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A morning not to be forgotten.

That, apparently, meant hitting on Cinderella, taking the 'It's a Small World' ride until their brains bled out through their ears, and buying goofy stuffed toys. Fay didn't mind. She'd managed to combine it with a business trip to Orlando, knowing it was his first time on a plane and remembering just how damned nervous she'd been during her own first flight years ago.

Tom finally drifted into a fitful sleep. She watched him now. He'd grown into a beautiful young man, and in just a few years' time he was going to be devastating. Sleepy dark eyes, a broad chin and tousled black hair. His cheeks were smooth. He'd tried to grow a beard but, like his father - who'd left them years ago - he'd never look good with facial hair.

The plane shuddered - they'd hit a pocket of air or, perhaps, a UFO. Tom snapped awake and once more resumed his white-knuckled death grip on the arms of his seat.

"Relax," Fay soothed. "We must be halfway there by now. Just go back to sleep."

"Sleep?" There was a touch of hysteria in his hoarse whisper. "How the hell am I supposed to sleep when we're thirty-five thousand feet up in the air, and there's nothing between us and the Atlantic Ocean except a few metres of metal and plastic?"

"That's enough." Fay's voice was firm. "Calm down."

But even though he kept his mouth shut, she could see he wasn't going to calm. His lips were a thin white line in his face. His knuckles were so tight she could see the outline of cartilage.

He needs to let off some steam, Fay thought, glancing at him sideways. Her mind flashed back to a similar plane journey, years ago, when she and her mother - Tom's Nanna - had flown with her brother Peter. Thinking Fay had been asleep, Nanna had helped Pete relieve his stress by masturbating him under a blanket.

Fay hadn't thought about that in years. But it popped into her mind now, the memory as clear and fresh as if it had happened yesterday rather than over two decades ago. More than that - it brought with it a wave of arousal that made her press her legs together.

In the privacy of her mind she wondered now if her mother and brother had been sleeping together. The idea of it should have shocked her - should have revolted her - but she felt none of those emotions. Her mother had loved them both, showing it every day in the way she cared for them, the way she worked her fingers to the bone to provide. She'd scrimped and saved and gone without to send them both to University. It didn't seem wrong to her that they might have had a sexual relationship. It would have been a natural extension of their love. And what two consenting adults got up to was nobody's business but their own.

If they'd slept together then... were they still sleeping together now? Pete was two years older than her. Their mother was only in her sixties, still a fit, active and attractive woman.

Moisture pooled between her legs.

Could she touch her son the way her mother had touched Pete, so intimately? Could she cross that barrier?

She looked at his face. Tense. Drawn. Terrified. To calm her boy, to ease his fears, she would do anything.

When a trolley dolly - sorry, flight attendant - wandered past, Fay asked for a couple of blankets. The young woman smiled (revealing sparkling teeth and unconsciously thrusting her breasts forward) and returned with two red blankets. Fay thanked her and the woman departed.

"I know what you need," she murmured to her son, arranging the blankets over them both. This was how her mother had done it.

"Couple of Valium?" Tom half-joked between clenched teeth.

"I know a completely natural remedy."

Tom, perhaps catching something unusual in his mother's tone of voice, looked at her. The look turned to a startled stare when, under the blankets, her fingertips ghosted over his thigh.

"What...?"

"Shush," she said. "Do you trust me?"

"O-of course I do," he stammered.

Fay stroked his thigh. No way to take it back now, she thought as she cupped his crotch through his jeans, even if I wanted to - which I don't.

Tom stiffened in more ways than one.

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