It was menopause that finally brought Beverly a voracious sexual appetite.
High school, college, her sham marriage to a miserable cheating bastard. She had never understood why everyone else seemed to be a slave to sexual urges. Those tepid desires to copulate that could easily be dismissed with perfunctory masturbation. Such a fuss over nothing.
This was not 'nothing'. This disturbed her sleep. Disturbed her work. It was... disturbing.
Was this how other people felt all the time?
If Leonard were willing to discuss the issue in a rational manner, she would be able to express her newfound understanding for the concupiscence that had preoccupied her son throughout his childhood. But Leonard would never be able to discuss sexual arousal with his mother. An IQ of 173, the best education, a home-life specifically designed to foster intellectual growth... Why did Leonard feel the need to play the Philistine? But then, playing down his intellect was always Leonard's strategy to obtain social acceptance. It was certainly less worrisome than Cassandra's eating disorder. At least Michael was happy. He broke out in hives when Beverly suggested asking Leonard at the best man at his wedding but that was only normal. What younger sibling wasn't held hostage by the callous love withdrawl of an older sibling?
When she rolled on her side, her nose was assaulted by the smell of "man". Was it actaully a breach of ettiquette to masturbate in the bed of a friend or was that just her oppressive upbringing lingering in her subconcious?
Sheldon would not like to have someone engage in self-stimulation in his bed so Beverly opted for restraint. It was kind of him to sleep on the couch and offer his room. He had only made one such offer previously. Of course, Dr. Plimpton had betrayed his friendship by choosing to have sex with each of his male friends before finally inviting him to join in a "threesome" with her and Leonard. Poor Sheldon. Beverly looked at Sheldon and saw reassurance that she had made the right choice not to allow her children to advance through school too quickly. It was important to learn how to socialize with people of normal intellect and important to be subjected to the pain and humiliation of high school in order to build character. She was proud (for lack of a better word in the English language) that Leonard had refused a threesome but offered to leave and allow Sheldon an oppurtunity to copulate. It showed maturity and self-restraint. It showed he was capable of being loving to another male if not his own brother.
Perhaps a very cold glass of water.
Sheldon was asleep on the couch. His pale skin reflected the small amount of light in the room.
He was luminescent.
Glass of water.
Beverly brushed his short dark hair from his forehead.
He turned his head and mumbled "Goofy, no".
Such a strange boy. Strange and young and long limbed. Unlined face. Soft lips?
Beverly touched her lips to his.
That stung. It wasn't rational but it stung. Beverly was still a vibrant woman, apparently at her sexual peak.
She had kissed Sheldon while inebriated. For all his flirtations, he had been stiff and shocked at actual contact. Who has time to teach a boy how to satisfy a woman?
His neck was so long and slim. Pale and vulnerable. All of him was pale and vulnerable. That worked.
She slid her hand under the blanket, accross his chest and down his stomache. She slipped her hand inside his pajama top and felt a tee-shirt. Under the tee-shirt was flesh.
Two layers even to sleep? What a damaged little boy.
An uncomfortable thought but such discomfort could enhance sexual stimulation.
Tall and lean like her husband had been. Like her son, Michael. Uncomfortable. Her other son sleeping in his bedroom down the hall. Uncomfortable. Leonard could walk in at any moment. Very uncomfortable.
Beverly slide her hand into flannel pajama bottoms. She caressed the penis of a man young enough to be her while he slept. As he began to hardened, he mumbled again.
She stroked him with her right hand and stimulated herself with her left until...
"Jesus is watching!"
Beverly shushed Sheldon and pressed him to lie down, with her left hand. Her right hand never slowed.
"What... who... why... what are you doing?" hissed a frazzled and confused young young man.
Sensing things could soon turn ugly, and that worked, did that ever work, Beverly mounted him. He slid inside her so easily it was like a fantasy. The kind of fantasy she had never had when she was young.
"Leonard is ... On the couch? I eat here!"
She silenced him with a kiss, with her probbing tongue. His confusion and outrage were good. Otherwise he certainly would have climaxed by now. He had never directly admitted it, but Beverly was fairly certain he was a virgin.
She closed her eyes and rode him hard. It was so good. So very good and she was already so close.
A timid hand ghosted over her breast. Beverly squeezed the hand, demanding more stimulation. Wanting to feel wanted for the first time in decades. Another hand caressed her pubic hair. She helped him find and stimulate her clitoris. Yikes!
She watched Sheldon's face as he ejaculated. It was a ridiculous grimace but it worked. She soothed him with a few gentle kisses and reassurances that she had no communicable diseases before leaving him alone on the couch. She needed to clean up and pull herself together. And she needed sleep. She had a conference tomorrow and she did not want her eyes to be puffy. A last glance at a striken Sheldon filled her with a warm and almost maternal feeling.
"If you want to engage Leonard in coitus. Give him a few drinks and tell him you want to have sex with him and only him. Put the emphasis on his singularity. He is a middle child afterall."
Breakfast was awkward, the conference mediocre and the ride to the airport was endless. Beverly had not a single regret.
Sheldon was jumpy and twitchy even after dropping mom off at the airport. Leonard wondered what horrible secret he was keeping. Was Leonard's dad dead? Had his mom killed him? Was Michael going to win a Nobel Prize? He didn't want to know.
"Italian from Mamma Italia's for lunch?"
"Naturally, Leonard. It is Saturday."
"We should pick up a bottle of wine for lunch."