My Girlfriend's Mom Ch. 01

Prologue

Abby and I met under, well, let's say "odd" circumstances. You see, I was dating her daughter.

Mona needed to change for a school dance and did not have anything "nice" in her dorm room so we ran by her house so she could get ready, wearing something special for the spring dance. Personally, I was still surprised that I had let myself get talked into the stupid dance, but there it was. Since I had committed I would go through with it.

Mona introduced me to Abby and then went up to her room to change.

The attraction I felt toward Abby was strange on a couple of levels. Obviously, there was the age thing. I was 28 and a senior, getting ready to face a career as a history teacher. Abby was old enough to have a daughter that I considered "datable."

Then there was the body type thing.

Since that wonderful summer when my cousin's wife claimed my virginity I had believed that women are supposed to be soft and round. I wasn't what you would call a "Chubby Chaser," with the fetish that term implied. Nevertheless, I certainly found Reuben's paintings more beautiful than Playboy centerfolds.

Mona was definitely my "type." She had a beautiful face and a glorious mane of dark hair on a body that was easily a hundred pounds north of voluptuous. She was not morbidly obese, but she would need to watch her eating habits to avoid it.

Abby, on the other hand, was the picture of the skinny woman. Her face was long and narrow, her arms thin, her waist tiny. She had those beautiful eyes that she shared with her daughter. A dark brown with an insanely white sclera (a word meaning the whites of her eyes that I had just learned in my Human Anatomy and Physiology class) under heavy lids. When she smiled, which she did a lot, I could see that she hadn't fallen into the tooth whitening trap. Her ivory smile made you want to smile back, and slightly crooked teeth only added to the character of her face.

When Mona went upstairs I was dreading needing to make small talk with her mom. Instead, I was absolutely captivated. She was witty, knowledgeable, educated, interested, and engaged in the world. Her own work, selling real estate, left her time to do other things, and she did them in bunches. She was active in the local historical society, something dear to my heart as a history major. She was active in politics, volunteering for conservative campaigns, once again winning me over since, as a veteran and self-professed patriot, I tended to support the same people she did. She enjoyed the occasional night out and claimed to be an excellent dart shooter, a challenge I found interesting.

She asked if I would like something to drink, apologizing for only having beer if I wanted alcohol. As much as anything, that is what won my heart. I asked for water and when she left the room I slid my checkbook out of my pocket and behind the couch cushion.

We talked more until Mona was ready and I became more and more convinced that I wanted to see more of this woman.

It had never been "serious" with Mona, and I think we both understood. A mutual study pact with me helping her with the intricacies of American History and her helping me through required science classes had always been at the core of our relationship and the dance marked the end of the semester.

That night, when I took her home, our sex had the feeling of goodbye. She was passionate, as always, and responded to my fingers and my mouth and ultimately to my erection. But there was an undercurrent of sadness that we both recognized.

In the morning, as I was making her breakfast I made a big show of noticing that my checkbook was missing. I looked around the apartment and then asked if I could have Abby's phone number to see if I had dropped it there. Mona gave it to me without looking up from the pancakes I had made for her.

We made love one last time that morning after breakfast. She was big, beautiful, and passionate, as always. Spent, we shared a shower, washing each other's backs, and then I drove her to her dorm. I walked her to the door, as I always did, and kissed her goodbye.

Chapter One

I wasn't even to the corner before I was punching Abby's phone number into my cell phone.

"Hello," she said, with that lilting question in her voice that you have when you don't recognize the number on your caller ID.

"Hi," I said, "this is Dave. We met last night."

I liked the pleasure in her voice when she said "Oh, hi Dave, what's up?"

I explained that I had lost my checkbook and asked if she could check and see if I had lost it in her house.

"Just a second honey," she said, and something about that casual pet name caused a quick little rush deep in my belly.

Less than a minute passed and she was back on the line.

"I'm holding it in my hand," she said. Then, with an edge in her voice, she said "I wonder how it got behind my couch cushions."

I ignored that and said, "if you're home can I run by and pick it up?"

"I guess," she said, her voice very neutral. "Will Mona be with you?"

"Nope, just me," I said, hoping I sounded casual.

"Okay then, see you when?"

I chuckled. "About 10 minutes so get decent." And I hit the end button and started moving.

I felt like a kid on his first date as I drove. There were butterflies in my stomach and a little shake in my hands. As I engaged in a little self-analysis I realized that I could not remember any woman ever affecting me like this.

I didn't like the way my fingers trembled as I reached for the doorbell, but I did manage to push it.

She opened the door almost immediately, making me wonder if she had been waiting for me.

Once again I was struck with how unlike my "type" she was. Slender to the point of thin. Tall. The opposite of my normal attraction to short voluptuous women.

I noted with some satisfaction that she had makeup and lipstick on. I doubted that she normally did that on a Saturday morning and to think that she had wanted to look good for me was pleasant. So pleasant, in fact, that I had to squirm a little to inconspicuously adjust the erection that was suddenly developing.

"The coffee is ready," she said, flashing that smile, "would you like a cup?"

I gave her my best boyish grin, well-practiced in the mirror.

"Madame," I said in my best Bogey imitation, "I will kill anyone you name for a cup."

She giggled at that and opened the door wide in invitation.

I noticed that she had Fox and Friends on the television and while we drank our coffee we kibitzed and discussed politics. For the first time lately, I found a true soulmate. As one of the few conservatives on campus, this was a special little treat.

Coffee done, she excused herself and returned in a few seconds, holding out my checkbook. As I took it she was holding my eyes with one eyebrow raised which I took as a question.

"Okay," I said, hoping my grin was winning, "busted."

She didn't say anything and that one eyebrow stayed up.

"Look," I said, starting to think I had lost, "I wanted to see you and this was the only thing I could come up with on the spur of the moment."

That eyebrow kept the question going as she said simply "mmhmmmmm."

"Abby," I said, "what I had," wondering if she would notice the past tense, "with Mona was fun but just friends. I like you and, well," and to my surprise I found myself running out of words.

"And well?" she said, the eyebrow finally relaxing.

"I wonder if you would consider having dinner with me or something." Once again I felt like I was 13, asking a girl to my first dance. I didn't understand why, but she had that effect on me.

"You're asking me out on a date?" she asked, looking genuinely surprised.

"Yes," I said, meeting her eyes again. "Abby, would you like to have dinner tonight?"

She smiled then, a genuine smile.

"You're serious?" she asked.

"Yes," I said, and repeated, "Abby, I would very much like to take you to dinner tonight."

She actually giggled a little.

"What is this?" she asked. "Are you some sort of granny chaser, cougar hunter, or whatever you call it?"

Then it was my turn to laugh.

"Abby," I said for the third time, "I would very much like to take you to dinner tonight. I like you. I think we are good together. And, to be honest, I like to be seen with the prettiest girl in the room."

"Oh god," she said, "you had me going up until that last part."

"What part?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"The 'prettiest girl?'" she said. "David, I have a mirror and eyes. I'm horse-faced, flat chested, big assed, big-footed, varicose veined and homely."

And I was laughing. A full-throated belly laugh at that.

And she was scowling.

It took several seconds to get myself under control.

"Abby," I finally managed, "you really see yourself like that?"

"How else?" she said, frowning.

I took a step forward and took her hands. In her bare feet, I was taller than she although barely, and so I looked down a little.

"Abby," I said, "I would be proud to be seen with you. Wanna have dinner?"

And finally, she smiled.

"ummmmm," she said, "how would Mona react?"

"I told you, it was always pretty casual with Mona. I know she loves you and I expect that if I make you happy that will make her happy," I said.

And there it was, that full-on smile that just lit up her face.

"Okay buster," she said, looking at me sideways, "I'll take a chance. Pick me up at seven. Now get out of here. It will take me until then to look presentable."

I laughed again, and left without saying anything else.

The rest of the day drug. Once again I had this eerie feeling of déjà vu. I was 12 again, getting ready to take my 6th-grade girlfriend roller skating. The clock drug. I would play some Call of Duty on my xBox and no time would pass. I showered about three in the afternoon and then realized that was stupid because I would have to shower again before I went to pick her up. I tried to nap. I played some more xBox. I watched some television. At some point, I threw a frozen pizza in the microwave and ate something.

Finally, it was 5:00 in the afternoon and I showered again. Then I shaved too, something I almost never do on weekends. I spent more time picking through my meager wardrobe than I could ever remember, but I thought that I had exactly one chance to make a good impression and I damn sure wasn't going to blow it.

By 6:00 I was ready. Hair carefully brushed in my very retro 1950's straight-back style. My blue pinstripe Oxford cloth button-down shirt had even been ironed once I found my iron and board. My dark slacks were ironed too. My argyle socks were bright red with silver patterns and my black penny loafers were shined.

And there I was, with about a half-hour to kill and absolutely nothing to interest me. I finally switched on Fox News and watched although I could not tell you anything that was said. I looked at my watch about every 30 seconds and finally at 6:30 gave up and headed over to her house.

That put me there about 15 minutes early and on a whim, I ran by a little stand I had seen in the parking lot of a convenience store and sprang eight dollars for a little bouquet of some bright flowers.

And then I was there, walking up to her door. More than butterflies, some larger birds, maybe crows, were flapping around in my belly as I pushed the doorbell.

Once again she opened the door right away and that made me think, or at least hope, that she was anxious too.

I stopped and looked and whistled.

"Abby," I said, "you look absolutely terrific."

And she did.

She's tall for a woman, at 5'9", and does not try to hide her height as many tall women do. With the 2" heels on the calf-high boots she wore she looked me directly in the eye. She had on a long peasant skirt in a bright pattern that swayed as she moved. The skirt covered the tops of her boots to mid-calf. Her blouse was in the "peasant" motif, another bright pattern, with just a hint of a scoop neckline. Her reddish hair with its faint blonde highlights was done up to frame her face. A light blue eye shadow showed her eyes off wonderfully. Moderately red lipstick framed that wonderful smile. Small hoop earrings, a necklace of some sort of polished stones, and a bracelet matching the necklace completed the outfit.

I just stared for a few seconds and was tickled to see her blush.

"ummmmmm," she said, drawing out the consonant, "are those for me?" she asked looking pointedly at the little bouquet in my hand.

I chuckled a little. "Sorry Abby, you distracted me. Yes, for you," and I handed the bouquet to her with a little bow and flourish.

Her smile turned into a grin and she said "come on in while I get something to put them in."

In the front room, I couldn't help but laugh as I saw that she had the same news program on the television that I had been watching. She looked at me as she came back, the little bouquet in a simple vase.

"What's funny?" she asked.

"Oh, just, you know, Great Minds and all of that," I said, waving at the TV.

"Well, I like to get the news, not just the Democrat party's talking points," she said and when I raised my hand in the classic "high five" position she didn't hesitate to slap my offered palm.

"Soooooo," she said, with that smile flashing, "where does the handsome young man take the old broad for dinner?"

I laughed softly.

"Steak okay?" I asked.

"Sure," she said. "No vegetarians in this family."

"Outback it is then," I said, offering her my arm in my best courtly manner.

She grinned a little at that and took the proffered arm. At the door, she stopped, rummaged in the big purse she carried, found her keys, and carefully locked the door.

When she looked up she said "what" into my grin.

"I'm just wondering," I said, "if you have a gun in there with everything else."

That drew an interesting response. She looked at me in kind of a sidelong way and said, with an odd look on her face, "not tonight."

I laughed at that, loud enough to stop her.

"Oh.....my.....god," I said, enjoying each syllable, "you have a permit, don't you?"

Again there was that little blush but she didn't look away from my eyes.

"Yep," she said, "a pistol-packing mama. Is that a problem partner?" That last said in an absolutely terrible John Wayne imitation.

Again I held my hand up for a high five.

"Hell no, Abby. Forty-five ACP because it's just silly to have to shoot it twice."

She slapped my palm, hard, but then took my arm in a very ladylike fashion.

Damn, but I liked this woman.

Dinner was more fun than I think I had ever had with a female, ever. We talked and laughed. She held my gaze as she stabbed a bite of my sirloin and then I did the same to her T-bone (no delicate lady's filet for her). I enjoyed watching her eat which she did with gusto, like she did everything.

When we were fed I asked for the check and she reached for her purse.

"I'll get mine," she said.

"Not a chance," I replied. "I asked you out Abby, on a date, and I know it's odd in this generation, but in my world, the gentleman pays."

She looked at me and smiled. "Gentleman?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "My momma raised me good."

At that, she chuckled, got her pocketbook out of her purse, and pulled out a ten-dollar bill that she dropped on the table. "At least I'll get the tip," she said.

On the sidewalk, I glanced at my watch very obviously.

"Do I take you home at 9:00 or would you like to go somewhere and get a drink?" I asked.

She looked at me with that pursed-lip-pulled-to-the-side look that only a woman can pull off.

"Trying to get me drunk?" she asked.

At that, I laughed, long and loud.

"Abbyyyyy," I said, chuckling through the final vowel, "something tells me that it would be you getting me drunk. But, you did say something about being the queen of the dartboard."

"Ahhhhhh," she said, "a challenge?"

"Abby, I'm on kind of new ground here," I said, turning serious. "I like you and I really do not want to blow this. So, it's up to you. If you'd like, I'll take you home. I'd prefer that drink though."

That drew that wonderful smile.

"Okay," she said, stepping up and taking my arm, "let's see what you got."

We walked arm in arm to my little car and I opened the door for her, drawing another smile.

"Can we put the top down?" she asked.

I laughed a little at that, started the car, worked the little handle, pushed the button, and the convertible top went back. It was a cool night, but it felt good. Wanting the top down told me something about her too.

I drove to a place I knew on the outskirts of town. Not a college bar, not a biker bar, not a country bar, it was a very eclectic place that I had found a few weeks after I had arrived in town.

I went there often enough that a couple of regulars greeted me by name. I noticed that they looked Abby up and down.

"Beer okay?" I asked.

She was looking around a little bright-eyed.

"Hell yeah," she said with a grin.

I got us a pitcher of whatever was on tap and found her at a table from which she was surveying the scene.

She was actually a very good dart player. I managed to win three out of five games and we won another pitcher of beer from a couple of college boys.

It was about one in the morning when she finally said "David, it's been fun, but I'm not used to this. I need to get home."

I smiled and went to the bartender, tossing him my car keys and asking him to call me a cab. She smiled at that.

"I didn't expect that," she said.

"I may be young," I said, "but I know when I've had too much to drink to be driving. I was right," I continued, "you seem to have got me drunk."

She smiled.

"I'm none to steady myself, sweety," she said.

The cab arrived and I gave the driver her address. We chatted on the way back to her house, rehashing what had been a very pleasant evening.

When the cab turned down her street I noticed her get quiet.

As the cab stopped I climbed out and said "Wait here."

Then I went around and opened her door.

We walked up to her front door hand-in-hand and I waited while she dug through her purse for her keys. She unlocked the door and turned to face me. She had an odd look on her face.

"Thank you, David," she said, rather formally I thought. "You've done your duty to the old broad and it was fun."

"Abby," I said, "this wasn't a 'duty' as you put it. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in, well, shit, fucking ever."

Her eyebrow went up a little at my language which I had been being very careful of all evening.

"Look," I said, stepping closer and taking both of her hands in mine. "I realize that you have some self-esteem issues. I understand that you see yourself as the ugly duckling. You've made that clear." I paused and grinned. "Hell, too clear."

She smiled a little at that.

"Are you disappointed," I asked, "that I'm not trying to get in your house, and your pants, tonight?"

She had the good grace to blush a little at that.

"It's not for lack of interest," I said. "Abby, I like you way too much to blow this. Can I call you?"

There was that pursed mouth to the side look again. And then that smile. She leaned forward and kissed me, more than a quick peck but less than an invitation. An interesting kiss.

"Yes, you may," she said, and went inside.

I could feel the grin on my face as I walked to the cab. I gave the driver my address and started punching in numbers on my cell phone.

"Yes?" she answered.

"You said I could call," I said, drawing a laugh from her. "So, how about tomorrow? A picnic? The zoo?"

There was a little hesitation and then "I am sorry, but I can't," she said, and the way she sounded I believed her. "I have a family thing that will run all day, you know, a reunion thing. I suppose you could wangle an invitation from Mona," she went on, "but that would probably be inappropriate."