Wonderful Life! Ch. 08

At least on Saturdays I was free of college. And that was just wonderful, considering my new schedule. No fucking Iren at six thirty in the morning. I'd reached the point where all it took to make my day better was not seeing one particular person.

I rolled over onto my other side and tried to fall back asleep to spite everyone, even though it was already ten or so in the morning.

A little after ten, my phone buzzed under my pillow. I should have put it on Do Not Disturb. I'll keep that mistake in mind for next time.

babe are you asleep

babe

BABE

I replied that I wasn't asleep. She read it instantly.

i didnt sleep either

this is just insane

calling you now

She called a second later, or maybe I only imagined it, half-asleep.

"Babe," Elsa said, in a voice like she was glad to hear me. "Babe, you have no idea."

"What happened?"

"Nothing happened. Something just happened at work." Something clinked in the background, like a spoon hitting a cup. "So, yesterday I got this super unusual booking. Two old broads. Well, ladies. Like fifty-ish, somewhere around there. Maybe a little older, whatever. So, they're these two close girlfriends, both married, a few kids each. And they were having this little girls' night, just the two of them."

"And you were there too?"

"Well, I figured, why not? Bookings from women are rare. I guess I'm not their type. But I love bookings like that, because they're usually easier. You know, there's hardly ever anything like anal. Anyway, babe, I figured we'd sit around, drink some wine. Maybe there'd be some lesbian sex. They looked so respectable, babe. Pearls, cashmere, one of them even had glasses on a chain, like a fucking librarian. So... We had dinner, then went up to the room. It was this huge suite, with a Jacuzzi. And then it all started..."

She went quiet and, I think, took a sip of something. Coffee, maybe.

"What?"

"First they told me their husbands never do that for them. Like, not once in thirty years of marriage." Elsa laughed. "Babe, I licked them for like two hours. Two! Nonstop. First one of them lay next to me playing with herself while I licked the other one. Then the other one drank wine and coached me on how to work my own tongue. And round and round like that."

I sat up in bed. My brain still wasn't working at all.

"Licked... Okay... And then what?"

"Licked their asses, babe. Well, mostly."

I was used to her calmly telling me details like that by now.

"Well, I tried to steer everything over to the clit and the pussy. Like, I've got more experience with that. But they flat-out refused, like, aggressively, and wanted me to lick nothing but their assholes. The one in the glasses kept saying, 'Honey, don't rush.' She drove me fucking nuts, the bitch. I wasn't rushing. My tongue's all red now. Rubbed it raw, I think. Hold on, I'll take a pic."

My phone buzzed. I pulled it away from my ear and looked.

In the photo, Elsa was sticking out her tongue. It really was red, but no redder than anybody else's. Obviously she was exaggerating the problem.

"You look? You see?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course. I'm so sorry..."

"And my jaw hurts too. Right by my ear. I open my mouth and it clicks. Babe, that is so not fun."

I didn't know what to say to that. And instead I pictured my girlfriend spending the night between two asses belonging to some old broads. Well, to be honest, it even turned me on a little.

"You should've seen their asses, babe," Elsa went on. "Well, not bad asses for their age. The one in the glasses, hers was actually great. Probably goes to the gym. I told her straight up she had a top-tier ass. She threw in an extra hundred as a tip."

"For one compliment?" I asked, surprised.

"For the truth, babe. Women love it when somebody says out loud what they already know." She sighed. "And anyway, women are more generous. And they don't get handsy when they shouldn't. They were so sweet I almost fell asleep right there next to them. So peaceful."

She went quiet, and I heard her chewing something. Sounded like lettuce or cucumbers.

"Anyway," she said with her mouth full. "I need to pick up a few things. Yesterday I looked at those broads: they're all in cashmere, and I don't have a single cashmere sweater. That's, like, a total disgrace! Will you come with me?"

"Today?"

"Well, when else, babe? At two, at the mall on the waterfront. By the fountain. You're free, right?"

I looked around my room and let out a breath. Looked like I wouldn't be playing League of Legends today. Not that I had any other plans.

"I'm free," I said.

"Awesome. Then you'll carry my bags like my knight and tell me everything looks good on me."

"Everything always looks good on you."

"See, you're already ready for it." She laughed and immediately yelped. "Ow, my jaw. Anyway, babe, no sucking today, just so you know. My tongue can't feel a thing either. So don't get your hopes up, got it?"

"Got it."

"Hope you're not mad..."

"I'm not mad."

I'd stopped counting on anything like that from her a while ago. I treated those rare episodes more like gifts.

Someone knocked on the door. Three short raps. Sasha usually didn't knock, so it was Mom.

"Niko," Mom said through the door. "Open the door."

"I've got to go," I said into the phone. "Mom's here."

"Oh!" Elsa perked up. "Say hi to my mother-in-law for me!"

"Will do."

I hung up, pulled on my around-the-house shorts, and opened the door. Mom was wearing jeans, which she put on so rarely that I can't even remember the last time it happened. Plus a white T-shirt, tucked in. Her hair was down, as always.

With that look, she seemed about ten years younger.

"Good morning," Mom said. "Are you dressed?"

"Almost."

She surveyed my room with undisguised disgust. A small pile of clothes on the chair, a mug on the desk, and next to it a sock that had been lying there for a week. She managed to say nothing.

"Have breakfast and make yourself presentable," she said. "We are going out on errands today."

"Where?"

"To the mall. Aria's birthday is next Saturday. She has reserved a table at a restaurant and invited us."

"And why do I have to be there?"

"Sasha and Markus will be there too."

Well, of course. My mom's best friend's amazing son was going to be there. The very one who got a scholarship, who no doubt knows every science better than the scientists and talks to waiters in a way that makes them pick up his check themselves. We rarely saw each other, but Mom had always envied Aria for having such an amazing son. While she had... While she had me.

"Why do we need to go to the mall, though?" I asked.

"We need to buy you a dress." She said it so calmly, as if I'd been wearing that shit for a thousand years.

I choked.

"What the fuck?"

"It is an expensive restaurant, Niko. Aria will be in a dress. I will be in a dress. Sasha will be in a dress. Markus will be in a suit. You cannot be there in jeans and a hoodie. Everyone would be embarrassed for you, me most of all."

I didn't want to start yet another argument I was going to lose. You had to tiptoe around Mom, not charge at her head-on. Like she was a sleeping rabid dog. Carefully, along the edges, so you don't wake her.

"Mom," I began. "Maybe a blouse? I've got a few. Nice ones. You picked them out yourself."

"Those are clothes for college."

"Maybe we could buy a different one, something dressier?"

"You intend to sit across from Markus in a blouse?"

I didn't want to sit across from Markus at all, not even in a spacesuit.

"Then maybe I'll wear a blazer," I suggested. "It's a restaurant."

"You do not have one."

"Let's buy one."

"A men's one?" She raised an eyebrow and smirked.

That was enough for me to understand that the conversation about the blazer was over. But I still had another appointment booked for that time.

"Mom, I can't today," I said. "I have a date."

Mom was surprised and went quiet. Not like she was coming up with an answer, but more like I'd suddenly announced that I'd been accepted to Harvard.

"With a boy?" she asked.

"With a girl."

"You have a girlfriend," she murmured, working out what to do with this information.

"I do," I said. "For more than six months now."

"And you kept quiet all this time?"

"You never asked."

Mom's eyes actually narrowed with displeasure. Then she blinked, exhaled, and seemed to calm down.

"Is she from a good family?" Mom asked.

I looked away, thinking. Different snapshots of Elsa popped into my head. She had a luxury apartment with a concierge! Sometimes she flew off to Dubai to unwind in expensive hotels. Sometimes she spent her evenings with rich people who had fascinating life experience and deep inner worlds. And sometimes she got fucked in the ass by a very big cock so hard her eyes rolled back from pleasure. I really don't know which would be the right answer to give Mom.

But if I was answering the question as asked, I'd never met her parents. I didn't even know whether she had any.

"I guess," I said.

Mom gave a little snort.

"What is her name?"

"Elsa."

"Elsa," Mom repeated, trying to decide whether she liked the name. "Where are you meeting?"

"At the mall on the waterfront. At two, by the fountain."

Mom smiled.

"Wonderful," she said. "Then we will have a chance to get acquainted."

"Mom..."

"You were going to the mall anyway. Nothing changes if I am there too." She looked at her watch. "We leave at one twenty. Be ready by then."

With that, she went back downstairs.

I closed the door, leaned my back against it, and slowly slid down to the floor. Why did I even try to do something to make Mom change her plans? It's all useless anyway.

I picked up my phone and started typing to Elsa.

My mom's going to be with me.

Deleted it.

Mom wants to go to the mall too.

Deleted it.

How exactly was I supposed to tell my girlfriend that I was a mama's boy? Because that's exactly how it was going to look. Fine. After all, Elsa admired my mother herself, so she wouldn't mind a little surprise.

I tossed the phone onto the bed.

I got dressed the usual way. Women's skinny jeans, Sasha's fuck buddy's hoodie, sneakers. Under the jeans, black panties and pantyhose. It's November, after all.

Rhythmic snuffling came from Sasha's room. Looked like she'd rolled in at dawn again.

Mom had a car. Gray, clean, without a single scratch, and it smelled exactly like her bedroom. I sat in the passenger seat and watched her drive. It seemed to me she didn't make a single mistake, but I didn't know how to drive, so I could only judge indirectly.

She didn't say a word the whole way. I was expecting a thousand questions about Elsa, but she didn't ask a thing. Only once, at the light right before the turn into the parking lot, did she say her name again:

"Elsa."

I nodded, and she went quiet again, satisfied that she'd memorized it correctly.

In the parking lot, Mom got out of the car, came around it, and took my hand. Only little kids and significant others get held by the hand like that. I chose to count myself among the former.

"Mom," I said, and tried to pull free. Carefully, so it wouldn't look like that.

"There are a lot of people here," she replied, and squeezed my fingers a little tighter. "The last thing I need is to search every floor for you."

"I'm nineteen, not nine."

"I know how old you are. I was present at your birth, in case you were not aware."

I exhaled. We crossed the parking lot and went in through the glass doors. Some guy by the ATM followed Mom with his eyes so hungrily that I very nearly worked up the nerve to punch him a couple of times. Hard to blame him. In his place I'd probably have done the same. Sasha had a fantastic ass, and plenty of people had complimented mine. And Helena, my mom, was the original factory for these asses. Stands to reason hers would be the best.

Why am I even thinking about this? Jesus.

The mall on the waterfront was one of the new ones, and so huge you'd think the town was full of people with nothing better to do than shop. Four floors, a glass dome, escalators crisscrossing each other, the smell of coffee every thirty feet. In the middle of the atrium stood a fountain: a few thick jets shot up the full height of the building and fell back down as rain.

We got there at five to two. Elsa, as often happens, didn't.

At two fifteen Mom was already glancing at her watch in irritation.

At two twenty, that irritation was already spilling out into a horribly tense atmosphere around her.

"Is she always late?" Mom asked, and I think she was starting to suspect that I'd made up my girlfriend.

"Sometimes."

Mom gave a little snort.

At two twenty-eight, Elsa appeared in the distance.

I spotted her right away. Strange thing, it was as if somebody was lighting her up with a giant spotlight, like a lead singer at a concert. I think it only seemed that way because of how bright Elsa looked compared to everyone else in the mall. The same blond ponytail down to the small of her back that drove me crazy. A light beige coat, hanging open, and under it a knit dress so short it looked more like a long sweater. At a rough guess, I'd have said there was about an inch between her crotch and the hem. Nude stockings that, though barely visible, looked pretty trashy. Three-inch heels, on which she walked across the slippery tile like a fucking figure-skating star. Sunglasses perched on top of her head, even though it was November.

She saw me and had already raised her hand to wave.

And then she noticed Mom, and that we were holding hands.

Elsa's hand dropped. The smile vanished from her face so fast that animal terror hit me instantly. Her brows drew together over the bridge of her nose, and her face looked as furious as a lioness that had spotted something she didn't just dislike--something that even woke her protective instinct. She sped up, her heels clacking on the tile so loud and fast it sounded like gunfire, and stopped three feet away from us. She looked down at Mom the way you look at a rival. Mom might not have looked as expensive as Elsa, but... Hers was a different kind of beauty. I wouldn't even try to rank them, because they're different categories.

"Who the hell is this old slut with you?" Elsa barked with incredible fury.

Loud. Across the entire atrium. A woman with a stroller by the fountain turned around, and the baby in it started screaming. A couple on a bench stopped kissing and decided to get as far away as possible while they still could. Even the fountain seemed to stop working for a second.

I'd thought Mom was scary when she was angry, but this... Like I said, they're in different categories, however funny that sounds.

Elsa was angry for real. Not the way she got about a chipped nail or a girl who'd stolen a client from her. Her cheeks flushed and her nostrils flared, and her fingers gripped the strap of her purse so hard her knuckles went white. She was jealous. Yes. Elsa, who got fucked in the ass by assorted old guys with money at fairy-tale frequency, was jealous of me with the woman holding my hand.

It was actually kind of nice. There's no jealousy without love, right?

But at the same time, this was my mom. And she was suspiciously quiet.

She just stood there, looking at Elsa with icy calm.

"Elsa." I tried to get a word in. My voice came out so high and girly you'd think somebody had confiscated my balls. "This is my mom, Helena. Mom, this is Elsa."

Elsa blinked. Then blinked faster.

I watched it sink in frame by frame. First her eyes went wide, then her mouth fell open a little. Red crept up her neck, across her chin to her cheeks and right up to her ears. Even in her work videos she never got that red.

"Oh," she mumbled. "Oh. My God."

"Hello," Mom said.

"Hello... Oh, I'm so sorry! I... I didn't know. I thought... Babe, why the hell didn't you tell me?!" She turned to me, and there was a note of anger in her voice, but mostly it was panic. "I'm really sorry, honestly. I just saw you two together... And you're so pretty. And I thought you two looked kind of weird together."

She fell silent.

Mom held out her free hand.

"Helena," she said.

Elsa shook it with both of hers, like she was trying to warm it up.

"Elsa. So nice to meet you. Really, I'm sorry. Don't get the wrong idea, I'm totally not like that. I mean..." She stumbled and decided to try a different angle. Her eyes lit up. "Wait, so you're the one who decided to buy him those jeans?"

"I am."

"You're literally a genius. Seriously. When I saw them, I was, like... I told him straight up you're a genius."

"I know," Mom said.

I stood between them, glancing from one to the other. It's a pretty strange feeling--being stuck between them.

"Niko said the two of you have a date," Mom said. "I hope you do not mind if I join you. We have an important purchase to make today."

"Of course!" Elsa nodded eagerly. "Of course I don't mind. What do you want to buy?"

"A dress for Niko."

Elsa was looking at Mom. The red had already drained from her face, and now it wore the same expression it had when she held women's clothes up against me at her apartment.

"Babe," she said quietly and very happily. "Babe, why didn't you tell me about this?"

I let out an irritated breath. What a day this was going to be.

The first hour went okay and, on the whole, almost peacefully. Well, peacefully... About like the Cold War.

Mom walked in front and chose the stores. Elsa walked alongside and commented on every choice. I walked in the middle, and every so often they both held my hands. From the outside we must have looked like a lesbian couple and their son, rather than my mom, my girlfriend, and a man.

Mom picked a store I'd never have walked into on my own. Quiet, with soft carpet and racks holding three items each with enormous gaps between them. No price tags in sight. Mom always told me to avoid stores like that, but apparently the rules didn't apply to her.

She walked along the racks and a minute later took one of the hangers down.

A navy dress, below the knee. Elbow-length sleeves and a very modest neckline right up at the throat. Very strict, but expensive-looking.

"Here," Mom said, and held it up against me. "This is your size."

"Babe, it's a dinner, not a funeral," Elsa said, for some reason to me and not to Mom.

Mom looked at her.

"It is a dinner at my friend's."

"All the more reason! Friends are watching." Elsa took something black and insanely short off the next rack. It had thin straps at the top, so I figured it was more of a nightie than anything you'd wear out. "Here. This is a classic. The little black dress. Looks great on everybody."

"No," Mom said.

"Why not?"

"Because only sluts go around in things like that, and my son is not one of them," she snapped.

Elsa smiled. But it was far from a sweet little smile. More like Elsa knew a little more about me than my mother did.

Funny thing was, Elsa herself was wearing almost the same dress, give or take a few details.

"Babe, come on, tell her," Elsa urged me, while sneaking glances at Mom. "You've got such a great ass. You can't hide it."

She seemed to think I was capable of debating anything at all with my own mother. If I'd had that kind of superpower, we wouldn't be standing in this fucking store right now.

The saleswoman watched us, then pretended to be very busy folding a T-shirt.

"I am perfectly aware of all of my son's assets." Mom paused. "Including his behind."

"But did you really notice it in these jeans?"

"I see it every day."

It seemed neither of them wanted to lose. I looked at the rack and thought how wonderful it would be to be a hanger. You just hang there, not bothering anyone, and nobody tells you you're supposed to become a chandelier.

In the next store, Mom took down a burgundy dress. Also below the knee, the same sleeves, but with a riskier neckline. Apparently this was her concession.

"Classic," Elsa remarked. "My grandma wore something just like it."

Mom hung the dress back up.

Further on, in yet another store, Elsa picked out a red dress. Short, with the back open almost down to the ass. Mom didn't even bother commenting; she just looked at Elsa like a cockroach in the kitchen, and Elsa got the message on her own.

They argued about everything. About length, about color, about modern fashion and even about etiquette. Heels came up among the other topics too. Words like "elegant," "funeral," and "slut" kept getting thrown around. Mom spoke calmly and never raised her voice. Elsa was always in a hurry, kept trying to get me on her side, and sounded kind of anxious.

And neither of them gave a damn about my opinion.

Every now and then Mom told me to stand up straight. Elsa lifted my hoodie to show my mother my waist. Turned me around to show off my ass.

Mom watched with irritation as Elsa touched my ass like she owned it.

I tried not to inflame the already red-hot atmosphere.

I figured out very quickly that the moment I took one of their sides, my life would turn into hell. It seemed like they could start a war right there in the mall if one of them said something careless. So I simply obeyed. I was a mannequin, and they were deciding how to dress it.

In the fourth store, a saleswoman came up to us. Young, with a little ponytail and a name tag.

"Can I help you girls find anything?" she asked.

She was looking at all three of us. And apparently she'd counted me as one of the girls too. Either of them could have set her straight, but the only thing Elsa straightened was the ponytail at the back of her head.

"Thank you, we are fine," Mom answered.

"If you need anything, just holler, girls." The saleswoman smiled and walked off.

At one point Mom was holding a gray dress and Elsa a pink one, and they both turned to me.

"Maybe this one?" they asked almost in unison.

It was the first time anyone had asked me anything. I didn't like either of them. But I also had no idea what I was even supposed to be choosing.

"I don't know," I answered.

They both looked at me with condescending expressions.

A couple of stores later, Mom stopped by the racks.

"This is not working," she said suddenly.

"Agreed," Elsa snorted.

Well, at least they agreed on something.

"I propose we divide the areas of responsibility," Mom said. "I will choose the dress. It is a dinner at my friend's, and I am responsible for how Niko looks."

"And what do I get?" Elsa asked, irritated.

"You will choose everything that goes under the dress."

Elsa thought it over. She was good at haggling, but maybe not as good as my mother. A sly smile appeared on Elsa's face.

"Underwear?" she clarified.

"Yes."

"All of it?"

"All of it."

"Deal," Elsa said.

Elsa found a lingerie store so fast you'd think she knew the mall better than I knew my own room.

Inside: pink decor, a pleasant kind of warmth, and a smell that instantly made me picture hundreds of Elsa clones. Lace on the racks, lace on the mannequins, lace in the glass display cases. Mom came in after us, looked around, and sat down on an ottoman by the fitting rooms.

Elsa went along the racks with a kind of unhealthy zeal, tugging me by the hand. She grabbed sets, held them up against me, wrinkled her nose, and hung them back. Black, she said, was boring. Red was for something else. White was for prom. Pink was too cute, and we were going for a different effect.

Then she suddenly stopped.

"This," Elsa said, and took a set off the rack. "This is the one."

It was lingerie in bright yellow, like a lemon. A lace bra on thin straps with tiny triangle cups, and matching lace panties, full-cut at the back, but not enough to actually cover anything. From the next shelf she added yellow stockings with lace bands in the same color.

"Weird color," I said.

"Babe, you're pale. You need a little color."

"Meh."

"It's going to look fantastic, babe." She turned to Mom. "Well?"

Mom looked at the yellow lace.

"Astonishingly tasteless," she replied.

"That's your opinion," Elsa said with a wave of her hand.

Mom said nothing. A deal is a deal. For someone in her profession, that was an important rule.

"Miss," Elsa called to the saleswoman. "The smallest bra you've got. Do you have a double-A? Awesome!"

While the saleswoman hunted for such a rarity, Elsa went to the register and pulled out her card.

"In this family, I pay for him," Mom said, not letting Elsa pay.

And though it came out fairly gently, Elsa got a little upset. She put the card back in her purse and snipped the tags off with the scissors at the register.

Elsa came into the fitting room with me.

"Elsa," I whispered. "Mom's right there."

"So what? She's outside." Elsa pulled the curtain shut. "And anyway, it's not like I'm going to see anything new. Strip."

The fitting room was cramped. One whole wall was a mirror, and on the other two hung a few small hooks; Elsa hung the yellow lingerie set on one of them. I pulled off my hoodie, then my jeans and pantyhose.

"Oh, those are mine," Elsa announced happily when she saw them.

The black panties fell last. And just like that I was standing naked in the fitting room of a lingerie store. On the other side of the thinnest of curtains sat my mom, and my girlfriend was helping me into the underwear she'd picked out. Life can be amazing.

"Foot," she said.

I lifted my foot. She slipped it into the panties, pulled them up along my thighs to my ass, then adjusted the front so everything fit. The lace prickled a little, but at the same time it felt very soft. My dick was starting to figure out what was going on and so was waking up. Elsa tucked it down with one finger.

"So tiny," she murmured to herself. "Fits so nicely in the panties."

Very nice to hear. Not.

Next came the bra. She put the straps over my shoulders and fastened it in the back. The cups settled on my flat chest and, naturally, didn't fill up with anything, but they looked more like a decorative element anyway. Elsa sat down on a little stool in the corner and set my foot on her knee. She expertly rolled a stocking from my toes up to my thigh. Smoothed it out with her palms and did the same with the other leg.

"Wait, don't move yet." She adjusted the lace band on my thigh. "There."

Then she stood behind me, rested her chin on my shoulder, and looked in the mirror.

"Babe," she said in a whisper. "Just look at yourself."

That's exactly what I was doing. I felt ashamed right away. It all looked so wrong.

"Don't take it off," Elsa said. "We still have to try on the dress. Get dressed and let's go."

I pulled my jeans and hoodie on over the yellow lace. Elsa stuffed the pantyhose into a bag.

Mom already knew which dress she wanted to see on me, so next we headed purposefully to another store. This time Elsa didn't show much interest and looked at the purses in the display window.

Mom chose a navy sheath dress, fitted, with short sleeves and a shallow round neckline. No straps, no slits, no sequins. Strict enough to wear to Mom's office. But she'd made a huge concession, because the dress ended at mid-thigh.

Elsa actually perked up and raised her eyebrows.

"Short?" she asked.

"He has pretty legs," Mom remarked. "We can show them a little, but not too much."

Elsa didn't say anything, but in the fitting room, as she zipped up the back, she whispered into the back of my head:

"Babe. She picked the short one." As if this were some kind of holiday.

The dress fit pretty snugly, as if it had been tailored to my figure. The short sleeves covered the bra straps. The lace didn't show in the modest neckline. My legs stood out pretty indecently against the rest of it.

Elsa pulled back the curtain.

"Come out," she said.

I came out.

Out on the floor stood a big full-length mirror in a gold frame. Mom got up from the ottoman. Elsa came and stood next to me.

I looked in the mirror and didn't recognize myself at all.

Of course, I still remembered who I was. Not in that sense.

In the mirror stood a girl. Skinny, a little pale, with dark chin-length hair, in a navy dress that hugged her figure so that all her strengths and flaws were on display. The small breasts could hardly be put on the list of flaws. Personally, I liked them better that way. A slim waist and noticeable hips. An ass that was round and pert. On her legs, yellow stockings that made my legs look longer and prettier than they really were. I hadn't known they were that good.

The sneakers were awful, but I tried to imagine they weren't on me.

This girl was beautiful. Very. If I'd seen her at college, I'd have watched her until she turned the corner. If I'd seen her on Pornhub, I wouldn't have rested until I'd seen her get fucked in the ass.

My dick twitched.

I didn't even understand what was happening. I just looked at the girl in the mirror, and my dick kept getting harder and harder. It quickly got cramped in the panties. My dick pushed against the lace, shoved it aside, and slipped out, and after that the only thing holding it in was the dress. And the dress was so thin and tight that it hid absolutely nothing. A bulge appeared at the front of the navy fabric. A small one. Tiny, as Elsa would say. But very noticeable.

I wanted to fuck the girl in the mirror. But that girl was me. And that didn't bother my arousal one bit.

Mom was looking at me. First at my face, through the mirror. Then her gaze dropped and stopped on the bulge. Lingered there for a couple of seconds and slowly rose again.

I was expecting some creepy comment from her, but she didn't say anything; she just smiled.

That was how she looked at me when she was pleased. It seemed like she was proud of me.

Mom stepped up behind me, put her hands on my shoulders, and pressed down slightly, squaring them. It hurt a little and was uncomfortable, but I tried to memorize the position.

"Stand up straight," she said quietly. "In clothes like these, you must keep your posture."

She looked at the two of us in the mirror. At me--and at herself behind me.

"Finally," Mom said. "Finally you look like a man. You look like the son I always wanted."

I didn't look like anyone you could call by either of those two words. I honestly tried to figure out what she meant. Maybe to her a man is someone who keeps quiet and always does as she says. If so, then I was definitely the manliest person on the planet.

Elsa stood off to the side, saying nothing. That even surprised me a little, but then she leaned in to my ear, so close I could feel her breath.

"Babe," she whispered. "That's a thousand dollars for a couple of hours. I'm serious."

"What?" I whispered back.

"No-thing."

She smiled sweetly and pulled away.

"We will take it," Mom said.

In the fitting room Elsa helped me out of the dress. I wanted to take off the underwear too, but Elsa had other plans.

"You can leave the underwear on," she said, and slapped my hand.

"Why?"

"You'll get used to it a little, otherwise it'll feel weird at the restaurant. Plus it'll make me happy that you're walking around in what I picked."

Changing back into my black panties and pantyhose wasn't important enough to me to argue about. So I pulled my jeans and hoodie on over the yellow lace. Looked in the mirror. Now it was just plain old me again. That's magic for you.

Mom paid for the dress and took the bag.

"What about shoes?" Elsa asked when we left the store. "Babe, this dress needs heels, you can't do sneakers with it. I know this one place..."

"We will buy shoes during the week," Mom said. "I am already tired of these stores."

"I could help..."

"I can manage to choose shoes."

And with that we stopped discussing shoes and headed for the exit.

The new lace felt strange under my clothes. I kept being afraid someone would hear my bra rubbing against my hoodie.

Elsa's phone rang.

She looked at the screen, and her face changed at once.

"It's work," she said, and put a finger to her lips.

Elsa walked a few steps away from us.

"Yes... Hello," drifted over to me. Her voice had gone lower and slower. "Of course I remember... Today? What time?"

Mom followed her with her eyes.

"I need to visit the ladies' room," she said. "Come along."

"I don't need to."

"You will hold my purse."

And she took my hand.

The women's restroom was at the end of the hallway past the food court. Big and bright, with a row of sinks and a mirror covering the whole wall. Two women were doing their makeup at the mirror. One of them glanced at us in the reflection. Maybe she was surprised, but she didn't show it at all.

I followed Mom and tried not to look at anyone. It was my first time in a women's restroom, after all. The mall had decent restrooms, so instead of bleach and the usual stink, it smelled of floral soap and perfume.

Mom walked past the stalls all the way to the end. There was a separate door there, and behind it a single-occupancy room. Toilet, sink, a mirror above it, and a hook for a purse. Mom led me inside, closed the door, and turned the latch.

The click sounded loud and stern.

I didn't have to hold her purse after all, because she hung it on the hook. She apparently had no intention of using the restroom at all.

"Come here," Mom said, and stood me in front of the sink, facing the mirror, while she stood behind me.

The mirror showed the two of us. Me in my hoodie, like some invisible gray mouse, and Mom. We were about the same height, and her chin ended up almost on my shoulder. Her brown eyes looked at me from the reflection.

"You were very good today," she said.

Her voice was different. Not the way she'd talked to Elsa. And not the way she usually talked to me. Quieter and softer.

"You did not argue. You did not whine. You did what I asked. You obeyed." Her hands settled on my shoulders. "You were so beautiful, Niko. I saw the way you looked at yourself in the mirror. I have waited so long for you to finally see what I have seen all along."

I didn't know what to say to that.

"That girl..." Mom said, meaning Elsa.

I tensed up a little.

"She is sweet. Have fun with her. Have fun with whoever you like, Niko. At your age that is normal, I do not mind at all." Her hands slid off my shoulders and slowly crept down my arms. "But you do understand that none of this is serious. These are passing infatuations. They come and they go. Nothing will ever come of any of it. Not with her, not with anyone else."

In the mirror she looked me straight in the eye. I couldn't look away.

"But Mom will always be with you," she said. "They always come and go, but Mom stays. Only Mom truly loves you."

She hugged me and locked her arms around my stomach over the hoodie. She pressed herself against me. I felt her breasts against my back and her breath on my neck. She smelled of the same strict perfume as always.

"You are finally becoming a man," Mom whispered in my ear. "The man I always pictured you as. I knew he was in there. I only had to wait a little."

Her fingers found the button on my jeans.

And undid it.

I watched it in the mirror and couldn't believe my eyes. Mom's hands on the button of my jeans. Mom's fingers on the zipper. None of it would add up in my head.

"Mom?" I said.

"Shh," Mom whispered.

The zipper slid down.

She took hold of the waistband of my jeans on both sides and pulled. They always got stuck at mid-thigh, but Mom managed to tug them down to my knees in one motion. Then she pushed my hoodie up to my shoulder blades.

Mom saw everything: the yellow panties, part of the stockings, and my dick, which had already half escaped from the lace and was sticking out sideways. She ran a fingernail along the lace band of the stocking on my thigh.

"This suits you even better than I imagined," she explained.

She laid her palm between my shoulder blades and pressed gently.

I bent over the sink, but not far, only enough to brace my hands on it. It was cold. My phone slipped out of my hoodie pocket, but I managed to catch it and set it on the edge of the sink so it wouldn't be in the way.

Mom slid a hand into the back pocket of her jeans and took out a black hair tie. With some excitement and a touch of fear, I watched her raise her arms and gather her hair at the back of her head in three quick movements. Now she could easily have joined the ranks of the cheerleaders.

She sank to her knees and disappeared from the mirror. Her warm palms settled on my cheeks. She squeezed them, as if testing. Then she hooked her fingers in the yellow lace and pulled the panties down so they stretched taut between my thighs. My dick finally felt free and bobbed by the sink.

Then she spread my cheeks apart, and I immediately felt a coolness in an unusual place. She was looking.

"Mom," I said again. My voice was shaking.

She didn't answer.

Instead I felt her breath. Warm, and so thrilling. And then her tongue.

Fuck.

It was something else. I knew people did this. I'd seen it in porn, of course. And Elsa had spent half an hour this very morning telling me about it on the phone. But I'd never thought it could be... like this.

Her tongue was hot and so wet. At first she just ran it from bottom to top, slowly, flat, starting at my balls and ending near my tailbone. I shuddered and grabbed the sink. She did it again, then focused on my asshole. She circled it with the tip of her tongue and took her time, as if we weren't in a mall restroom at that very moment.

My knees nearly buckled. I'd definitely have fallen if it weren't for the sink.

"Oh," I said.

Mom wrapped the tips of her fingers around my dick, barely touching it, and stroked up and down. Very slowly and lazily. My foreskin slid pleasantly over the head of my cock. That's not how you jerk someone off when you want them to come. It was more like flirting.

And her tongue just kept going.

She pressed harder. The tip of her tongue pushed right into the center, and I felt my asshole give in, relax, and let her deeper. Just a tiny bit. But it was enough for me. A whole lot of precum came leaking out of my cock, all of it right onto her fingers.

I looked in the mirror.

There was a girl there with her mouth open, red cheeks, and eyes clouded with lust. Her hair covered part of her face, and she was breathing hard.

Mom pulled back. I nearly moaned in disappointment, and then I felt her pulling my cock down. A second later her lips closed around the head.

She took it all the way into her mouth, and her nose pressed into my balls. I didn't hear any sign of a gag reflex, as if it cost her nothing at all. She held it like that and slowly worked her tongue over the head.

Then she let go.

"Mom..."

Her tongue went back to my asshole.

She repeated this every few minutes, timing it perfectly to keep me as close to the edge as possible.

She was teasing me.

The phone screen on the edge of the sink lit up.

babe where are you

I looked at the screen and didn't immediately understand what it said. The letters seemed familiar, but the meaning went right past my head.

The screen lit up again.

babe

where are you guys

did you get lost or something

BABE

im standing here like an idiot by the exit

I watched it while Mom's tongue circled my asshole. She held my dick with two fingers, preferring to keep it completely under her control.

i have to be at work in an hour

babe dont be dumb

And then the phone rang. Elsa's photo lit up the screen.

The phone vibrated against the porcelain, and Mom didn't stop.

If I didn't answer Elsa now, she'd definitely make security show her the surveillance footage to find me. Then she'd see me and Mom going into the women's restroom. And God only knows what would happen after that.

I picked up the phone with a shaking hand. Swiped the screen and put it to my ear.

"Babe!" Elsa said. "Where even are you?!"

"In the bathroom," I answered honestly.

My voice was almost normal. But Mom suddenly increased the pressure on my asshole, and on the last syllable something like a squeak escaped me.

"For twenty minutes?" Elsa said indignantly. "Babe, what are you doing in there all this time?"

"I've got..." I squeezed my eyes shut. Mom was swirling her tongue in a way that made it nearly impossible to talk. "A little problem."

"What kind?"

"In the bathroom..." I swallowed. "My stomach."

"Ew, babe," Elsa said with disgust. "Okay, spare me the details. And where did your mom disappear to?"

At that moment Mom pushed her tongue an inch into my asshole.

"Mmm," I moaned softly. "I don't know. Probably also... in the bathroom."

"What, you two ate the same thing or something?" Elsa was quiet for a moment. "Why are you breathing like that?"

"Pushing," I explained.

Elsa went quiet again.

"Babe, that's disgusting," she remarked. "Anyway, I'm waiting by the exit. If you're not out in ten minutes, I'm leaving."

"Almost... done," I squeezed out. "Give me five minutes."

"Waiting," Elsa said, and hung up.

I put the phone back on the sink, and the screen went dark.

Mom was licking my asshole as though nothing else in the world interested her right now. And she seemed to be loving every second of it, so she did everything very long, slowly, and thoroughly. I heard the wet sounds and her breathing through her nose. Felt her nose press into me now and then. Felt her fingers dig into my cheeks and spread them wider.

By now I was practically lying on the sink, and all the mirror showed was one flushed cheek and one eye.

My prostate started to convulse.

It was like nothing else. Nothing like jerking off. Nothing like when Elsa had my dick in her mouth. As if Mom had found some new button on me and was pressing it. Pressing and pressing...

"Mom," I whispered. "Mom, I'm about to..."

She didn't stop. Only her palm slid off my dick and settled under the head, cupped like a ladle.

And I came.

I bumped my forehead against the mirror, but it didn't hurt. The cum came out of me in spurts, and for so long. Wave after wave. My cock got almost no attention and kept twitching on its own, pumping everything out into Mom's palm. I moaned quietly.

Mom kept licking my asshole until the last wave passed and my legs stopped shaking.

Then she pulled away.

I stood there, bent over, and couldn't move yet. My ears were even ringing.

Mom got up off her knees. I saw her in the mirror. Her chin was glistening and her lipstick was smeared. My cum was in her right palm, and there was a lot more of it than I'd thought.

She took my chin with her other hand and turned my face toward her.

"Open your mouth," Mom said.

I opened it.

She brought her palm to my lips, tilted it, and the cum flowed into my mouth. Warm, thick, salty, and a little bitter. I already knew that taste very well. But this time there was so much of it that it filled my whole mouth and even ran down my chin.

Then Mom kissed me. Very deep, with tongue. And so greedily I could barely resist. She slowly stole my own cum out of my mouth and swallowed it. I felt her swallow, again and again. Her hand held the back of my head and didn't let go until Mom had taken all the cum from me.

Then she pulled back. Ran her thumb over my lips and wiped the last of her lipstick off them.

"Zip up," Mom said.

She turned to the mirror. Pulled the tie out of her hair, shook her head, and her hair spilled over her shoulders. She took a lipstick out of her purse and touched up her lips. Then she washed her hands.

I was pulling up my jeans. My fingers barely obeyed me; the button just wouldn't go into the buttonhole.

Mom dried her hands with paper towels and threw them in the trash. She picked up her purse and the bag and opened the door.

Elsa was waiting outside the restroom. She was tapping her heel on the tile, very irritated and impatient.

"Finally!" She saw me and nearly jumped. "Babe! You're alive!"

She came over and gave Mom a displeased look. And then she threw her arms around my neck and kissed me.

Very long and demonstratively, with tongue, the whole time glancing sideways at Mom. Looked like I'd ended up between two tigresses yet again.

Something went cold inside me.

Elsa didn't say anything when she pulled away and licked her lips. She smiled as if nothing unusual had happened.

She took my arm, tightly, with both hands, and glanced at Mom again.

Elsa was looking at her condescendingly.

Mom just smiled sweetly. Warmly, sincerely, kindly. As if she saw no threat in Elsa at all.