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Helene's heart leapt into her mouth when she saw her son start to jump up from the couch. "Max!" Her voice was low and even as she grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

"You don't want to do this, sweetie," she said softly. Turning toward Simon and glaring at his shadowy form she added, "He's not worth it."

Satisfied that Max was fully seated again, Helene continued. "Look, I said I would do anything you wanted. Give you anything you need. Just leave my son alone!"

She certainly didn't expect what he said next. "Simon says: Kiss your boy. But not like a mother but like the woman on the screen."

Helene was still holding Max's arm and she gave it a gentle squeeze as her eyes slowly moved toward the screen. The couple was in a liplock that would have melted an iceberg at the North Pole. She squeezed his arm again and held tight.

Perhaps it was the protective mother in her, but Helene didn't think as she spat out her reply. It was ludicrous! Disgusting! And she would not subject her son to such... "Now that is sick. What are you -- some kind of demented pervert? I said that I would do whatever you wanted. Not Max. Me! Just let my boy go. Now!"