Mountain Meltdown

The weather was amazing — dry and not a cloud in sight. It was the least that mother nature could do for us after taunting us for during the recent months of lockdown. No longer. June had arrived and the number of new cases dwindled into the single digits.

Everyone I knew had made grand plans for reopening day — parties, booze, and babes. Not me. My mandatory break from society hadn't been very enjoyable. In the first week, my girlfriend Amber broke up with me. She claimed that I "wasn't a good match" but I heard through the grapevine that she just wanted to bang someone guilt-free during isolation, seeing as how I was stuck on the other side of the country.

After all that, I wasn't particularly in the partying mood like other college guys on extended spring break. I wanted the opposite of being indoors all day long. I wanted nature. I wanted open skies. I wanted fresh air.

Fortunately for me, my mother works as a manager at the Mt. Blue Lodge, a quaint little hotel sitting at just over eight-thousand feet. They weren't officially open for business yet but my mom had to be there to oversee the preparations.

That meant the hiking trails were devoid of human presence. No loud tourists, only yours truly. I couldn't imagine a more perfect outing.

"Are you excited?" Mom asked in the parking lot.

"Yup."

"I haven't seen you smile since..." she started and then stopped.

"It's okay. You can say her name."

"...Amber," she finished with a frown.

"I haven't felt like smiling. But today is a beautiful day."

"That it is. Warmer than expected."

It was only nine in the morning but it was already a sweltering ninety degrees. I was dressed for the occasion, in shorts and a t-shirt, though the moment I slung the backpack around my shoulders I felt beads of sweat form.

"You should have worn something lighter," I said.

The Mt. Blue Lodge uniform consisted of ankle-length, black pants, a black wool blouse, and a mountain blue blazer. Despite being a healthy and fit woman in her late, late *ahem* thirties, she was already sweating.

"Nah, the entire lodge is air-conditioned," she said. "I'd rather suffer thirty minutes of heat than eight hours of chills."

The thirty minutes she referred to was the trip from the parking lot up to the lodge via cable car. Built in 1981, and somewhat of a tourist attraction by itself, it supplied the mountain with business. Two hotels (though mom's was by far the better), a couple of restaurants, and a dozen different sports clubs made up "Plateau Blue."

Despite not being open for business, a sizable group of people was waiting in line, many of them wearing the black and blue of Mt. Blue Lodge. I wasn't the only "tourist." A handful of men and women in their fifties wearing backpacks and carrying walking sticks were ahead of us. They took up two entire cable car cabins — maximum occupancy of six.

Since there was no one behind us, we got a cabin all to ourselves.

"Oh, Jesus," Mom groaned.

As soon as I stepped into the cabin I realized why. It was a fucking oven. The cabin consisted of a sturdy metal frame with a solid floor and ceiling. Two brown faux leather benches were situated in the front and back of the cabin. The rest was glass.

The June sun had been nuking the metal containers for several hours already. The air was sweltering and the automatic door closing behind us felt like someone putting a lid on the frying pan. Immediately, I began to sweat.

With a jerk, the cabin started to move, undulating back and forth, suspended by only a small, half-inch cable. Not that I was worried; it wasn't my first time on a cable car.

"Open all the windows," Mom said.

Easier said than done. All the windows were safety windows, designed to ensure nobody accidentally fell out of the cabin. A total of four five-inch-tall slits, two on either side, flipping inward. Even with all of them opened as much as possible, it didn't help much.

"You think we're going to survive?" I quipped.

"I hope so," Mom laughed. "We were supposed to have air conditioning retrofitted earlier this year but, well, that didn't happen."

We sat down on opposite sides of the cabin so both of us could have as much leg space as we wanted. Mom kicked off her shoes and put her feet up on my bench. I contemplated taking off my shoes as well but they were sturdy climbing shoes and it was only a short trip.

The cabin stopped ascending so the next set of passengers could board.

"Now that I have you trapped here with me, how are you really doing?"

"Really, Mom?" I groaned.

"You're putting on a brave face but I can sense you're still hurting."

"I'm not," I sighed.

The cabin started moving again, rocking us back and forth.

"I never liked her, you know," Mom said as if that settled the matter.

"It's okay. Really. I've had nothing but time to deal with it."

"That's good. I'm glad."

My mom and I have always had a pretty tight relationship. My father left almost a decade ago when I was eleven years old. At the time I had no idea what was happening, it wasn't until years later that I found out he had been cheating on her. Ever since I haven't spoken a word to him either.

It helped that we lived in a fairly big, three-story home. I had the top floor all to myself and she occupied the second floor. The ground floor was a communal space. Some of my friends teased me for still living at home but to be honest, it was more like living with a roommate than a mother.

The cabin stopped again.

Opening her purse, Mom got out a piece of paper and began to fan herself. My back clung to the faux leather bench. The cabin air was permeated with her floral-scented perfume. I let out a sigh and looked at my phone.

"Twenty-five more minutes," I said.

The cabin started again.

The first time I rode in the cable car, I was twelve years old and everything had been incredibly exciting. With my nose glued to the window, I watched the world grow smaller beneath me. At the time, it had been an awe-inspiring experience. Now, however, all I wanted was to finally be out of the heat again. At least outside there was a breeze.

The cabin stopped and started again. A seemingly never-ending ascension to the mountain. Stop. Go. Stop. Go. I closed my eyes and remembered the last time I was with Amber. She was traveling home the next morning so she could spend the lockdown at her parents' home and we were making passionate goodbye love.

The cabin stopped, started, stopped, started, and then stopped again in quick succession. Our car was left shaking back and forth.

"What was that?" I asked, opening my eyes.

Rivers of sweat were rolling down my mother's face. She was frantically fanning herself with little success. The mountain blue blazer laid on the bench next to her.

"I don't know. Probably nothing."

Thirty seconds passed. A minute. One and a half minutes. Probably nothing turned into probably something as the cabin did not start moving again for two minutes. I got out of my seat and looked up ahead. The people in the car in front of us were all moving about, looking around the windows.

In some parts of the ride, the car was fairly close to the ground. Unfortunately, we were stuck thirty feet above the ground, right over an outcropping of angular rocks. Jumping out was not an option. If the cable snapped, we were fucked.

"It's gonna be fine," Mom reassured me as if she read my thoughts.

"You don't know that."

"But I can find out," she said and rummaged around her purse for her phone.

According to my own phone, I had zero bars — though there was a signal for emergency services. At least that was an option. Mom didn't seem to have an issue. She raised the phone to her ear.

"Hey, Clive, it's Zoe."

...

"No, no, I'm calling about something else. Listen, I'm in the cable car right now and—"

...

"It is? When will it be—"

A deep scowl grew on her face the longer she listened.

"Are you serious? Please tell me you're not—"

...

"Awesome," she said, dripping with acid. "Just awesome. Thanks, Clive."

"What happened?" I asked.

"Motherfucker," Mom cursed and lowered her phone. She took a deep breath. "Sorry. Sorry. Turns out maintenance hasn't been up here the entire lockdown either."

"That doesn't sound good."

"The motor broke down. They don't know why or at least Clive doesn't. They already called it in and are just waiting on some guy to arrive."

"How long is that going to take?"

"I have no idea. Could be hours."

"Seriously?" I groaned. "We're going to get baked alive."

"It's not that bad," Mom attempted, though her body said otherwise. Despite wearing an all-black ensemble, large pools of sweat were clearly visible under her breasts and pits. Not to mention her face. The rivulets of sweat turned into rivulets of makeup.

"Mom, your makeup is, uh..."

Sighing, Mom pulled out a small hand mirror. She only looked for a split second before pulling out some wet wipes. Tearing open the wrapper, she began to clean up her face. I wondered what my own face must have looked like.

Taking my t-shirt, I dabbed at my own face. It came away wet. The heat was just too much. Thinking quickly, I pulled my t-shirt over my head, stood up, and stepped out of my shoes.

"What are you doing?" Mom asked, surprised.

"It's too warm," I said, unbuckling my shorts.

Wearing just a pair of maroon boxers, I sat back down. It was a much-needed improvement. The temperature was still sweltering but it was more like a day at the beach than a round in the microwave. Even a faint movement of air was noticeable on my bare skin.

"You're gonna get a sunburn," Mom commented, still cleaning herself.

"You can't get a sunburn behind windows."

"Really?" she asked, looking up in surprise.

"Yeah. You can only get a sunburn from UV light and glass filters out UV light."

"Huh. I never knew that. Guess that college education is really paying off."

"I learned that one on YouTube."

"You kids and your gizmos," Mom scoffed.

It was just a joke. My mom was actually really good with tech, though admittedly most of her knowledge was for devices or programs that no longer existed. In one of my baby photos, she was proudly holding up the Palm Pilot that she documented my baby diary in.

"There, all done," she proclaimed and replaced her hand mirror in the bag.

"Still beautiful," I said.

"Thank you, my darling."

It was true. My mom may or may not have been the "hot mom" among my friends when I was growing up. I took it as a good sign since everyone kept telling me that I looked just like her. I never saw it until Amber photoshopped a picture of me on my mom's face. Both of us burst into laughter and for the next month, she kept calling me "momma's boy."

"Why the long face?" Mom asked.

"I just remembered something," I said and put on a smile.

"About her?"

"Yeah."

"That sucks. She's an idiot."

"I know," I sighed.

"With everything starting to reopen, you'll find someone new soon."

"Mmmhm," I murmured.

"Sorry. I guess I just don't like seeing you hurt like that."

"It's okay. Really. It happens."

"Yup, it sure does," Mom said in the tone of voice she always adopted when talking about my father.

"On the bright side, I'm actually excited to return to school for the first time in my life."

"I thought you were taking online classes."

"I am but it's just not the same as being on campus. Nobody to hang out with after class. No lunch breaks."

"No commute."

"It's not all bad. Just tiring."

"I know what you mean. I'm gonna have a very busy day today but I'm looking forward to it."

"What are you going to do all day?"

"Turns out that some of the windows were left open to air out the rooms when everything shut down."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. At least three rooms have water damage, from what I've been told. I'm gonna have to assess the damage and organize fixing it. I'll probably spend all day on the phone."

"That sounds awful."

"Sounds fun to me."

"I never understood how you like talking on the phone that much."

"And I don't know why you hate it so much. Maybe you need to start dating secretaries next."

"Why when I have you?" I chuckled.

The cabin filled with laughter. Like I said, my mom and I get along pretty damn well and even though I've had a number of opportunities to move out, I enjoyed living with her. She stopped treating me like a little kid a long time ago — around the time I got my driver's license.

Leaning back, she put her feet up on my bench again. She grabbed her pant leg by the knee and pulled it up, exposing her lower legs.

"You can just take it off," I said.

"No," she replied curtly.

"Trust me, it's so much nicer. The heat isn't even that bad and you can feel the breeze."

"You're lucky you're a guy."

"What does that have to do with anything? We're stuck in a cabin halfway up the mountain, not in a restaurant downtown. Who's gonna care?"

"I'm pretty sure the people in the next cabin can see us."

I turned around to look up at the next cabin. Visible were the backs of three heads, two balding, and the third with gray hair. If they turned around, they could probably see us. That was a big if.

"I doubt they have room to even turn around. Look at them wedged in there."

"God, I am glad I'm not in there," Mom said.

That was the end of the conversation. Mom rested her head against the window and closed her eyes. I looked at my phone. We had been stuck for only ten minutes. It felt more like ten hours. I opened the Sudoku app and continued the game I started in the car.

"You got any water on you?" Mom asked a couple of minutes later.

Of course, I did. I grabbed my backpack and pulled out the sixty-four ounce insulated water bottle, filled with fresh water that morning.

"We can fill it up again at the lodge," Mom said and took several massive gulps.

"You're gonna get heatstroke if you keep this up," I said.

"I'm fine."

"You're like a human faucet. What's the big deal? It's like wearing a bikini."

"Okay, fine," Mom snapped and set the bottle down. She rose to her feet and started unbuttoning her blouse.

Looking away, I wondered why she was making such a big fuss. It wasn't like I hadn't seen her in a bikini before.

The sky was still devoid of clouds, which seemed far less of a good sign now than it did earlier. I would have given at least fifty bucks for clouds to block out the sun. Further up on the mountain, the cable cars were flanked by tall trees throwing at least some shade even if the sun would soon be too high in the sky.

With an extended, loud sigh, Mom dropped back down on the bench. Figuring that it was safe to look again, I stopped looking out the window. She had a look of relaxation and relief on her face, sitting on the bench with her arms outstretched and her eyes closed.

The underwear was just plain white, nothing fancy. A sports bra and—

My heart skipped a beat. Her white cotton briefs were soaked. The thin, wet fabric clung to her labia, turning slightly transparent. I've seen porn less revealing than that.

Suddenly the legs snapped shut and a loud slap reverberated in the cabin. I yanked my head up so fast I'm pretty sure I heard something pop.

"RILEY!" Mom shouted.

"I didn't see anything," I blurted out.

Mom cocked her head and looked down. I followed her gaze all the way to my boxers, where I discovered that my body had betrayed me. I frantically tried to push down my erection between my legs, willing my body to decrease blood flow to that particular part of the body.

Neither the pushing nor the willing worked very well.

"I told you it was a bad idea," Mom harrumphed and turned to look away.

The sheer embarrassment helped more than anything else. A minute later, and my penis was more or less back to its regular flaccid size. I shifted in my seat and tugged at the boxers strategically in several places, making sure the lump was as unobtrusive as possible.

"It's gone," I announced.

Mom turned back and her eyes only very briefly flickered down to my groin. She exhaled out of her nose loudly.

"I'm sorry," I said. "It just happens on its own sometimes. There's not much I can do to control it."

"Uh-huh," Mom grunted.

"I swear it was an accident."

"The more you deny it, the less convincing you get."

Figuring it was best to cut my losses, I shut up and stared out the window. An already bad situation somehow turned a hundred times worse. Whenever the memory of my mother's crotch resurfaced, I tried my best to quickly shut it down by imagining a very loud, classical concert with tubas and trumpets drowning out everything else.

The more time passed, the worse I felt. Maybe that was the end of our solid relationship. Maybe I should finally move out of the house.

"Do you think I should start dating again?" Mom asked out of the blue.

"What?" I asked, confused. She didn't sound like she was pissed and she was usually very upfront when she was.

"Do you think I should start dating again?" she repeated.

"Didn't you go on a date last month?"

"I was supposed to. I canceled it at the last minute."

"Oh. When did you stop?"

"When your father left."

"Really?" I asked, flabbergasted. "You haven't been dating anyone for ten years?"

"I've had a busy life," she said, getting defensive. "Raising you, working to provide for you, washing your clothes, paying your tuition."

"I'm incredibly grateful for everything, I assure you, but you can still go on a date and do all those things."

"It's more complicated than that."

"How?"

Looking away, Mom took a deep breath. "After your father and I split up, I asked him once why he cheated on me. He said it was because I was boring and ugly."

"Fuck him, he's an asshole," I said immediately.

"Yes, I know. But... I felt ugly for years. I couldn't figure out what other reason he had, so I thought that maybe he hadn't been lying."

"You're not ugly."

"I know that but... part of me still believes it. That's why I never started dating again. And now that I'm so old, it's even harder."

"You're not that old."

"You have to say that, you're my son," she said and turned to look at me again. She pressed her lips tightly together and tears welled up in her eyes.

"I'm not the only one who thinks so. Pretty much all my guy friends agree."

"Very funny."

"I'm not joking."

"I know. Besides, I know you're telling the truth."

"You do?"

"Yeah. We both saw proof of that just a little while ago," she chuckled.

"No, that wasn't—I didn't—" I spluttered, caught off guard.

"You know, I think you're the first guy that's shown an interest in my body for a long time. If I have that sort of reaction on you, maybe there are other guys who think so as well."

"I am not 'showing an interest in your body', Mom," I protested.

"Is that right?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

In my peripheral vision, I saw movement below. Like a moth drawn to the flame, I looked down at her legs as they spread open.

The last couple of minutes hadn't done the panties any favor. If anything, it was even sweatier than before. My mom had a small butterfly labia with dark lips. Heat rose to my head.

Turning sideways away from her, I did my best to cover up my erection, raising one leg high. Behind me, Mom burst into laughter. Not a chuckle or the giggles but full-on, wheezing laughter. She was bent over double, shaking with mirth.

"It's not funny," I complained.

Raising herself back to an upright position, with her legs closed again, she gasped for air. Her face was red and she wiped a tear out of her eyes.

"Yes, it is," she said after catching her breath.

The worst part of the reaction was over and I relaxed. The second time had definitely not been an accident. My mother had just pretty much flashed her pussy at me. Mixed feelings were roiling inside me.