Breakfast at Kaylee's

Plodding into the kitchen, I found we weren’t alone. Kaylee’s mother was already up, paper in front of her as she at the kitchen table with a steaming cup of coffee resting next to her. I immediately paused at the sight of her, unease locking my legs in place. She was in nothing but a silk robe. That might have been okay if she bothered to close it. As it were, the robe barely covered the large swell of her breasts, leaving little to the imagination.

Seeing us enter, she set the paper down. “Morning kids. Have a restful night?” She gave a knowing smile. “Or perhaps a productive morning?”

Kaylee rolled her eyes, ignoring her mom. Unfortunately for me, she was a difficult woman to ignore. “Ignore her. How many eggs you want?” Kaylee asked as she dug around the refrigerator.

“You’re fixing food for him? I thought you said you liked him.”

She looked around the door at her mother. “I do.”

Mrs. Webb stood up and I averted my eyes. Pretty sure I saw a nipple. “Then why are you trying to poison the dear boy?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was a sensual way her mother moved that was hard to describe. As much as I wanted to look away, my eyes always managed to find their way back. “Honey, you are gifted in many things, but the culinary arts is not one of them.”

“I can make eggs, Mom.”

“Why don’t you two just sit and relax? I was hungry anyway. Omelets okay?” Both girls looked over at me and I realized I was staring. Face heating at getting caught, I nodded quickly.

“That’s fine.”

Mrs. Webb smiled. “Great!”

I took the moment to escape, rushing to the kitchen table. I grabbed the paper too, happy to have something else to occupy my attention before my eyes got me in more trouble. “Can you at least close your robe, Mom? We have a guest over.”

Yeah, Kaylee had caught me staring.

“Oh, he’s practically family. I’m sure he doesn’t mind. Do you, Scott?”

Once more, I had the attention of both women. Clearing my throat, I mumbled something incomprehensible and covered my face with the paper. I could hear Mrs. Webb chuckling. Kaylee slid into the chair beside me.

“Sorry about Mom,” she whispered.

“It’s fine.”

“Don’t let her get to you. The trick is to not let her know she’s getting to you. Showing weakness is death.”

“You’re being dramatic,” her mother said, overhearing her even as she gathered ingredients.

“Dad up yet?” Kaylee asked, changing the conversation topic.

“I wish. Your father drank a little too much wine last night and his performance suffered for it.”

“Gross, Mom.” The way Kaylee said it suggested she wasn’t overly bothered by it. I’d be mortified if I had this sort of conversation with my parents. Were families normally like this, or was this a Webb thing? My parents, or at least my dad, were extremely conservative when it came to talking about sex.

Trying to keep my head down, I focused on the paper. Nothing major was happening from what it looked like. There was a male rights march in France protesting forced relocation and anti-marriage laws. I could feel the bias screaming from the article. It was clear where the reporter stood on the subject. ‘Fighting against an unfortunate reality of the world…’ The next page was more fluff. The headline for the science and technology mentioned something about a promising drug regimen that increased fertility rates for D-ranked males. I was interested until I read more into it. Like always, they tended to promise more than they could deliver. Fertility research had been promising D-rank fertility for decades now and it seemed science was no closer to making it a reality. I was about to skip to the comics when a plate found its way in front of me. Looking up, I found Mrs. Webb smiling as she sat across from me.

“I have to say, it’s nice having one of Kaylee’s conquests actually stick around in the morning.”

There was a loud sputter next to me. Coughing, Kaylee wiped the orange juice from her face. “Mom!”

“What? I’m just saying that of all the young men you’ve had over, I can only remember a handful joining us for breakfast.” She gave me a wide smile. “I’m only saying this is a wonderful change I can get used to.”

“First off, Scott isn’t a ‘conquest.’ I told you we’re dating now.”

“How’s the omelet, dear?” Mrs. Webb asked, ignoring her daughter. I hurried to take a bite.

“Great,” I managed through an overstuffed mouth.

“Oh, how rude of me. Would you like anything to drink? Coffee? Orange juice? Milk?” I just shook my head. Her attention went back to Kaylee. “And what about Sean?”

I could see Kaylee tense. “Mom.”

“I know how much you like him.” She glanced over at me. “Last weekend he was over. Poor girl was screaming so much I was afraid the neighbors would file a noise complaint. Her father had me like that too, back in the day.” She sighed in a happy memory, taking a slow sip of her coffee. She gave me a pointed look. “I noticed it was awfully quiet last night.”

I glanced over at Kaylee. I think she had forgotten the advice she gave me. Her face was beet red. Kaylee’s mom didn’t pull any punches, but I didn’t sense any malice in her words. Before she could respond, a new voice joined in.

“Oh! Everyone’s up already. Why didn’t you wake me up?” Mr. Webb asked, giving a hurt look at his wife.

She gave him a warm smile. “If your snoring wasn’t enough to wake you, I’m afraid there’s nothing I could do.”

Sauntering over to his wife, he ran his hand across her shoulders, squeezing them. “Oh, I think I know something that could do it,” he said, leaning in to kiss her. I noticed he also pulled her robe closed in the process. Thank god.

Separating, Mrs. Webb puffed her lips out in a pout. It was eerie how similar she was to Kaylee. “After how you left me last night? I don’t think so.”

He gave a sheepish chuckle. “You know what wine does to me…”

“I warned you to stop.”

“But it was the ‘09. You know how much I love that year.” She gave a humph and turned her head away. Taking a seat next to his wife, he looked at me and cracked a wide smile. “So what were we talking about?”

“I was just talking about how nice it is that one of Kaylee’s…friends… finally stuck around long enough to join us for breakfast.”

Mr. Webb didn’t seem too happy at that. “Lisa.”

She sighed heavily. “Sorry. I’m a little ornery this morning. I tend to get that way when my daughter gets more action in this house than I do,” she said with a glare at her husband. He coughed a few times, looking away. Her eyes lit up as she remembered something. “That’s right. Scott, we bought your ticket. It was a bit last minute, so you won’t be sitting with us, but at least it’s the same flight.”

“Thank you,” I said, remembering that I still needed to tell Mom and Dad that I was going. I’d never been skiing before, and I was looking forward to it. Even if it meant spending ten days with Kaylee’s family. Well, more like spending ten days with her mom. “I can pay—”

“Nope,” Mr. Webb said, cutting me off. “We invited you. Besides, there’s no way I’m going to take money from my little girl’s boyfriend. Have you ever been skiing before?” I shook my head.

“Don’t worry. I’m sure Kaylee will be happy to teach you. She is quite good working with poles.” That got a glare from Kaylee and a groan from her husband. “This is your fault!” she said with an accusing finger at her husband.

Sighing, Mr. Webb stood up and moved purposefully around his wife. I watched as he lifted her from her seat, causing it to clatter against the ground. I think everyone was as surprised as I was—Mrs. Webb especially.

“W-what are you doing?” she asked as she slung her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Mr. Webb wasn’t as bulky as he was in their earlier family pictures, but he still had muscle to him. Even if his wife was max one ten, he had just… picked her up. “Put me down!” she cried out as he walked out of the kitchen, beating her fists against his back.

“I will when we get to the bedroom.” I noticed she stopped struggling at that.

“Oh? What are we going to do there?”

“What I should have done last night.”

The kitchen table was uncomfortably silent as I glanced over at Kaylee. She was poking her fork at the remains of her omelet, face red. “They usually like that?”

“Unfortunately, it’s usually worse.” She set her fork down. “We should leave before they start. Mom tends to be loud.”

“Good idea.”