Mandy Makes a Man of Mark

INTRODUCTION & DISCLAIMER - Set in Miami in 1964, this tale features the story of Mark, an 18-year-old student and Mandy, the mini-skirted single mother who lives across the street. Mark has always liked Mandy, but his prejudiced, God-fearing mother detests her, thinking she represents everything sinful in society today. Mark's long-suffering father just wants to read his newspaper and enjoy a peaceful life.

Will Mark be tempted by Mandy's charms, or will he listen to his mother and avoid sin? Read this story to find out.

All characters and events are entirely fictional, with any similarity to real people, living or dead, coincidental and unintentional. Only characters aged 18 and older engage in sexual activity. Enjoy, please rate and comment, and check out my other submissions on this site.

*****

"She's out there again, Harry."

Mark Richards looked up from his breakfast as his mother stared out of the kitchen window and into the sunny Saturday Florida morning. Mark stifled a sigh at his mother's agitated posture, and her unwavering staring at the house across the road.

Mark's father Harry wanted to read his newspaper over breakfast, not get into one of his wife's frequent rants. He took a sip of coffee. "Who's out there, Phyllis?" he asked patiently.

"Who do you think, Harry? Mandy Mathers, who else? Out there pretending to work in her garden, flaunting herself to all the men in the town, advertising things that shouldn't be for sale. Why else would she be in her garden so early in the morning?"

Mark thought it was unlikely, given that they lived in Miami that all the men in town would pass up the street to get a look at Mandy Mathers. Well, it was possible, but thousands of men walking, cycling and driving automobiles up and down the street would create a great deal of noise and disturbance.

"Relax Phyllis, Mandy Mathers is just doing some gardening," Harry asserted. "Nothing more, and nothing less."

"Will you look at what she is wearing," said Phyllis Richards, again staring out the window. "As a mother of two teenage girls, she should be ashamed of herself."

"What is she wearing, Phyllis? A bikini?" asked her husband.

"Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you?" challenged Phyllis. "No, she's wearing those terrible pedal-pusher pants like a teenager, and no doubt when she's finished in the garden, she'll go and put on one of her miniskirts, and bring down the tone of her neighborhood with her sin and depravity." She turned to her son. "Would you like it if I wore pedal-pusher pants and mini-skirts, Mark?"

"No Mom," said Mark. He most definitely did not want his mother to wear the aforementioned clothes, given that she was probably not first in line for looks the year she was born, and that she weighed about 250 pounds, this steadily increasing with each passing year.

"I'm glad I raised you right, Mark," said Phyllis. "Just make sure you keep away from that dreadful woman and her sinful ways and don't let her lead you astray. Oh look, now the two girls are out there too. She's a terrible influence on those girls. Not only does she let them listen to that new music from England by the Insects, she listens to it too."

"You mean the Beatles," put in her husband.

"I'm sorry?" asked Phyllis.

"You said that the popular music group from England is called the Insects. They're called the Beatles," said Harry.

"It doesn't matter what they're called, Harry, these so-called musical bands from England will be the end of society as we know it. You know, Mandy Mathers lets the girls watch television shows where teenagers dance to that music. No good can come of it Harry, you mark my words."

Mark sighed under his breath, and listened to his mother as she continued to rant about modern music and how it would be the end of the world. This was nothing new. Nearly ten years ago, his mother had been horrified by the rise of this strange new music called rock and roll that young adults, teenagers and children loved. She was even more dismayed that her two sons and daughter liked the terrifying compositions, which Phyllis Richards saw as posing a greater danger to her children's safety than polio or atomic bombs.

However, Mark had heard his mother's sister say that during the Second World War, his mother as a young woman had believed that engaging in activities such as swing dancing, jive and jitterbug were the pinnacle of sin, and that the world would suffer God's wrath as a result. Nearly two decades had gone by since, and there had been no terrible disaster inflicted upon the world by a God angered by swing dancing. Mark pondered if his mother when a child in the 1920s had watched disapprovingly as teenagers and young adults went to dance halls and danced the Charleston. Knowing his mother, Mark could well believe it.

"It's not just England that's flooding our country with this music, we're producing enough of it on our own," Phyllis continued to her indifferent husband. "That surf music in California for one, encouraging young people to wear next to nothing riding through the water on those boards. Some of our young men are fighting the Japanese in Vietnam, while other young people are engaging in that hedonistic behavior ..."

Harry sighed and put down his newspaper. "Phyllis, they're not fighting against the Japanese in Vietnam. I fought against the Japanese in the Second World War."

"Well, who are we fighting now if not the Japanese?" his wife challenged.

"The North Vietnamese," explained Harry.

Phyllis shrugged. "Japanese, Vietnamese, Chinese, they're all the same aren't they?"

"No, they're completely different," said Harry. "You can't go around saying they're all the same, people will take offense. The Japanese have nothing to do with Vietnam. America are assisting the South Vietnamese against the communist North Vietnamese."

"Aren't the Japanese communists?" his wife wanted to know.

"No, they are not communists at all," her husband assured her. "Now, how about you stop worrying about communists, Vietnam and Japan on such a nice Saturday morning and think about the church bake sale? I know how much you enjoy the bake sale."

Mark thought somewhat unkindly that his mother enjoyed the church bake sales a little too much by her girth, but obviously would never express this thought aloud. He also wished, not for the first time, that he had been born just a few weeks earlier, then he would have graduated high school in June as part of the class of 1964, and been off to college like his older sister Diane, not sitting here listening to one of his mother's ignorant rants.

Looking at his parents, Mark mused again not for the first time, what had drawn the dissimilar pair together years earlier. His father had been a handsome and dashing young man and while wearing the uniform of the US Navy, a hero in the Second World War. His mother had always been dowdy, critical and negative, even when younger and slimmer. It was fortunate that Mark and his older brother Sam, who was married with a young son of his own and another baby on the way, had inherited the good looks of their father - light brown hair, blue eyes and tall with an athletic build. Likewise, Diane looked more like her father's pretty sister than her own mother. While Phyllis Richards had obviously given birth to and raised Sam, Diane and Mark, her children had not so much as a passing resemblance to her in looks nor personality. It was like she had had nothing to do with them at all.

"I would enjoy it far better if she wasn't there ruining it," said Phyllis bitterly, getting her bulk up and again glaring across the street at the Mathers' house.

"What's wrong with Mandy Mathers coming to the bake sale?" asked Harry.

"Well aside from the fact that she will without doubt be wearing one of her mini-skirts without shame, she's bringing some cakes for the stall."

Harry shrugged. "Well it is a bake sale."

"You don't understand Harry, she's making cakes from Australia."

"What's the matter with cakes from Australia, Phyllis?"

"It's a communist country, Harry." Mark and Harry stifled sighs at this latest statement of ignorance, as Phyllis continued. "Do you think Mandy Mathers might be a communist, Harry? If she brings food from a communist country like Australia to a bake sale, then there is every chance that she might be a secret communist as well as everything else."

Harry shook his head. "Phyllis, Australia is not a communist country."

"Are you sure, Harry? It's a very strange country. They have all these peculiar animals and plants ..."

"I was in Australia during the war, Phyllis. Australia is not a communist country. And I doubt very much that Mandy Mathers is a communist."

His wife snorted in derision. "Communist or not, she's still a corrupting influence in our neighborhood with her short skirts, no husband in sight and two girls with obviously different fathers."

Harry rolled his eyebrows. "Phyllis, Donna and Jodie Mathers are twins."

"Twins? They look nothing alike. One has blonde hair, the other one red hair."

"The Mathers girls are non-identical twins, Phyllis. But that they are twins means that they obviously have the same parents."

"Well, living across the road from a sinful woman obviously doesn't bother you, Harry," snapped Phyllis. "Would you be happy if a homosexual moved in next door, driving past schools and playgrounds all day, luring boys and girls to his car with candy?"

"I don't think that's going to happen," said Harry.

"It could, Harry. We could have a homosexual living right next door, to go with the harlot across the road. We could have Negroes move into the house on the other side and Jews behind us just to make everything perfect. But if you're happy to live like that, then go ahead and do nothing."

Mark stifled a sigh, frustrated by his mother's racist and anti-Semitic views of the world. He and his sister and brother like their father had no problem with people of different racial backgrounds and were pro-integration, just like they had no issues with Jewish people. Phyllis Richards, however, clung to her prejudiced views with an iron grip and did not even like Roman Catholics. Years earlier, Mark had befriended a girl up the street and they would walk to school together, until his mother put a stop to the friendship upon learning that the girl was from a Catholic family.

Harry clearly did not want to continue the conversation, and got up from the table. "It's a nice day, and I need to make a start on sorting out the garage."

"Are you driving me to the bake sale?" his wife wanted to know. Phyllis had never learned to drive an automobile, and therefore was dependent upon her husband, kids and other relatives or friends to drive her places when she was unable to take a bus.

"I think I might give it a miss Phyllis, I don't want to eat too many sweet treats," said Harry. "Mark can drive you instead."

Mark really did not want to go to the bake sale, but his father had spoken so Mark nodded in agreement. "Okay," he said, also getting up from the table. "I'll just weed the front garden before we go."

"Don't get too dirty, I want you presentable when we go to the church," his mother warned him. "And don't associate with that dreadful woman, don't let her corrupt you with her sin. Watch out for the girls too, like mother like daughter."

Mark was pretty sure he would be safe from Mandy Mathers and given that Donna and Jodie were in his year at school and did not go around corrupting him or other students, he was safe there too. His mother was absolutely unbelievable at times. "Yes Mom," he said simply to placate her, and went outside into the warm sunny Florida morning.

Given his mother had been obsessing over Mandy Mathers all morning, Mark's attention immediately went to the woman across the road as she continued to work on her garden. However, this was not the only reason. It was close to impossible for any man to avoid looking at her. Mark had no idea how old Mandy was, presumably she was aged in her mid to late thirties, forty at most and had had the girls when she was young. The Mathers family had only moved in during the summer of 1963 and neither Donna nor Jodie had spoken much of their background, so their mother's age remained a mystery. However, no matter what age Mandy Mathers was, there was no denying she was a stunningly attractive woman.

Reasonably tall and with an amazingly slim figure for a woman who had carried and given birth to twins in her younger years, Mandy's stylish, straight dark brown hair that framed her very pretty face with big blue eyes cascaded down to her shoulders, reflecting the morning sunlight as she weeded the garden bed nearest the mailbox. Mark tried to avoid staring at his neighbor as she went about her work, but his eyes were unable to prevent drifting to Mandy's chest, where her ample breasts filled her shirt, and her bottom as she bent over to tackle a particularly stubborn weed. Mark could see the perfect shape of Mandy's buttocks through her pedal pusher pants, and although he was some distance away he could just make out the outline of Mandy's panties.

Feeling slightly guilty about observing a woman old enough to be his mother in such away, Mark's attention turned to her daughters. Although Mandy, Donna and Jodie did not look all that similar -Mandy had brown hair, Donna blonde and Jodie red hair for a start - the two girls were as stunning as their mother.

Donna, who was raking up some leaves, wore a blue blouse and a matching mini-skirt, her long blonde hair styled back with a matching blue hairband. The girl was a member of the cheerleading squad and despite only enrolling in the high school for her junior year, Donna had immediately been accepted into the popular group, and was dating the school's football star Jeff.

Jodie, today dressed in a green miniskirt and a matching blouse as she pulled out weeds, was no less attractive than her twin sister, but was quieter and kept a lower profile. One of Mark's friends had been particularly taken with the pretty redhead and asked her out on a date, but Jodie had politely refused, as she had refused dates with other guys likewise captivated by her good looks, and the girl had no boyfriend out of school either. Since commencing her new school, Jodie had immediately become best friends with Tammy Grant, a girl who Mark had known since kindergarten.

Tammy had always been an unusual sort of girl, wanting to play with trucks, throw a football around and build forts rather than play with dolls when younger, and always insisting on dressing in shirts, jeans and trousers rather than dresses and skirts. In Junior High, Tammy had raised quite a stir when she complained that she was forced to do cooking, sewing and typing with the other girls rather than woodwork, metalwork and mechanical workshop with the boys like she wanted. Her parents and the deputy headmistress had sat down with the girl and had a long talk to Tammy about how boys do metalwork, woodwork and workshop; and girls cooking, sewing and typing, and that was it and there was no amount of protesting on her part that could change the way things were.

Jodie and Tammy immediately had seemed to find some sort of connection when Jodie arrived in town, eating lunch together, walking to classes together and to and from school, Tammy carrying Jodie's books. They spent most of their time outside of school together too. Mark had never seen two female best friends so close before, but then he reasoned that as he was obviously a boy, he could probably not understand how girls' minds worked.

Mandy looked up from her work, and gave Mark a friendly smile and a wave. "Hi Mark, how are you on such a beautiful Saturday morning?"

"Hi Mrs. Mathers, good thanks," Mark called back. He turned to Mandy's daughters. "Hi Donna, hi Jodie," he called, giving the girls a friendly wave.

Donna and Jodie also smiled and waved. "Hi Mark," the teenagers called back to their classmate.

He continued to talk with Mandy and her daughters across the road about everyday things as they all worked on their gardens, until Mark turned and saw his mother's furious face staring at him from inside the house, clearly not pleased that Mark had failed to heed her warnings about not associating with the woman across the road.

Everyone had nearly finished their work anyway, and as Donna and Jodie went inside to wash the dirt from their hands, two cars drew up outside the Mathers' house, one driven by Donna's boyfriend Jeff and the other by Jodie's friend Tammy. Tammy, who always wore her hair short was as usual dressed in a shirt and jeans. Mark struggled to recall the last time he saw her wearing a skirt or a dress.

As Donna and Jodie emerged from the house, they bade their mother goodbye and went to Jeff and Tammy respectively. While pulling out the last, and most stubborn of the weeds, Mark noticed that Jeff held the passenger door open for Donna and put a hand on her back to guide his girlfriend into the car, closing the door after her. At the same time, Tammy opened the passenger door of her car for Jodie, putting her hand on Jodie's back to guide her into the car, closing the door after her.

Watching the cars drive up the road, Mark thought it a little strange that Tammy had behaved the same way towards Jodie as Jeff had towards Donna, but dismissed these musings, assuming that there was a perfectly innocent explanation for this.

Mandy collected her gardening tools. "So, are you going to the church bake sale today Mark?" she asked.

Mark nodded. "Yes, I'm driving Mom down there this morning."

"Well, I guess I'll see you down there then," Mandy commented.

"Yes, see you then, Mrs. Mathers," said Mark. He was never sure what to call Mandy. She was not married, but she never corrected him when he called her Mrs. Mathers, so he thought it best to continue with this. As Mark returned to his house, he could see his mother continuing to glare at him in complete disapproval at his terrible crime of speaking politely to their neighbor, and knew that the drive to the church would probably not be an enjoyable one.

*

Mark's instincts were correct. The drive to the church was a short one, but to Mark it felt as long as if he had driven his mother from Miami to Seattle. All the way there, his mother had lectured him about sin, and how Mandy Mathers was the major perpetrator of sin in their neighborhood, trying to corrupt impressionable young men like Mark into sinful ways too. According to Phyllis, it was too late for Mandy Mathers. Upon Mandy's death, God would judge and punish her by sending her to Hell to burn for eternity due to her continual breaches of His commandments. However, it was not too late for Mark - if he avoided associating with Mandy and other people like her he would be able to avoid sin, and therefore not end up in Hell with her too.

Arriving at the church, Mark hoped he could make his escape, but his mother made it clear that she wanted her chauffeur close handy, so to his great dismay the young man was forced to stay by her side as she talked to her friends Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Jones and Mrs. Brown.

The three women his mother was friends with were similar to her in many ways; their already considerable girths were expanding year by year and they spent most of their time discussing their prejudiced and wildly inaccurate views of the world, and their beliefs that most fun activities were sin that would anger God and cause His vengeance.

The first topic on the agenda seemed to be Roman Catholics, Mrs. Smith lamenting that the new typist at the company where her husband worked was Catholic. Phyllis sympathized with her friend, stating how she had acted quickly to stop a growing friendship between Mark and a Catholic girl when he was younger.