Empty Nest: Part 6 (Patreon)

I down the rest of my wine in a gulp. Delicious!

“Wow!” I laugh. “I don’t know what that ‘honey’ is but…wow!”

Heather isn’t just smiling, she is absolutely beaming. “I am glad you like it.”

Setting down the glass I hurry to down a forkful of potatoes. Rich, butter, luscious potatoes! “Mmmmm!” Resting an elbow on the table Heather stops her eating just to watch me enjoy my supper. Excited for another experience I tear the drumstick from the thigh and snarf it down. “Ohhhh my God! Mmmm!”

“Mmmm.”

Already halfway into my breast I stop and look at Heather’s bright smile. “You’re not eating?”

“Oh, I am Elliot.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve got your answer. This is what we did with our honey boys. We would slip a little in their food or drink and watch them enjoy their evening. If we couldn’t have sex with them it was the next best thing.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Me neither.” She says. “A mystery of nature. All I can tell you is that I am enjoying this just as much as you are.”

“There’s no way this is natural.”

“Did you know that there is a pheromone in the honey of queen bees that excites the young worker bees overall desire to learn while at the same time diminishes aversive learning?”

Chewing on some wildly tasty green beans, a food I normally didn’t even care for that much, I ask. “Aversive learning?”

“Do not speak with your mouth full. It is rude.”

I swallow. “Sorry.”

“Aversive learning is how you know not to touch a hot burner or eat a bitter berry. One of evolution’s primary tactics of keeping us alive.”

“Oh. Then how do the worker bees…?”

“Survive?” She grins. “Well they have a queen to look after them, don’t they? As long as they are productive little workers everything works out fine.”

I laugh. “And what’s this got to do with your ‘honey’? I’m not sure if you looked in a mirror lately Heather…”

“Mrs. Hutton.”

“…Mrs. Hutton, but you’re not a bee.”

She giggles. “I was just making the point that nature is vast and mysterious. All sorts of crazy things are possible.”

“Mmm. Yeah. Crazy.” I gobble down some more chicken. “Damn that’s good. Seriously. What did you put in this food?

She sighs. “Nothing.”

“That was a drug, wasn’t it? Come on, you gave it to me you can at least tell me. Mmmm!”

“Do you feel high?”

“Um…” I pause. “…no. No. I just feel…kinda good. But not in a funny way. And everything tastes great!”

“It affects direct contact senses. Anything requiring touch. It heightens the good and eases the bad. Sight, smell and hearing aren’t effected. Taste and feel mostly. It even has some healing properties.”

“Feel?” I stop and turn my attention from my taste buds toward the rest of my body. Just like with the chardonnay as I concentrate I feel the sensation open up to me. The cheap cotton blend of the pajamas felt like the softest feather down against my skin and that little persistent ache in my back from bad posture was still there but…in the background. There was no alcohol haze or marijuana buzz or anything at all that would indicate an altered state of consciousness. I felt sharp, clear, and completely myself. “I don’t know what that stuff is but you should bottle it and sell it.”

“That would be a very bad idea.” She snickers. “Though I do add just a touch to my candles and soaps I sell.”

She adds her pussy juice, as she claimed it was, into products that she sells? Gwyneth Paltrow eat your heart out! Was that bar in the shower that I’d used part of her special line? Probably. Weird! “You make candles and soaps?”

“I own a shop not too far from here.” She says. “All local crafts and that kind of thing. I’ve got a little scented soap and candle display there. It’s not much but it keeps the roof over my head. Mostly.”

“Um, if you don’t mind me saying…”

“Go ahead.”

“What happened to the big house and…all that?” I ask. “Not that this isn’t nice.”

“You flatter me.”

“I always got the impression you and Mr. Hutton were doing pretty well for yourselves.”

She lets out a laugh, but there was no humor in it. “It was all an illusion. We were way beyond our means and living on credit. Even I didn’t know how bad it was. When Alexander passed on he left me with a mountain of debt. A mountain I am still not quite out from under.” She smiles. “But I’m almost there. Another year or two at most barring any major expense.”

“Oh. I had no idea.”

“Mmm. Alexander tried to give me the life that he thought I wanted. The man gave me his whole heart…to its last beat.” She sighs. “He was a very foolish man.” Her eyes drift to the picture of her family on the wall behind me. “And I was a very selfish woman. He was a lot older than me. Obesity. High blood pressure. Drinking. A terrible diet of take out dinners and fast food. A family history of heart disease. The signs were all right there. But I was blinded by love and…lust.” Her voice fades and she sits silent a moment. “I was not a good wife for Alexander.”

“I’m, um, sorry to hear that.”

With Mr. Hutton’s memory hanging heavy around us we sit for a few minutes in an awkward silence. As we do I continue to marvel at the nice feeling of the pajamas rubbing oh so subtly against my skin as I moved. Without underwear to gird my loins that lovely sensation was twice as intense at the sensitive knob of my dick.

“Oh!”

A knowing smirk brightens the gloom as she says. “You’ll probably get an erection. It’s normal.”

With a blush I try to rearrange my pajamas, which only makes things worse! My chubby was swiftly turning into a full fledged boner. “Ahem!”

“God, you are cute.” She continues to watch me as the rest of her meal grows colder by the second. “Don’t be embarrassed. This is all quite normal.”

“Normal? This is anything but normal. Nothing about tonight is normal.”

“I suppose not.” She says. “I shouldn’t have told you anything. You’re over thinking this.”

“You’re seriously not going to tell me what this is?”

“I told you what it was.”

“Is it like…related to Ecstasy or Viagra or…?”

“Elliot!” She snaps, causing me bolt to attention. “I do not appreciate being called a liar. I did not drug you.”

“Sorry.”

Her tone softening she says. “Less questions. Just…enjoy it. Okay? You’ve had a hard day. Take this little treat while you can. Life is better when you can enjoy the small pleasures that come along.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

Taking up her knife and fork she at last returns to eating. Slicing a bit of chicken she eats it down. Between bites she quips. “If you want a real treat you should try playing with yourself.”

“Mrs. Hutton!”

“You’ll want to do it soon though. The effect of pre-, erm, honey doesn’t last long.”

“Pre-honey?”

“Do it or don’t.” She shrugs. “It’s your loss.”

My dick sure as hell wanted to follow her advice but my bigger head won the day. I wasn’t about to run off from the dinner table to tug one out while my host sat here and ate. And the mere fact she had brought it up at all had me on edge. Everything surrounding this ‘honey’ was so fucking peculiar.

And so we sit and enjoy a very nice meal together. It was simple fare but with my heightened sense of taste it was better than any five star restaurant. We chat about trifles, the recent weather and such, with Heather doing most of the talking. She keeps things light. After the shit day I’d had and the stressful day I had coming up light was just what I needed right now. More than once I catch her staring at me though she would quickly look away and return to her meal if I ever stared back. There was no more licking or talk of honey boys, just a lovely time between budding friends.

By the time dessert is served, a small bowl of chocolate ice cream, the tent in my pajamas had lowered and the feels and flavors I experienced returned to normal. It had happened so gradually I wasn’t even sure when the effect had ended. Just as I hadn’t felt a high then neither do I feel a hangover or drop now. There was nothing at all that indicated I was coming down off of anything. I felt…normal. As I thought back over the meal I found myself doubting my own memory. Did the wine really taste that sweet? Had the pajamas really felt that soft? I don’t know. In retrospect it seemed just a likely it had all been in my head. Perhaps the licking of her finger had been some sort of hypnotic trigger? Nah, that’s ridiculous.

The only thing that I did know for sure was that the home-cooked food and the friendly company made me feel good. Really good. It felt wholesome and homey and…right. I think back on Blair and I’s meals together. Rushed. Microwaved or delivered. Each of us with our own ready-to-eat meal and usually eaten separately at our computers or across from each other as we looked our phones. Not once had I even thought about my phone as I dined with Heather. Even ignoring the outstanding flavors I’d experienced and including my host’s eccentricities, that was one of the best damn dinners I had enjoyed in a very long time.

After pushing her bowl away Heather reaches over and rubs my back, the first time she’d touched me since I had her honey. I’d almost forgotten how touchy-feely she could be.

“Would you mind clearing the table and doing the dishes, Elliot?” She says. “I’m going to go switch your laundry. And I’ve got some work I’d like to get done tonight.”

“Making candles?”

“Carving soap actually.” She says. “My workshop’s downstairs. I’ve got three extremely intricate lotus flowers that I need to have done before morning. I’d appreciate not being disturbed.”

“Uh, sure.”

Her hand migrates from my back to my shoulder, still rubbing. “Did you enjoy being my honey boy?”

“Um…” I still had so many questions! “…I guess? Did you?”

“Yes. You were wonderful.”

“Um…can I…have some more?”

“No, Elliot. That is all you get.”

“Oh. But…I wanted to try…” The blush returns to my cheeks. “…what you suggested?”

She laughs. “You missed that chance I’m afraid.”

“Oh.”

“Mm.” Heather ponders something for a few seconds. Her hand slowly runs across my shoulder until her fingers are playing with my collar. “Didn’t I say I wasn’t running a charity here?”

“Uh…”

“You want some honey you’ll have to earn it.” Focused on my top button as she fiddles with it she says. “Tomorrow, if you do everything that I told you to, maybe I’ll give you one more taste.” She hurries to add. “Just one more.”

“Um…”

“Show me that my faith in you was well placed.” Her hand glides down my chest as she looks up to hold me in her chestnut gaze. “Show me that inside of that down and out ragamuffin that I saw moping by the park there’s a man who still believes in himself. Show me that you are ready to take on your next challenge. I want to see that young man that I saw on the graduation stage with dreams in his eyes and the whole world before him.” Patting my heart she concludes. “You show me that and you will earn your honey.”

“Uhhh…yes, Ma’am?”

“But do not ask for more.” She says firmly. “Promise me.”

“I…promise.”

“Even if I offer again you will say no. Okay?”

“Uh, okay?”

“Good man.” She pulls me into another soft, enveloping hug. My body acting on its own I give myself over to the embrace. I didn’t know anything about the addictive properties of honey but these hugs were something a guy could get used to. Squeezing me tight she whispers in my ear. “Don’t give up on yourself, Elliot. Keep working. You are worth it. Things will get better for you. I promise. It might take some time, but…” Backing away she cups my cheek in her soft palm and looks deep into my eyes. “…everything is going to be okay. You’ll see.”

“Ummmmm!” I try to think of something to say but my emotional circuitry was going haywire. She was tapping into feelings I hadn’t touched in years.

Her warm smile returns. Patting my cheek she says. “Sorry. I overstepped.” She chuckles. “I’m a mom. I can’t help myself sometimes.”

After a shuddering breath I whisper. “It’s okay.”

“You’ll do the dishes?”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Good.” She kisses my cheek and sneaks in another sniff. “I will see you in the morning.”

Part 7