There was never any sexual innuendo in these calls or notes. I wanted her to feel comfortable with me. When I got to the point when we were talking or...exchanging notes more than twice a week I would tell her I was going to be in town in a week and ask if we could get together for coffee or a drink. If she agreed to that, I would try to see if I could change that to a dinner. Wherever we planned to meet I would make sure I showed up five or ten minutes late. I did this to make her a little more. "I'm your mother." But her words were a statement, not a rejection."No, you're Mrs. Bonnie Tyler, a poor neglected professor's wife who's decided to give a remedial course in body painting to one of her husband's engineering students," I answered as I started to lather up mom's back."You're incorrigible. And a very bad boy," she admonished even though she allowed me to continue. Actually we both were bad. An eighteen year old son and his thirty-six year old mother, both naked except for some. More

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