The Tutor Mom’s Dangerous Deal - Chapter 2: Chapter 2

I gaped at the stain on my clothes, my body locking up in shock.
Ethan had...
Gritting my teeth, I shoved the laundry into the washing machine and marched out, forcing myself to act normal.
As I passed Ethan's room, a sliver of light spilled from under the door—shadows shifting, legs planted firmly on the other side.
He was eavesdropping.
My eyes narrowed. Without a word, I retreated to my own room.
Lying in bed, my thoughts twisted into knots.
When had my sweet boy turned into... this?
Frustration coiled in my chest as I dragged my fingers through my hair and grabbed my phone. I'd assumed Ethan's behavior was some freak anomaly, but the search results told a different story.
Article after article explained it: teenage boys in the throes of puberty, their hormones raging, their fantasies spiraling—often toward the most accessible figure in their lives. Their mothers.
My stomach dropped.
This was... normal?
I kept scrolling, stumbling onto forums where parents discussed their kids' sexual development. After a moment's hesitation, I joined an Ivy League Business School parents' group—a mix of Caucasian, African American, and Asian parents, all united by the same bewildered concern.
The moderator asked for an introduction and a summary of my issue. I kept it brief: My son is exhibiting inappropriate fixation. Need advice.
The responses poured in fast.
Some suggested encouraging him to date. Others bluntly proposed hiring an escort to "demystify" women. A few even hinted that I should... satisfy his curiosity.
My head spun.
What kind of twisted advice was this? Since when did Western parents solve problems like this?
I was about to leave the group when a friend request popped up.
The profile showed a striking woman in her thirties—sleek dark hair, sharp cheekbones, a confident smirk. I hesitated, then accepted.
"Hi, I'm Victoria Evans. Chinese? Also here with your kid studying abroad?"
I perked up. "Sophia Laurent. Is your child applying to business school too?"
"Mine's already in. Where are you staying? We should meet—my son went through this phase. Maybe I can help."
My eyebrows shot up. Without thinking, I sent my address.
Turns out, Victoria lived just blocks away in our gated community.
We agreed to meet the next morning at a nearby café.
The moment I walked in, I spotted her—lounging in a deep V-neck dress that left little to the imagination, her crimson lips wrapped around a straw.
"Victoria?"
She turned with a dazzling smile. "You must be Sophia!"
Before I could react, she pulled me into a hug, her perfume overwhelming. "Yes, Sophia Laurent," I managed, stiffening at her touch.
She eyed my modest blouse and slacks with a playful smirk. "Darling, we're in America! With a body like yours, why hide it? Look how men stare when I walk in."
I forced a polite smile and ordered an iced Americano. Her boldness wasn't my style—but I wasn't here for fashion advice.
After some small talk, I cut to the chase.
"You said your son also... fantasized about you? Even snuck around at night?"
Victoria swirled her drink, nodding. "Multiple times."
"How did you stop it? Ethan can't focus on school like this! The business school exams—"
She leaned in, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "My solution might shock you."
"Try me," I said, taking a sip.
"He's sexually frustrated with you as his fantasy, right?"
"Yes..." My grip tightened on my cup.
"Then find him a mature woman to sleep with. Once he experiences the real thing, the obsession fades." She smirked. "Based on my experience, a month or two should do it."
I choked on my coffee.
"You're suggesting I arrange... someone to have sex with my son?"
"Exactly. Worked for my boy." She tilted her head, studying me. "Is he handsome? If so, I might help personally."
My cup clattered against the saucer.
"You mean... you and Ethan...?"