Ian "took over" when they reached the restaurant, announcing their name to the maître d' as if it were something he did on a regular basis. He really wanted to get into this "romantic date" thing for his mom and frankly was a little chuffed to be her escort when he noticed the glances she'd gotten as they were led to their table.

The Tuscany was busy, but the tables were placed far enough apart to allow for intimate conversation, Mary noted and beamed proudly at her son when he held her chair. She knew that Ian was doing this especially for her, wanting to make her happy, and that knowledge made her love him and want him all the more.

"Would you like a drink before ordering?" The waiter asked as he handed each of them a menu.

In this, Ian deferred to his mother who ordered a carafe of the house burgundy. He was further surprised when she offered him a glass.

"Just one, though" Mary said with a wink as Ian took a sip. Truth was, she wanted her son relaxed, but not drunk. She wanted him aware of what was going on, not oblivious.

"No problem, mom," Ian reassured her and began to scan the menu. Not much of a drinker, even at parties with his mates, he had almost refused. Wine made him horny -- not exactly something he wanted to happen while on a "date" with his mother. He didn't really intend to finish the glass but she looked so happy that he didn't want to disappoint her.

"Ian," Mary leaned forward as she whispered. "You're being such a good sport. Thank you."

"Now. What to order? Would you like to choose for both of us?"

Ian looked up at his mother and grinned. "You trust me to do that? I mean... What if I order peanut butter and jam sandwiches or something?"

"Well, then that is what we will have," Mary grinned back. "But that will also gain you one of my famous pinches."

"No way."

"Way! So, choose. But choose wisely."

"That's blackmail!"

"Yes, it is. And what are you going to do about it?"

"Tickle you?"

"You can't. That's against the law, remember?"

"Oh yeah. Well I'd better choose something good then, huh?" Ian looked back down at the menu. At home, he would have tickle tortured her as she called it, but he had to behave. They were in a public place after all.

After a few minutes, the waiter returned and Ian told him what they would be having. Not for the first time that evening, he was chuffed by the pleased look he saw on his mother's face. Yes, she deserved this evening out, he thought and sat a little straighter in his chair. He would do her proud.

We're getting there... We're getting there...