Cozying Up to My Stepmother’s Recipe for Intimacy

Sonja did so much more than warm a kitchen and home—she stole my heart and offered solace

Alan kardek Ribeiro Pexels

Age gap | Stepmother

It wasn’t the sleet pinging of my car or the gray skies that darkened my mood. Bethie said she needed a brief period of separation until semester finals were over. That didn’t settle well with me because her study group included Ben Rumnor, a tight end on the football team and Josh Callister, a frat boy who was as arrogant as he was good-looking.

Jealous feelings suck and they prick my insecurities so I was feeling as foul as the weather when I pulled to the front of the house, grabbed my backpack, and trudged indoors with my face being stung one more time.

An aroma greeted me when I entered and a delicious fragrance flowing from the kitchen. My heart leaped as it often did when Sonja smiled. “Lawrence, I was just thinking of you.” Her voice was like a melody and her eyes seemed to massage me around my aching neck and tense shoulders.

“Oh, you were?”

Sonja never just looked at me and said “hi” and went about whatever she was doing. She connected and I knew why she had become such a bright spot after my mother scrambled away. Dad had married Sonja months later and I was resentful and kept my expectations low. In fact, I ignored her.

“Yes,” she replied, busily working dough on the granite countertop. “I thought of some rolls, well, buns for you to munch on.” Her giggle transformed my thoughts.

“I’d say your buns are quite spectacular already.” Flirting with Sonja taught me how to find that key to go beneath the surface with someone.

“You’re so cute, darling. Come here.” She rolled the dough and craned her neck for me and I pressed my lips to hers. Kissing my stepmother had become normal and I could tell that the lips coming together weren’t just surface kisses. The contact was like she was opening the door to my passions.