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1st of 2 parts
A small woman caused a small scene strolling into her favorite cafe one June morning. Choking on a danish, some pinched-faced old lady began yammering to all within earshot that the establishment was turning into a Hooters bar. The young men who worked at Silver Cloud Beanery never complained or exercised authority against the small woman. It usually took only a few minutes to calm any offended customers, explaining that the woman was a regular and valued patron. They couldn't ask her to leave. Those seeking to enjoy their coffee in a more conservative dining environment took it upon themselves to leave and do that. The managers of Silver Cloud were unaware of these recurring incidents because their employees were prepared to protect this woman's right to service by any means necessary and at the expense of the company's profit.
The gradual, baffling transition of Mrs. Chan from moderately appealing housewife to jaw-dropping provocateur had captivated them all month. A steady paycheck was no longer the sole reason they clung to this dead-end day job. Today was acne-caked Mike Ferguson's turn to take her order. His eyes did marathon laps around the small, pert breasts that poked out under her purple tube top, then up and down her short shapely legs and into the nether regions of her pants. Absent-mindedly twirling a long strand of shiny Black hair, Candice Chan scanned the menu above her gawky server's head. She could feel his and every other male's eyes desperately ogling her, but that was the least of her concerns today.
Innocuously observing from her booth in the corner, Lesley Yao found amusement in Mike Ferguson's awkward situation. Like Candice, Lesley was a wife and mother from the neighborhood whom she'd met at a PTA conference. Their sons were in the same grade, though they barely knew each other and were even less aware of the fast friendship that had developed between their mothers. If Lesley or Candice were visiting each other's homes for tea they wouldn't even mention it. This minor secrecy was due to the slightly competitive edge of their relationship. Upon joining Lesley at her booth, Candice had barely taken two sips of her iced mocha latte when her friend dropped the first bombshell.
"Candice dear, take a guess who your best girl was with this weekend."
Candice's stomach sank. Surely she couldn't mean...no, no it had to be some repairman or yuppie from her husband's law firm...
"That junior captain from your boy's swim team?" she offered hopefully.
"Close" grinned Lesley.
Candice glumly looked down into her ceramic mug. She loved her friend, but the knowledge that someone a few years older and without nearly as much beauty as she possessed had won the race was simply crushing to her ego. True, she'd had years of discreet cheating under her belt, particularly with younger men. But Lesley's son Justin was practically her son Brandon's exact age, so what did that matter? The tale of success confirmed most of Candice's cynical assumptions. Justin arrived home one afternoon and she more or less yanked him by the dick onto the living room couch.
Tackier still, she was the one who'd pulled the trigger - no tentative teasing or flirting to build anticipation or passion. Growing up as the sole Chinese-American in a Midwestern high school, Candice was marginalized to the outside of the sex and dating circles and had very few romantic encounters. Her mother Winnie kept close watch over her, which Candice had long reconciled as typical overprotectiveness coupled with anxieties of assimilating herself and her daughter into a new country and foreign culture. But the strongest advice Winnie gave her daughter during those formative years of sexuality was now Candice's Achilles heel. Traditional family upbringing specified that girls should ALWAYS wait for the man of their affections to make the first move. This meant trying all varieties of throwing herself at those men until they finally whisked her away in their arms, preferably to matrimony. It was a long-accepted Chan clan hypocrisy: to arouse interest was practical in landing a husband, to take action physically was the irredeemable path of a whore.
The thought of getting between his mother's legs might have never even occurred to Justin before that afternoon, but now Lesley had done the deed and was rubbing it right in her face. Candice slumped down into her seat, twin weights of envy and frustration sinking her face into a distant expression of misery and defeat. Lesley paused from the juicy details as she noticed the change wash over her girlfriend.
"Oh c'mon, Candy. It's really no big deal who got there first."
"I don't think I'll get there at all" Candice moped. "Brandon knows I could be his. He knows it. Doesn't my boy have confidence? He gets home every day at Four, his father gets home at Eight. Can't he do math?"
Lesley bit her lower lip and laid her hand on Candice's, voice dropping to a soft whisper.
"Darling, there is so much a boy must overcome to take his mother, so many fears and obstacles. He could be worried about rejection, or being caught by the father, not having time for girls his own age. To tell the truth...I took the initiative with my Justin only so he'd know for certain I could be his, no strings attached. Listen..."
Candice sat up and gave full attention to her friend as she continued.
"...Whether they know it or not, our husbands have been teaching our sons since birth to fear their wrath...to believe their mothers are sacred idols not to be touched and certainly not to be taken advantage of. Well sacred or not, you and I both know what kind of leisure activity young mothers and young men are looking for. But a young man like Brandon who's inexperienced or unsure of himself will invent a thousand false reasons in his head why you wouldn't love to ride him all night. What's your husband's name again?"
"Larry has probably given your son a fear of success. Given him worries about whether it's wrong to band his own mother, whether or not he could get away with it. I know my husband did it to Justin. He and Larry probably never had the courage to fuck their own mothers back when they were teenagers, if they were even worth it. After all, you've met my in-laws."
Candice giggled. Larry's mother had passed away before they'd started dating, but she'd seen the photo albums and it was safe to assume those thoughts had never entered her future husband's mind growing up. She was as big as a house. Lesley gently squeezed her friend's hand, looking straight into her eyes.
"I know how you've been trying. And look at you right now, every man in the room wants to bend you over our table and earn a prison sentence. But your son isn't some stranger with a hard-on. You must help him understand the full situation. Acting like a whore won't do it alone. Wearing fewer and fewer clothes isn't enough either. You must let Brandon know exactly what he's dealing with when you present him the goods. Does that make sense?"
Then Candice got idea. Yes. That made sense. It all made perfect sense. She began to smile, and so did Lesley.
That evening, Brandon Chan weakly threw water from his cupped hands onto his face. Having to swim extra laps after school had really taken it out of him, though his mind had mostly been preoccupied all day by Chris Statler's specious claims of getting action. From that dork Justin's mom in the school parking lot. A back seat quickie in a Subaru Outback. What bullshit. Even if it were true, how fucked up would that be? Brandon knew that for all his buddies' big talk about "milfs" and cracks about "milf hunting" none of them actually had the balls to hit on someone old enough to be their mother. Then again, Chris usually got all the action he wanted from any girl he chose. Brandon's options as of late had been limited to a cabal of mousey junior achieving honor roll geeks. Shy, dumpy orchestra girls with flat chests asking if he wanted to "go out to a show". He and his friends weren't the most popular guys of their high school during the last four years. But by now he really deserved some attention from girls looking for a little more than just a nice Asian boy to show off to mom and dad. Screw that.
Shelly Loomis, according to Chris, was supposed to be easy. So were Julia Rosenberg and Chelsea Bankovic. Strikeouts. Between classes the hot girls wouldn't give him a second glance unless they needed someone smart to cheat off before a test. Brandon was so desperate for relief he'd even gone to a bookworm's house one weekend only to get slapped across the face when his hand went too far up her legs. What a washout. Brandon spat his toothpaste into the sink, turned on the faucet and watched the white goo circle the drain.
Shuffling down the hallway in his boxers Brandon rubbed his eyes, energy fading. He opened his bedroom door and was startled to find his mom laying cross-legged atop his bed covers, wearing a low cut blue nightie and her reading glasses, Black hair bunched up together with pins. Leaned against a small pile of pillows, Candice looked as though she'd been waiting patiently for a while. Some distant warning bell in Brandon's head told him her intentions were less than motherly. Something felt off, but it was probably nothing.
"Mom, what's going on?"
"Nothing important, sweetie. I need to show you something before you go to sleep tonight."
Brandon was still unsure whether or not to be wary. It couldn't be anything bad, could it?
"Yeah? What is it?"
"Come into bed first."
Now he was worried. This could be a long talk, and long talks were lectures. What did she know? Had she found pot? Cigarettes? His condoms? Shit, this could be serious. But he had to play along in case it was all over nothing. Brandon grunted, walked to his bed and climbed over his mom onto the mattress and underneath the covers beside her, arms folded.
"It's sort of a bedtime story, honey. Relax and listen."
Candice reached behind herself and slid a book out from under one of the pillows. It was bound in brown leather and read "San Fernando University 1984" in Gold lettering across the spine and front cover. Brandon looked at his mother, who remained calm and focused as she cracked the book open to the first page, releasing the funky smell of old paper and glue. Without a word she began turning one page at a time, slowly and leisurely.
"When I was your age, Brandon, I was a little nervous going into college. High school hadn't been kind to me and I didn't have reason to think the next four years would be any better. I didn't have many friends and certainly no boyfriends."
Candice checked her son's reaction. He didn't seem to mind her mentioning any past love life.
"You hadn't met dad yet?"
"No" she chuckled, turning back to the yearbook. "This was some time before that. The point is, when I was accepted to the University I promised myself I'd make lots of new friends and meet lots of guys."
Brandon showed no discomfort with the frank admission. She continued to flip through the book page by page.
"Then a funny thing happened. You know, dear, our bodies don't stop growing for a long time. Even when you're in college your body will be developing, which is why you should keep fit. Now, when your mother was in high school, her body was still a little, ah...shapeless. Do you understand what I mean?"
He nodded, cautious but not uncomfortable with the real meaning of her defensive statement. Candice continued, feeling more and more open.
"When I made that promise to myself, it was as though my body actually heard me. Like it had a mind of it's own, and it was taking notice. Because it actually began to develop, very rapidly. I felt encouraged by that. I spent nearly the whole Summer before my freshman year going to the YMCA."
Brandon gulped inwardly and nodded again. He knew what she was saying but it didn't have the potential for awkwardness it possessed before. Now it felt like the prelude to something under the surface. Intrigue made him bite the line.
"So is there a picture of you somewhere? Is that what you're showing me?"
"Oh, is that what you'd like to see?" Candice giggled.
Her fingers skipped along to a dog-eared page in the book and opened it up across her lap. The photos were marked "OPENING DAY" and showed dozens of freshman students hanging around the campus grounds; moving in, messing around, tossing frisbees on the lawns and carrying suitcases. Brandon placed his finger on one of the students.
"That's...?" he squeaked.
Brandon had never thought about it before, but when had he ever seen a picture of his mother older than his own childhood? Growing up, he'd always known she was pretty, but seeing his mom at this age was at once familiar and totally unrecognizable. She'd been wearing less and less clothes around the house lately - it was, after all, June - but he never would have guessed she'd been showing off the same bouncy figure she'd carried for over twenty years. The only real difference between then and now was her face. With an open-mouthed grin she radiated excitement towards everyone around her, like a pixie. There was something wild in her eyes, a spark Brandon had never known existed.
Candice turned the page and moved on. Her son's initial response was perfect, but pacing was everything tonight. Time for another little push.
"I was in good shape. And because I wanted to meet new people I decided to join some sports teams. I'll bet you didn't know where you got your swimming talent from, eh?"
"No way" Brandon grinned.
The page she settled on next contained group photos of the women's basketball, water polo and swim teams at various events. All were healthy, athletic and unselfconscious about having their photos taken in their wet swimsuits. Brandon's eyes widened as he found Candice - like the others, her wet one piece suit rendered her virtually naked. Her big hips and toned thighs framed her vaginal lips beautifully. She looked into the camera playfully.
Some new and powerful perspective was rapidly taking shape in Brandon's mind. It was that body. He broke concentration from the book to look his own mom up and down while repeating the thought: my mother has the body of a nubile young college babe. By most guy's standards she's a fox. Am I calling my own mom hot?
Candice gazed down at Brandon as his eyes bounced back and forth like ping-pong balls between herself and her photo. She was very proud of the inner turmoil he was finally making his way through. The reality of the situation was that mom or not, he was laying beside a very attractive woman. Even at the moment of the photograph there groups of guys scoping her out. His own mom. Was she even technically "mom" then?
"Oh my, Brandon...is that you under there?" said Candice, drawing in a deep breath.
"W-what?" Brandon realized with a jolt that he was becoming stiff against his mom's thigh.
"Oh my god, I'm sorry - I was - I was...looking at one of the girls in the photo. I didn't mean to."
Candice frowned. Either that was true or he was starting to hold back. She composed herself and put her best smile back on.
"I guess we should've dried off first before they took this, huh?"
Brandon smiled, turning beet red while his erection refused to subside.
"Who were you looking at, exactly?" she asked.
A warning bell went off in Brandon's head. He poked his finger against the first girl who wasn't Candice, a tall Blonde wasp with large breasts.
"Ooh, Peggy Martin" said Candice. "It might interest you to know that she once had sex with two guys at the same time. Both ROTC cadets, I believe."
What the hell was going on here? Was he dreaming?
"As a matter of fact, we were in the same sorority together. Would you like to see mommy's sorority?"
Brandon could only nod, speechless. Candice turned the pages, speaking with nostalgic lucidity.
"I made some friends on the team, but it was really my sisters who taught me to have a good time. They were always partying. Some girls I knew said their parents wouldn't let them rush Pi-Delta-Pi. They had something of a bad reputation. Of course, with your grandmother still living far out back East I was pretty far from home. And more than able to make those kind of life decisions myself."
Candice flipped across the Fraternities section of the yearbook, slowly enough for Brandon to note the check marks beside most of the young men's names. The Sororities section featured a few small armies of girls gathered proudly in front of their well kept off-campus houses. Candice stopped on the next page. Each house was identified by caption, but she didn't have to point hers out. Brandon's eyes were already popping out of his skull at the self-submitted portrait of the members of Pi-Delta-Pi, and it was a minor miracle the yearbook staff had even ran it. Gathered across a Grey, dead lawn of beer cans and tire tracks was the definitive cross section of a landmark bimbo era. Any unexposed flesh was tightly sealed in neon lycra or spandex. Red, Black, Blonde and Brunette hair teased up and feathered out as far as it could stretch.
The only girl whose beauty was untouched by the passage of fashion trends was the one being held up front row center in the arms of others. Candice was their mascot, the carefree emblem of a coven dedicated to mindless self indulgence away from mom and dad. Her change in appearance was no less of a shock than opening day. She'd certainly evolved to her surroundings by the end of the year. For one, she'd discovered makeup. Blue eyeliner complimented with mascara and elongated eyelashes lent her sparkly Green eyes a tacky glamour. Lipstick let her full, pouting lips a shine of cherry Red in the afternoon sun. Two Black pigtails dangled inches from the ground, matching her form-fitting Black biking shorts. Her swim-sculpted legs stretched high in the air like a cabaret dancer's, Red pump sandals dangling from her painted toes. Her t-shirt read simply and in bold lettering: PARTY NAKED. Brandon's mind was finally yanked back to the present by his mother's voice, though his eyes just couldn't leave those legs.
"The girls and I weren't sure if they'd allow my shirt in our photo, so I remember having to sneak into the yearbook committee's office late one night just to convince them. I think the boy's name was Roger."
She smiled, pausing to observe that her son's erection was still visible beneath the bed covers and he either didn't notice or didn't care. Hoping for the latter she continued.
"Anyhow, I made friends with the swim team but Pi-Delta-Pi made my social circle even wider. Suddenly I had dozens of friends and boyfriends. Hundreds of parties. We had mixers with every frat in the tri-county area. I couldn't get enough. We'd show up like a little squad of party girls, jumping into the laps of any guy with a beer or a joint...have you smoked pot before, honey? I'm just curious."
"Y-yeah. Once at a party. Last year."
Candice ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed his head affectionately.
"I'm not interrogating you, sweetie. You can enjoy it once in a while as long as you're responsible, just like with alcoholic drinks. But as to how I enjoyed it, I must confess there wasn't much responsibility. The thing is, sweetie, pot sometimes has an effect on girls of making them aroused, and I was definitely one of those girls. My sister Kelly Bannister was a big pot smoker, and sometimes she and I would take hits from her bong before we even left the house to go to a party. Then of course I'd have some drinks once we got there. And since alcohol has the tendency to lower people's inhibitions, the fact that mine had already been lowering all year meant I was up for pretty much anything or anyone."