"Wow, it's... it's... really nice," my mother Beth breathed in wonder. She was standing in the doorway of a spacious, single-room log cabin. This was to be our private retreat for the week. I could hardly wait to see what she was seeing.

I gently edged my way around Beth and roughly placed a heavy cooler full of food on the floor in the doorway. A quick scan of the room brought a playful smile to my face. I cocked an eyebrow. "I can see why they called it the 'Honeymoon House,” I stated flatly. I could feel my mother roll her eyes as she snorted indignantly. She gave me a little poke in the ribs to display her objection to my ruining the moment. I chuckled, but quickly added, “Haha, no… I mean it… It is nice. I can see why Dad wanted to take you here.”

Honeymoon House was my late father, Beth's husband Joe's plan for the week of their 20th anniversary. He had done some of the electrical work on the cabin about six years back when it was being renovated. Apparently he was so charmed by the private, tucked away location and beautiful construction of this quiet retreat that he worked out a deal with the owner. For a portion of his work invoice Joe had put down a deposit for a week-long booking. That had been before his a tragic car accident almost two years ago. Beth and I had buried my father and picked up our lives again, only to receive a phone call two weeks ago from the owner of Honeymoon House. The owner hadn't even been aware that Joe had passed, and merely wanted to check in with his would-be tenant for the upcoming vacation. And just like that, in a romantic gesture from the past my mother had been given this beautiful, thoughtful gift from her late husband. Beth hadn't seen any other men since being widowed, and since she and I were quite close it seemed only fitting to her that she share this week's vacation with me. This would be our chance to celebrate Joe's memory and take a break from our busy lives. Beth was an artisanal sculptor and painter, and I was in my second year of culinary college where I happened by good fortune to be taking this week off for spring break anyway.

Beth stood for a moment in silence. When she turned to face me, there was a little bit of a tear in her eye. I pulled my arm around her comfortingly, and we stood together for a moment. Beth finally let out a little sob that turned quickly into a sad laugh. She wiped her eye and smiled bravely. “Oh Jesse, I wish he could be here now. He'd be so proud of you,” my mother chuckled again. “Haha, oh well... Let's not dwell on sad thoughts right now. We're here to celebrate your father and enjoy our romantic weekend together. You've got some big shoes to fill, young man.”

I gave Beth one last squeeze and lifted the cooler again with a demonstrative grunt. “Well, I've got a ton of amazing, meals planned, and don't worry, Mum. Nothing but the most refined, most romantic fare for my young, gorgeous bride.” I could feel a playfully irritable poke in the ribs coming my way, and out of practiced reflex, I twisted off to the side, narrowly missing Beth's incensed protest.

I went to work stocking the fridge with various perishable food items, then went back to the car to carry an equally impressive box of canned and dry goods. I admit, I had gotten a little carried away with the food supplies. There was probably enough food to feed a family of four or five for the same amount of time. However, the moment I heard the phrase “fully-equipped kitchen” from the mouth of the owner I realized that there was an opportunity here not only to hone my cooking skill while away from the college kitchen, but also to have an ongoing project this week that would fill up my time and keep us well-indulged during our retreat.

Beth took this opportunity to move our suitcases and backpacks into cabin. She then went around back and got the propane heater going, using the instructions provided to us by the owner. The guy who rented out Honeymoon House was an older, affluent gentleman who lived in town. He had plans to be away this week for some personal reason, and so he had set the place up for us in advance, and simply asked that we pack out our garbage to deter animals, and turn off the propane before we left. Essentially, Beth and I had the mountain to ourselves, which we couldn't have been happier for.

In about an hour, the sun had gone down and I was beginning to prepare dinner for Beth and myself. For her part, my mother had built a cheerful wood fire that crackled and flickered merrily in the classic old stone fireplace that stood across the width of the room from the entrance. Around the fireplace was an impressive collection of fur rugs and heavy blankets that covered the wooden floorboards, making the den area comfortable. I got the vague impression that vast nest of furs and soft fabrics was meant to evoke or enhance the occupants' inclinations towards pleasures of the flesh. Most of the cabin's other furnishing and decorations didn't even attempt to be so subtle. There was no overhead lighting except in the kitchen, and instead there were a handful lamps distributed generously throughout the rest of the space. Three of these lamps were a matched set of tastefully erotic art deco. Each was a similar but unique pair of dark porcelain figures, sculpted in vague detail, but pretty obviously depicting men and women naked, and wrapping their bodies around each other under a handsome, pink silk lamp shade. Other furnishings were similarly sensuous- plush velvet loveseats and armchairs as well as one large velvet couch in crimson, all with dark carved wood framing the beautiful upholstery. A fancy cotton table cloth covered the small dining table just between the kitchen and the den area. Elsewhere, other sheer, red-spectrum fabric hangings decorated the bare wooden logs that made up the walls of the cabin. Two old-fashioned metal radiators lined the walls near the front entrance and were painted a lustrous gold color, presumably put there to supplement the fireplace in distributing heat to the entire space. Across the den from the kitchen was the largest bed I had ever seen. It covered nearly the width of the cabin floor against the wall. The bed frame seemed to be comprised of huge wooden timbers split in half and lying parallel with the cut sides facing up. The mattress was easily more than a foot high, and adorning it was a giant, thick red duvet with an absurd number of lacy throw pillows laying against a tall headboard constructed similarly with parallel split logs, cut sides facing into the room. Above the bed, there was a beautiful, octagonal stain-glass window framed expertly into the log walls. The image depicted in the window was a heart between scarlet letters spelling the words “Honeymoon” above, and “House” below, set into a teal-turquoise background. The cabin's design was so over the top cheesy that it was impossible to take seriously, otherwise I might have felt a little awkward.

Beth had perched herself upon an armchair with one foot tucked up between herself and the cushion. She held a book open in one hand, while her other hand alternated periodically turning pages, resting atop the plush red armrest, and plucking her glass of red wine from the side table for the occasional sip. A turntable sat on a nearby desk and an old jazz record spun in a lazy, slightly warped circle, filling the room with light, classy musical ambiance. I added fresh-chopped garlic and other herbs to the vegetable curry that I was making. The smell of the wood fire blended with the various spices and I sipped my own wine, allowing myself to sink deep into an extremely pleasurable assortment of sensory stimuli. While I worked to prepare the meal, I found myself fixating on my mother as she sat in front of the fire. I enjoyed watching her in this element. Beth was a gorgeous woman, and at 44 she had not lost any of the beauty that had been bestowed to her from youth. If anything, her age and maturity seemed to enhance her loveliness, turning radiance into sensuality, and litheness into voluptuousness. The soft, romantic lighting of the room served only to accentuate Beth's femininity and shapeliness. She had long blond hair cascading in thick curls all the way down to the small of her back, around her shoulders, and over her large, heavy breasts, contained modestly within a loose-fitting white turtleneck. Her plump, womanly legs rose up and up to meet her skirt which hugged tightly over her wonderful curves, and she had a lot of curves to show off. Beth stood about 6'2 and weighed well over 200 pounds. She was more than a half foot taller than me at 5'7. My dad had been even shorter, about 5'4, and so at 20 years of age I had landed between the two of my parents in height. Being very slender and weighing 115 pounds, I usually felt pretty small next to the large, stunning blond beauty whom I referred to as “Mum.”

As I was spying on her, my mother brought her wine glass up to her lips once more. I followed the motion of the glass all the way up to her face, and suddenly we connected, locking gazes for a brief moment. Beth gave me the slightest of smirks, and wiggled her bare toes mischievously. Her eyes twinkled as she proceeded to tip the viscous red liquid back, and she took a deep sip from her wine before returning to her book. This is what I loved most about Beth. As attractive as she was, I always felt like she was naturally sexy and powerful without being overbearing. She expressed her charisma and her charm as unselfishly and genuinely as she knew how. However, underneath my mother's mild and coquettish exterior was an intelligent, ravishingly sensuous woman with an open mind and an open heart. We had leaned on each other a lot in the last two years since my dad died, and we were continually surprising and impressing each other as our relationship deepened and more of our internal strengths and character were revealed. Beth was more than just my mother. She was my friend, my companion in life. Really, the only family we had left was each other. I trusted her, enjoyed her company, and once in a while I liked to tease her, offend her mild manners, and push the limits of her comfort zone.

That was just what I was thinking when I spoke up.

“Alright, I'm just going to let that simmer for a few minutes,” I piped up, trying to sound casual while I tapped my stir spoon on the edge of the wok. “The rice is ready, so we should be all set for dinner pretty shortly here.” I sauntered into the den area, looking for a place to sit near Beth. Instead of settling on a chair or the couch, I opted to kneel in front of her. Beth put her book away and beamed down at me adoringly, clearly approving of my work in the kitchen. I placed one hand on her bare knee and gave it a little squeeze. “How are you doing? Do you need anything? How are you feeling about this trip so far?”

Beth clasped my hand in her larger one and looked earnestly into my eyes. She softened her gaze a little, and I felt for a moment like she might tear up again, but she spoke without her voice cracking, “I'm doing very well, Jesse. Thank you for making dinner- it smells amazing. I'm...” she paused, fighting against the waterworks a bit, “I'm sure your father would have loved to be here, but… I'm glad I'm getting to share this week with you. Even if...” Beth gestured vaguely around the room and a small laugh escaped her plump, pink lips, “Haha, oh dear… Even if the setting is a little… Inappropriate.”

I wrinkled my nose and returned a friendly grin. “So you agree, probably like… dozens of people have had sex in this cabin bef- Oooffphm... hey!” I yelped in protest as my mother rolled her eyes and pushed her foot into my face in indignation over my rude comment.

“Cut it out you little… Haha… Jesse, please!” Beth tried to nudge me again but I sprang backwards a step or so, narrowly avoiding her beautiful bare foot this time.

I tried to resettle myself into a kneeling position, while relaxing my grinning face and regaining composure. After a second I was able to continue, more seriously, “You know, I wasn't sure I was going to ask, Mum, but…” I paused for a moment, and took a deep breath. It would be best if I simply came out and said it, so I did just that. “I know you've tried ecstasy before,” I blurted. Beth's eyes widened perceptibly. I was well aware that she had been a bit of a wild, free spirit back in her art school days. My dad had told me some stories. I continued, “I want you to know, that if it interests you… I've brought some…”

Beth did not immediately reply, but the look on her face was troubled, dubious. I could tell she was trying to find the best way to frame her objection in a way that wasn't a knee-jerk response of disapproval. After a moment, she demanded quietly, “Where did you get ecstasy?”

I remained perfectly calm and leveled in my reply. “It belonged to Dad.” Beth's eyes widened again. “I found it in a box of his stuff,” I added.

Beth was dumbfounded. I could tell that the fact that the ecstasy belonged to Joe somehow affected the prospect of using it. She was still not convinced though. “Show me,” she demanded. I quickly hopped up to my feet and trotted over to my backpack. I unzipped a small pouch and pulled out a nondescript pill canister. I spun around and returned to Beth's side, carefully opened the container, and pulled out a small plastic bag. Without opening the bag, I held the contents up to the light. Inside the bag were a few dozen small capsules, each containing a fine white powder. A tiny red heart had somehow been stenciled or stamped onto the gleaming surfaces of each capsule. Beth's face twisted in a mix of several different, competing emotions. But the one thing I knew for sure, based on her reaction was that she recognized the pills. Score! I hadn't been 100% sure of what these pill were until the moment I watched my mother inspect them. I felt a little bad springing this on her all of a sudden, but now that I had done it, I felt my excitement rise by the second. She might actually go for it, I thought. I could be taking ecstasy with my mum, my best friend…

Beth licked her thick, moist lips and exhaled heavily. I got the feeling that she probably wanted to come up with an excuse to be “responsible,” but what was there to be responsible about? We had the whole place to ourselves, lots of food, a beautiful woodland cabin property to enjoy, and it had been Dad's gift to us! I could tell Beth was thinking the same thing. My mother shook her head ruefully, her cheeks blushing a pretty scarlet color. “Good gracious, Jesse… What… What would you father think?” she stammered.

I put my hand on Beth's once again and looked at her genuinely. As gently as I could, I replied, “I think maybe Dad got these pills for us. If he were here, I think he'd have taken one already. Now, I don't want to pressure you into anything, Mum. I'm just curious to try them, that's all. If it's going to bother you, I'll put them away, or even give them back to you to hang on to till… till I'm older, I guess. But…” I cocked an eyebrow, “I'm thinking this may just be the safest, coziest, most loving setting I will ever have for the chance to try them.” I handed the bag of pills to Beth. I stood up as a gesture to let her know that I had spoken my piece and had entrusted her in deliberating it fairly. Not wanting to pressure her, I walked back to the kitchen, pausing on the way to flip over the record which had stopped playing. Music filled the air once more, and I practically trotted over to the stove top where I turned off the burner and started plating the food and grabbing the cutlery. I was almost finished setting the table with my back turned to Beth when I suddenly felt her gentle touch upon my shoulder. I turned slowly to look into my mother's beautiful face, glittering with anticipation. As soon as she had my attention she pressed a small white pill to her wet, pink tongue and slid it slowly upwards into her mouth. Without taking her eyes off me, Beth leaned forward, brushing into me and sliding her hand around behind me. I smirked at her deliberately dramatic gesture, like she was trying to intimidate me by demonstrating to me this activity would have profound consequences. Beth grabbed the open bottle of wine on the table behind me, and slowly leaned back out of my space while putting the bottle up to her lips. She turned her eyes politely to the ceiling before tipping her head back and taking a long, loud glug. I was actually a little impressed. I cocked an eyebrow and joked, “Wow, Mum… I knew there was a wild woman in there somewhere.”

Beth scowled, but the corners of her lovely mouth betrayed her supressed glee. “Shut up,” she growled. My mother reached out with her other hand and held a second pill up to my face. “Take your pill, already. I'm getting hungry.”

With that, I winked and opened my mouth. Beth pushed the pill onto my waiting tongue, and just like her I swallowed it. Next, Beth pushed the wine bottle into my hand, which I also accepted. I tilted my head in salute and toasted, “To dad! Thanks for an awesome vacation.” I tipped the bottle back and finished it with a couple of deep gulps.

Finally my mother cracked a smile and brushed her hand up against my cheek. “You're your father's son,” she beamed ruefully. She quickly pulled out the ornate, plush chair opposite me and sat down in front of her plate. “Alright now, let's see how well this dinner holds up to the occasion. I'm famished.”