculated. Men who serve a purpose and get discarded when the purpose is done."
"I'm not like that."
"No," Jade agrees. "You're not." Her foot finds mine under the table. "Which is what makes this interesting."
"What are you doing?"
"What does it look like?" Her foot slides up my calf. "Testing the waters."
"Jade—"
"Relax." She pulls back, laughs. "I just wanted to see what you'd do. You passed. Mostly."
"Mostly?"
Her eyes drop to my lap. "You're hard."
I am. Fuck.
"That doesn't mean—"
"It doesn't mean nothing, either." She stands, stretches — the t-shirt rides up to dangerous heights. "See you around, boyfriend."
It gets worse.
Every day, Jade pushes harder. A hand on my shoulder that lingers. Bending over in front of me, conveniently, to pick something up. Wearing less and less around the house.
And Vivian notices. Of course she notices.
But she doesn't tell Jade to stop. She competes.
When Jade wears a low-cut top, Vivian wears a lower one. When Jade touches my arm, Vivian pulls me into a kiss. When Jade sits too close to me on the couch, Vivian sits on my lap.
They're using me. I know they are.
I don't care.
Friday night. Vivian has made dinner again. Wine is flowing. We're all a little drunk.
"So," Jade says, leaning back in her chair. "When are we going to stop pretending?"
Vivian's glass pauses halfway to her lips. "Pretending what?"
"That this isn't a competition." Jade's eyes move between us. "You want him. I want him. He wants both of us."
"That's not—"
"Isn't it?" Jade looks at me. "Tell her. Tell her you haven't thought about it. About what I'd feel like. About what we'd feel like together."
I don't say anything. I can't.
Vivian sets down her glass. "You're disgusting."
"I'm honest." Jade stands, walks around the table. Stops behind her mother. "Something you've never been good at."
She reaches down, runs her hands over Vivian's shoulders. Vivian tenses but doesn't pull away.
"I've seen how you look at me," Jade continues. "Not just jealous. Something else."
"You're delusional."
"Am I?" Jade's hands slide lower. Over her mother's collarbones. Toward her breasts. "Then stop me."
Vivian grabs her wrist. Their eyes lock.
Something passes between them.
Vivian doesn't let go. But she doesn't push her away either.
"This is insane," Vivian says.
We're in her bedroom. All three of us. The door is locked.
"Probably," Jade agrees. She's already pulling off her shirt. "But when has that stopped you?"
"You're my daughter."
"And he's your boyfriend." Jade's bra joins her shirt on the floor. "And I want him. And you want to prove you're better than me." She spreads her arms. "So prove it."
I look at Vivian. She's breathing hard. Her hands are fists at her sides.
"If we do this," she says slowly, "we do it my way."
"Your way." Jade laughs. "Always the control freak."
"My way or the door." Vivian crosses to me, grabs my shirt, pulls me into a kiss. Deep. Possessive. "He's mine first. Then, if I decide to share, you get what I give you."
Jade's eyes flash. "Fine."
"Say it."
"He's yours first." The words are forced out. "I get what you give me."
Vivian smiles. "Good girl."
Vivian doesn't share easily.
She makes Jade watch for a long time. Watch her undress me. Watch her take me in her mouth. Watch me slide inside her, watch her ride me, watch her come.
Jade is on the chair in the corner, touching herself, not allowed to do more.
"Please," she says. "Mom, please—"
"Not yet."
"I need—"
"You need to wait." Vivian's rhythm doesn't falter. "You need to learn that some things are earned."
Jade whimpers. Her hand moves faster.
"Don't you dare come," Vivian warns. "Not until I say."
When Vivian finally lets her join, Jade is desperate.
She launches herself at me, kissing, touching, trying to make up for lost time. Vivian intercepts her.
"Slow down." She grabs Jade's chin, forces her to meet her eyes. "I told you. My way."
"Please, Mom—"
"On your knees."
Jade hesitates. Then sinks down.
Vivian pushes my shoulders until I'm sitting on the edge of the bed. Jade is between my legs, looking up.
"Show me what you can do," Vivian says. "Impress me."
Jade takes me in her mouth. Hungry. Eager.
Vivian watches. Corrects. "Slower. Use your tongue. Don't be so greedy."
It's surreal. A mother coaching her daughter on how to please me.
It's the hottest thing I've ever experienced.
They trade off.
Jade on me, Vivian directing. Vivian on me, Jade watching and learning. Neither of them gets tired. Neither of them gives up.
When I'm inside Jade for the first time, she moans — loud, shameless.
"Quieter," Vivian says. "The neighbors."
"Fuck the neighbors." Jade's hips roll. "He feels so good—"
"I know how he feels." Vivian runs a hand down her daughter's back. "Now prove you can handle it."
Jade proves it. Over and over.
Somewhere in the middle of the night, the competition blurs.
I'm not sure whose mouth is on me, whose hands are guiding me. They're pressed together, touching each other as much as they're touching me. Mother and daughter, bodies intertwined.
"I hate you," Jade gasps.
"I know." Vivian's voice is breathless. "I hate you too."
But they're holding each other. Competing and collaborating. Fighting and fucking.
When I finally come, they're both there. Both claiming victory. Neither winning.
Dawn.
I'm between them. Wrung out. Destroyed.
Jade is asleep, curled against my chest. Vivian is awake, watching me.
"That was..." I don't have words.
"Insane," she finishes. "Inappropriate. Wrong on every level."
"Yeah."
"And you loved it."
"Yeah."
She reaches over Jade, touches my face. "So did I."
"What happens now?"
"I don't know." She looks at her sleeping daughter. "She'll want more. She always wants more."
"And you?"
Vivian's smile is tired and complicated. "I want to win."
"You can't both win."
"No." She kisses me, soft. "But we can both keep trying."
Jade wakes slowly. Stretches. Realizes where she is and smiles.
"Round two?"
"Give him a minute," Vivian says.
"An hour," I correct. "Maybe two."
Jade laughs. "We'll see about that."
She climbs over me, presses against her mother. "Thanks for sharing, Mom."
"Don't get used to it."
"Too late." Jade's hand slides lower. "I'm already used to it."
Vivian catches her wrist. They stare at each other.
Then Vivian smiles — sharp, competitive.
"Fine. But I'm still winning."
"Dream on."
They're already competing again. Already using me as the scorecard.
Summer is just beginning.
Neither of them is going to stop.
And somehow, impossibly, I'm the one who wins.