I was in my 40s and I had a son--a stepson, presumably--in his 20s. He looked a little like Jude Law. His father was largely absent. We were quite wealthy and in the Latin American town we lived in, our family had financed the bus service, so when we got on the bus, a townsperson came up to me and lavished me with thanks, taking my arm, stroking and patting it.
My (step)son and I had a strange relationship. We were very attracted to one another and we walked around with an arm about each other's waist. At one point I heard someone mention the queer way we held one another, because it didn't look motherly. It looked like something else. We mostly kept ourselves in check but often we would look at each other and say things to each other that made our attraction known to ourselves. We also tried to keep it under constraints, and no move was made to consummate anything. I do recall seeing him laid out, nude, and I wanted to touch him--his light blonde hairs on his chest and belly--but I managed to just look and smile and wish I could touch him but did not.
A boat went by in a canal and my (step)son wondered aloud if they had stolen his idea--he had started a series of transportation that had gambling on board. It indeed looked like someone else had started that on a boat. We went back to our walk, holding each other about the waist. I distinctly remember circling my arms about his waist, clasping my hands together to hold him.
