Chapter 14
The last jolt of the bus jolted Mom out of her brief daydream. She almost ran down to the stop, her normally steady legs now a little wobbly. I followed silently behind, a loyal shadow, shielding her hurried figure. She needed a restroom. Urgently. Not to relieve her normal physiological needs, but to cleanse, to reorganize, to escape the slimy cocoon of an adventure that had ended ten minutes earlier.
The air in the public restroom was thick with the smell of cheap cleaning chemicals and a lingering, musty smell of urine. Mom chose the back stall and slammed the door. I stood outside, leaning against the cold tile wall, listening. The sound of water rushing. The sound of something tearing. A soft sigh. A silent movie was playing in my head. What had the young man’s lips said as he pressed against Mom’s ear? Had his cock really penetrated her thighs, through her thin skirt and pitiful stockings? Had semen spurted out, or was it just the sticky liquid of desire? Did Mom moan? Or had she just remained silent, gritting her teeth, a silent sacrifice for our game?
Unanswered questions. They were like maggots, eating away at my mind.
A moment later, Mom emerged. A different person. Her face was still flushed, but not the red of shame, but the rosy color of someone who had just exercised hard, of blood circulating vigorously. And her legs. Bare legs, dazzling white under the fluorescent lights. The pantyhose were gone. They were probably lying at the bottom of some trash can, wet and lonely. Now, those legs, from plump thighs to slender ankles, were completely exposed. Two flawless pillars of jade. And I knew, for sure, that beneath that skirt, she was no longer wearing underwear. A state of complete vacuum.
“Is it cool, Mom?” I asked, my tone half joking, half probing.
She was startled, as if pulled out of a trance. Her eyes looked at me, a little dreamy, then quickly sharpened. “It’s not your fault!” she scoffed. “Just stand there and watch your mother get bullied!” That sulky tone, it wasn’t a real reproach. It was part of the play. A coquettishness, a feminine way of shifting responsibility.
“There are too many people. If I act rashly and someone sees me, what then?” I played my part, a reasonable excuse.
“Huh!”
I stepped closer, enough to smell her. A strange mixture. The scent of Chanel No. 5 mixed with the sweet scent of sweaty skin, and somewhere in there, a faint, fishy, masculine scent. “Did that boy let you in, Mom?” I whispered, the question blunt. “What did he say to you?”
Mother blushed, but this time it was genuine embarrassment. “Nonsense! There… there is no such thing!” she stammered.
I didn’t ask any more. I knew she would never admit it. But her body spoke for itself. At this moment, she was no longer the stern teacher Ngoc My. She was a woman who had just returned from an affair, a budding flirtatious beauty, much more seductive.
“I was hard just now.” I confessed.
And that was the magic word. Her face relaxed, an uncontrollable smile spread across her lips. “Really? That’s great! My son will be well again soon!” Her joy was genuine. A mother’s joy, and also a co-conspirator’s joy.
Then she blushed again and mumbled, “I… I have to go buy new underwear. It’s too dangerous like this.”
Of course it was dangerous. The skirt was extremely short, and there was an inviting amount of skin underneath. A slight breeze could reveal all secrets.
Mom knew the area. She led me like a local, quickly finding a high-end lingerie store. As she was about to enter, I whispered, “Remember to buy a pair of socks too.” I smiled, a foxy smile.
She paused, then as if she understood, her cheeks flushed, her hand pinched my hip painfully before disappearing behind the glass door.
Inside, a world of lace, silk, and promises. The saleswoman, a familiar face to my mother, enthusiastically touted the latest designs. The underwear, hanging on the hangers, were just lifeless pieces of fabric. But I knew that in a few minutes, they would become my mother’s second skin, her weapon.
And then she emerged from the dressing room. Graceful. Confident. Her new pantyhose had created a safe haven. Her long legs were sheathed in a new layer of smoky-colored stockings, the semi-transparent silk both concealing and inviting. She was re-armed. The hunt could continue.
We met Khoi at a milk tea shop. He was smart in his business suit, his hair slicked back with gel. When he saw us, especially his mother, his eyes lit up. He was clearly surprised.
“You look so beautiful today!” he exclaimed.
He wasn’t lying. The dress hugged her hourglass figure. Her full breasts, like two peaches, pressed tightly against the fabric. Her curvaceous hips, a killer curve. And her legs. Her legs, in their new stockings, smooth as silk, each step creating a smooth friction, a promise of what lay beyond. The encounter on the bus seemed to have flipped some switch in her mother. Her eyes today were moist, strangely inviting.
Khoi’s compliment clearly pleased his mother. It was a faint, discreet smile, but enough to show the pride of a woman who knows she is beautiful.
Khoi was visibly annoyed to see me walking with him, but he didn’t dare say anything. He quickly ignored me, walked beside his mother, and started talking endlessly about his stories. His mother, seemingly caught up in the conversation, smiled charmingly, her eyes sparkling in response. They were like a couple of lovers, and I was the extra one walking behind.
But this position gives me a perfect view.
I saw men on the street turn to look at Mom. They watched the way she walked, her hips swaying, her full ass bouncing with each step. Mom knew. Not only did she know, she enjoyed it. She slowed down a little, stuck out her chest more, letting those hungry eyes gnaw at her. It was a sick thrill, the frivolous satisfaction of a queen parading through her domain.
Coming to a crowded street, Khoi took the opportunity to jostle, put his arms around his mother’s waist, and hugged her waist. A very natural hug, as if to protect her. Mother did not react, still busy laughing and talking. But Khoi’s hand was not natural at all. It began an exploration. From the waist, it slid down to her plump hips, groping near the top of her round buttocks, then slid up again. A dance of fingers on the thin skirt. While walking, my mother’s butt occasionally rubbed against Khoi’s stiff crotch. An accidental yet intentional collision. The smell of perfume, the smell of skin, the sound of high heels clicking on the sidewalk. All blended into a symphony of eroticism. My cock in my pants throbbed again, painfully.
Lunch at a steakhouse. Khoi was the main character, boasting about his achievements. Mom was a charming audience member, occasionally glancing at me, a mischievous glance, as if sharing a secret. I just kept quiet, watching him act, and chuckled.
Next plan was to see a movie. A cheesy romance. Afternoon show, empty.
And then it happened. Or rather, it was a twist of fate. The seats in the theater were double. Lovers’ seats. The three of us stood there, stunned.
“Okay, Mom and Khoi can sit together. I’ll sit alone so it’s more spacious.” I spoke first, breaking the silence, my voice artificially generous.
Khoi was delighted. Mother, knowing the nature of the game, did not object. I sat in a double seat next to them.
This double chair was designed in a tricky way. It was not wide. It forced two people close together. I sat alone, it was spacious, but when Mom and Khoi sat down, it became a battle for territory of flesh. Mom’s butt was too big, too round. It took up more than half the area. Khoi’s butt was not small either. They pressed together, not a single gap. Their arms were stuck together. Mom seemed uncomfortable, she moved slightly, pulling her already short skirt even shorter. She thought her provocativeness was due to the clothes, not knowing that her body itself was an undisguised invitation.
The lights went out. Only the dim light from the screen remained. I glanced over. Mom had crossed her legs, a graceful, defensive pose. But it was no use. Her skirt rode up, revealing almost all of her long, slender thighs, pale in the darkness.
There were only a few people in the theater. The row behind us was empty.
I saw Khoi start to act. He slowly moved closer to Mom, still pretending to comment on the movie. Mom felt the invasion, but she kept quiet.
Then Khoi’s left hand reached around Mom’s back, placing it on her soft waist. A possessive hug. Mom was startled, glared at him, and gently pushed his hand away. But he held her tighter. Mom’s weak resistance, in this darkness, looked like a clumsy lovemaking scene. She was helpless, turning to look at me for help.
I closed my eyes. Pretended to sleep.
I heard Khoi whisper in my mother’s ear: “Miss Ngoc My, is the movie so boring that Huy fell asleep?” He chuckled softly, a triumphant laugh.
Mom knew I was faking it. She couldn’t expose me. She could only face it herself. “All the movies you picked. Boring. Let’s go home,” she said, annoyed, pretending to stand up.
Khoi held her waist tightly, not letting her go. He leaned close to her ear, taking a deep breath of the scent of her hair. “The movie may be boring, but you never are.”
His hot breath blew on her neck. Mother trembled. She bit her lip, trying to use her last bit of reason. “Minh Khoi, I am much older than you. You cannot think that way about me. It is not good.”
“What’s wrong with that?” He smiled. “You’re so beautiful, which man wouldn’t like you?” With that, his hand that was on his mother’s waist slid down. A long, bold slide. It landed on one of her buttocks, squeezing hard. His entire hand sank deep into the soft, elastic flesh of her buttocks.
“Ah!” Mother let out a soft cry, half in pain, half in surprise. She tried to push him away again, but this time, he held her even tighter. His left hand kept kneading her butt, and his right hand was also restless, groping and placing itself on her thigh. The smooth, slippery pantyhose could not stop his fingers. The soft, warm flesh of her thigh fell into the wolf’s claws.
Mother panicked. She had never expected Khoi to dare to do such a thing. She looked at him with fear, like a baby bird being wrapped around a snake.