Mom Gets Marked

I handed the vape cart back to my hot roommate. "Last chance to come with me, sis," I said. "You can meet Tyler...." I added in a sing-songy voice, still trying to entice her.

August had already said she couldn't make it, and I didn't really expect her to change her mind, but she surprised me. "You know what?" she said, still hitting the vape. "Fuck it, I'll come. It's no fun here when you're not around. And if you're leaving me for a boy, I should at least meet him."

A compliment like that, from my number one girl crush, went straight to my head faster than her marijuana. How I kept cool I'll never know. I wanted to scream with excitement.

The ride home flew by. August played me G-Flip's cover of "Cruel Summer" and the two of us traded verses on it until suddenly we were in my driveway, just in time to catch the last orange rays of sunset.

"Here we are," I said, stepping out of the car and waving an arm at my mother's modest ranch. "This is my childhood home -- this is where it all began!"

It seems like everyone in college is rich, so I'm sure August's family has a lot more money than mine, but she wasn't snooty about it. She pretended our shitty little house is great and she made it completely believable. My girl was already hot as a pistol, but the fact that she is so down to earth makes her even more attractive in my book.

My mother and August hit it off immediately. While I played with Tyler in the living room, those two cackled like old friends. Mom even changed into her date night outfit in front of August and considering how much my mother and I look alike, that was almost like August seeing me without my clothes. Clearly she liked what she saw because August was hyping my mother up, telling her that she looks incredible and how lucky her date is.

She wasn't wrong.. Mom looked stunning as she twirled for us, showing off a casual pattern dress with a chic jacket on top, paired with some black leather boots. I was impressed. Mom's clothing choices are usually so unadventurous, but this was a surprisingly cute fit. I swear I caught August staring at my mom's huge tits as they jiggled alluringly under her jacket. Mom didn't notice anything, however, as she was preoccupied with giving Tyler about a million goodbye kisses and giving me last-minute instructions on feeding him, bathing him and putting him down to sleep. As she finished reminding me to warm up Tyler's bottle before giving it to him -- as if I didn't know -- we were momentarily blinded by the glare of ultra high beam headlights piercing the window in the family room.

"That must be Mark," I said, squinting and shielding my eyes. I wanted to like this guy. After all, I was sending my mother on a date with him. But if I'm keeping it a buck, I'm a tiny bit put off by "Mark_U." I can't really explain why, but I'm in my college feminist era, and big men who drive big trucks seem insecure, like they're overcompensating for something that maybe isn't so big. They might as well wear a sign that says "I have a micropenis."

Mom touched up her lipstick while I peered out at the driveway, where a heavy duty pickup was idling loudly, spewing exhaust. I tried to shake off my misgivings and stay positive. Mom was overdue for a fun night out. It would be good for her -- it would help remind her she's still a young woman. Lord knows the Boomer needs it.

"Have fun, Ms. Mayer! Don't do anything we wouldn't do!" August called out to my mom on her way out the door.

Mom stopped just long enough to flash us a wry smile. "I'm sure I won't," was all she said. That seemed like a safe bet. Mom isn't exactly the sexually liberated type. I know she doesn't own a vibrator, she wears cliothes from JC Fucking Penny and the only man she has taken to bed in the past few years poops his pants on the regular.

Speaking of my baby bro, Mom burst back inside the house, less than 30 seconds after leaving, just so she could kiss Tyler a few more times before hurrying back out again in a tizzy. "Ok, I'm going for real this time!" she said as she scurried out the door as fast as those black leather boots would take her.

August and I watched from the window as Mark got out of his truck and ambled around to the passenger side to open the door for my mother. At least he was kidding about not letting the air conditioning escape. He wasn't kidding about being a blue collar boss though. The man certainly looked the part. He was tall, sturdy, thick-necked, and bearded, with the husky physique of someone whose daily exercise routine consists of sitting around a jobsite in the cab of his truck, lifting cupcakes up to his face. As I watched Mark guide my mother by the waist as she ascended into the passenger seat, my mind was somewhere else, obsessively replaying what August just said.

The way she called my mother "Ms. Mayer" reminded me how uncomfortable society is with an unmarried woman, as if by merely existing without a husband she has somehow offended the natural order. We can call a woman "Miss," but only if she is young and particularly if she has never married. Once a woman marries, she can never be a "Miss" again. Even if she divorces, she is still considered a "Mrs.,"' unless she prefers the mystery of being a "Ms." Mom wasn't very mysterious, but she hated my dad's last name, so after the divorce she went back to Ellie Mayer, her maiden name. Don't get me started on the rank sexism behind that little phrase.

But there was another thing that August said that kept rattling around in my brain: the word "we." So there is a "we" now is there? Interesting. Don't do anything we wouldn't do? I couldn't help wondering just what my roommate thought "we"'would do. I intended to find out.

At the moment, however, she was more interested in playing with Tyler. She was making him giggle by tickling his toes and playing peek-a-boo. iI was already fangirling so hard over August, but now that she was doting on Tyler I could hardly contain myself.

Over the next few hours, August gave Tyler her full attention. She read to him, gave him tummy time, fed him a bottle, burped him, bathed him, and got him into his adorable little feety pajamas. My girl did everything except change his diaper -- that job was still mine.

Finally, it was time to put the little man to bed. I wanted to do that myself, but I practically had to wrestle him out of August's hands. Just as I expected, she couldn't get enough of that beautiful little boy. It took some work to get Tyler to go down in his crib because he is accustomed to co-sleeping with Mom, but eventually he was out. Now that he was asleep, I wanted him to stay that way, so I took extra care to slip out of the room silently.

When I rejoined August, she had her back to me and was busy checking out my bedroom. I didn't announce myself. I just watched that tight little ass of hers as she slowly circled the room, curiously inspecting my softball trophies, my jewelry box, the photographs of my friends tucked into the mirror frame, and my bookshelf. I crept in quietly while August flipped through one of my books. "Well you blew it," I said, trying to imitate her "man voice" from earlier. "No points for you, girl. I gave you a second chance, but I guess you're too much of a stuck up bitch to write back to me."

"Did you spell that with an apostrophe R E?" August asked in response, immediately catching my reference. The girl gets me.

And I want to get the girl. Seeing her in my childhood bedroom evoked memories of high school sleepovers, where my friends and I would practice French kissing on each other and sit around braiding each other's hair and spilling the tea about boys. This, I told myself, is the moment. I came up behind August as she was thumbing through my worn copy of Down Girl. I tapped her lighly on the shoulder. She put the book down and turned around.

When our eyes met, it felt like she was staring into my soul. I could read the hunger on her pretty face. The air seemed to hang thickly in the room. Time slowed. In the lavender haze of lust, I don't know who made the first move, but in an instant, her hands were running through my hair, my hands were on her pert ass, and our lips melted together. I sighed into her mouth as our tongues danced in unison. Kissing August was intoxicating. The way she explored every curve of my lips with hers, the feel of her soft skin on mine, made me feel deliriously high. As our kissing grew more passionate, August slow-walked me backwards until I was pinned against the Meg Myers poster on my wall, then thrust her tongue down my throat.

The poster felt cool at my back as August's kisses grew more fervent.. There was something so primal about the way she kissed, her lips smashing into mine, her tongue entwined with my tongue.. My heart pounded in my chest. As she continued feverishly making out with me, August reached back to remove my hands from her ass, then took both of my wrists, raised them above my head, and pressed them against the wall, just above the poster. She held me in place while she kissed me hard and deep, taking pleasure where and how she wanted it.

I was lost in bliss as my gorgeous roommate ravished my mouth with hers. I had never been kissed like this in my life. I took her soft, probing tongue like it was communion, glorying in the way she feels, smells, and tastes. It felt like an out of body experience, like I was falling and floating all at the same time.

The kiss went on and on, until finally August adjusted her grip on my wrists. I imagined her gathering both wrists in one hand, freeing the other to go down my pants. My pussy tingled with anticipation. Instead, however, August released my wrists and pulled her face out of mine. My arms flopped to my side, but otherwise, I didn't move. I just stared into her eyes, entranced by her beauty, my chest heaving. She could have me and she knew it. After meeting my gaze for a moment, August smiled wide, planted a quick kiss on my forehead, and said, "Thank you for that, babe. Now how about we make a drink?"

The aftermath of our first make out session could have been awkward, but it wasn't. August was chill about the whole thing. Clearly she had no regrets. In fact, she seemed as blissed-out and giddy as me. And that kiss on the forehead reassured me that this wasn't just a casual college hook up for her. Our chemistry is undeniable. I snatched a bottle of Pinot and two wine glasses, setting them down in the family room and pouring generously.

"Cheers," I said, hoisting my glass.

"Cheers," August replied, clinking her glass against mine.

As we sipped our wine on the couch, I tossed her the remote control and told her she could put on whatever show she likes. "How about a movie?" August asked with a gleam in her eye.

"It's almost 10:00," I countered. "My mom should be home soon. Maybe we should just stick with a show."

But August was unfazed. "Come on," she said. "It's Friday night. If your mom comes home before the movie ends, we can finish it back in our bedroom."

Our bedroom! I hadn't thought of our dorm as a "bedroom," but she isn't wrong. It is a room with both of our beds. Our bedroom. Hearing August say it that way reminded me of just how intimately we would be living together -- eating, studying, hanging out, getting dressed, sleeping, all in the same little room.

"I can't say no to you," I said flirtatiously. "Whatever you want to watch is fine."

"You're fine," August responded slyly.

I was so stunned by the compliment, especially from one of the hottest girls at Beaver State, that I didn't know what to say. I just gave her a grin, played with some stray pink hairs and blushed redder than before. Finally, in a desperate bid to look less dumbstruck, I managed a three word answer. "Shut up, bitch!" I said with a laugh.

August flashed a sultry smile and began searching the streaming apps for the movie she wanted. When she found it, it was a movie I had never seen.

"Mulholland Drive?" I asked. "The hell is this?"

"You've never seen Mulholland Drive?" August was incredulous. "It's like my favorite movie."

"I've never even heard of it," I confessed, awakening to the realization that August is probably a sophisticated cinephile who now thinks I'm an uncultured bumpkin.

But to my surprise, she liked that I had never seen the movie -- or any David Lynch film, for that matter. I think she got off on initiating a new member into the secret society of esoteric film buffs. "I'm actually jealous," she said excitedly, "because you're watching it for the first time. It's going to blow your mind, babe."

"You know I'm down for that," I said, as I shut off the lights and shuffled a little closer to August on the couch. My roommate -- bedroommate, she might say -- felt toasty as I snuggled up into the crook of her arm, which she wrapped around my shoulders like a blanket. protecting me and keeping me tight by her side.

As much as I wanted to keep making out with this girl, I had to admit that the movie sucked me in. I was fucking immersed in it, especially that bedroom scene with Betty and Diane. I couldn't help wondering iif that would be August and me later tonight. As the movie unfolded, I got so lost in the blue boxes and red lampshades that I didn't think to wonder why my mother's date was going so late. It was after midnight, and the movie was almost over, when Mark's truck rumbled loudly into our driveway, the light from his high beams blazing into our darkened family room.

"Look who's back!" August whisper-shouted, trying not to wake the baby. Then she gave me a naughty smirk. "Let's see if Ellie gets a goodnight kiss!" She paused the movie so we could look out the window and watch as my mom exited the truck. Knowing my mom, I didn't expect any fireworks, but it was a rush just to stand there next to August, in the dark, spying on my mother's date. I could tell August liked it too. She had goosebumps. I wished we could hear what my mom and this Mark fellow were talking about as they sat in the cab of the truck. I was dying to know if they hit it off and were planning a second date or if this would be a "one and done" kind of thing. Mom wasn't getting out of the truck right away, so that seemed like a good sign.

August and I waited, watching, for an uncomfortably long time, but no one got out of the truck. We couldn't see inside because of the headlights, so I could only imagine what was keeping my 42 year-old mother in the cab of that truck after midnight on a first date.

"I think Ellie is getting lucky," August finally said, breaking the silence.

I was more apprehensive. It's not as if I know this guy. He's some stranger from the internet. What if their date was horrible and my mother feels trapped in his truck? What if Mark is just as psychotic as the other guys who messaged with me, like Gordy, but was just a little better at hiding it? Fuck! I wish I had texted with my mother earlier in the evening to see how her date was going, but I got distracted after that epic make out sesh with my roommate. I decided I would text her now -- something that would get her attention.

"Tyler is crying in his crib," I texted her. "I think he needs you to nurse him." It was a white lie. My baby brother was sleeping soundly, but I hoped

this would get my mom to finally wrap up this date and get in the house.

It worked, but not right away. Even after my mother read my text, several more minutes passed before finally her door opened. Mark remained in the cab this time while my mother opened her own door. As she walked toward the house, she turned back, as if to say a final goodnight to her date, but the big truck was already barreling out of our driveway. Mark didn't even wait long enough to make sure my mother made it safely inside.

I expected my mother to say something about that ungentlemanly exit, but she didn't seem to notice. She didn't seem to notice her own appearance, either, but she looked a bit disheveled. Her hair wasn't as perfect as when she left the house, her dress looked rumpled under her jacket, and it was difficult to read her mood -- she was smiling, but I thought I detected a hint of anxiety as well. She didn't even ask about Tyler, either, which wasn't like her. She may have assumed he fell back asleep, but in that case, she should have kept her voice down. Instead, the Boomer was so wine drunk and eager to gush about Mark that she was practically shouting as she recounted every little detail of their date. August and I heard all about the drive to the restaurant, the food, the drinks, the ambiance, and, most of all, Mark. Mom was clearly smitten with this man and she practically told us his entire life story. Did Mark talk about anything besides himself on this date? Apparently not. I felt embarrassed for August to hear my mother breathlessly describing Mark's physical features, all the way down to the tattoos on his hands. My mother always hated tattoos. She would never let me defile my body with a tattoo, but now one date with this rough-hewn contractor had her fawning all over his ink. It was so cringe.

Unlike me, August loved hearing all these details about mom's date. She couldn't get enough and she wasn't going to be satisfied until mom gave up all the goods. I could see the delight in her eyes as she got right to the point. "So, Ms. Mayer," August pried. "What were you and Mark doing in the cab of his truck for so long?"

I felt my face get hot. Just an hour or two earlier, I was utterly convinced that my mother would be as chaste as a nun on this date. Her marriage to my father was always troubled, cold, and seemingly loveless. Since the divorce, she hasn't shown any interest in men, or dating, or sex, or even having a social life outside of the house. Her every waking minute has been consumed with caring for Tyler, scrounging up money to pay for my college, and keeping up with her demanding job. But here she was, all dolled up from her date, looking just a little worse for wear, and shamelessly spouting off about this guy like she was a schoolgirl with her first crush. It made me afraid of the answer to August's question.

"Well, aren't you forward?" Ellie asked with a little laugh. "I was always taught that a lady doesn't kiss and tell."

I was content to leave it at that, but not August. She smiled and persisted. "Oh come on, Ellie," my roommate replied sweetly. "It's just us girls. Let's hear it!"

I picked up on my roommate's sneaky little gambit. Earlier, she called my mother "Ms. Mayer,"

but now she was calling her "Ellie" like they were old friends. And apparently it worked because the next thing I knew mom was spilling the tea.

"Fine," she relented with a sigh. "I'll tell you what Mark and I were doing in the truck. But only because I need your help, Jess," she added pointedly, looking in my direction. August and I shared a quick look, confused, before mom continued. "We had such a wonderful time together that we didn't want the night to end. Mark was asking if he could come inside --"

August interrupted with a small cough. If possible, my face got hotter.

"--but I didn't want to ruin the mood by explaining that I have a two year-old asleep in his crib. Then it came out anyway when you texted me."

"My bad, Mom. I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do."

"It's fine, honey," mom replied, but I could tell there was more to the story.

So could August. "How did Mark take the news?" she wanted to know.

Now it was my mother's turn to blush. I could see her cheeks grow flush as she stammered her reply. "He was, uh, surprised, I would say,"

Surprised? I had already seen some signs that Mark is a typical, self-centered guy, but now I was starting to actively dislike the man. Who the fuck was "Mark_U" to be surprised that a woman in her forties has a child? He is a big hairy troll with a spare-tire for a stomach and stupid hand tats; my mother is a flawless specimen of female beauty. She doesn't just turn heads; men damn near break their necks when she walks by. This fucking jackass should be worshipping my mother like a queen, not acting like she is "less than" because she has given birth. Men suck.