"What are you doing in my old candy striper uniform?"
"Because, Mom, I took a volunteer job at the old folk's home to put in my community service hours for graduation. I figured that this uniform might help me get in character for the role."
"I don't understand why you couldn't parlay your love of theater into community hours."
"Because the vice-principal is an old battle axe who resents the fact that I'm eighteen and beautiful and she's fifty-something and frumpy. She rejected my form and recommended this quote 'so you get a serious appreciation that being young and beautiful does not last forever, but even the elderly can be beautiful in spirit' unquote. I had to do something to make it fun."
"You do know that nobody has worn that uniform in almost twenty years. Though I must admit that it is kind of cute. I was wearing that uniform the day that I met your father."
"I just feel better if I look cute."
"You don't look cute. You look hot. Did you take the hem up?"
"I guess that I'm just taller than you," Grace blushed. She hoped that her mother did not realize that she had just fibbed. Yes, Grace was taller than Libby, but she had taken the hem of the uniform skirt up two full inches, figuring that if you have great legs, why not show them off. Not that there was anything wrong with her mother's legs, but a young woman worried less about modesty now than over twenty-five years ago.
Libby frowned slightly. She was no fool. She knew exactly how much taller Grace was than her. Her daughter had blossomed from a gawky lanky adolescent into a gorgeous curvy heartbreaker with fabulous legs. She did not call Grace out on the lie. Libby's mom had been a prude, an attitude that had contributed to Libby being wild in her own youth. The telling of the story about having met Grace's Dad while wearing the candy striper uniform always left out the details as to how quickly it had been removed.
Thinking about that, Libby's frown turned into a grin as she recalled the conveniently located supply closet where Aaron had peeled the apron-like top away, undoing her buttons to bare her breasts, suckling them while his skilful hands had eased the striped garment to the floor. His lips had instantly found her erect aching nipples, but her cunt screamed at her wanting more. Grabbing Aaron's wrist, Libby had tugged his arm down, shoving his fingers right into her wetness, rotating them until they were coated with her abundant juices.
Libby had then raised his arm upward, but instead of offering it to his lips, she tasted herself off Aaron's flesh, groaning so loudly that it was a miracle that no one had heard. Her knees were quaking. Aaron later told her that he had felt an electric current run from her tongue through his fingers all the way through his body and out the tip of his throbbing cock.
She had known right away about the throbbing cock part, pressing her palm against its girth before extracting it from Aaron's scrubs. He had furiously fingered her clit while she stroked his hardness. They both came quickly, their climaxes muffled by their kiss. Libby had tasted her first semen that time, licking it off her own hand, but remained a virgin a while longer. A noise in the hallway had broken the spell, reminding them about the risk of discovery.
They had parted ways then, carefully spacing their departure from the supply closet. Libby had been deflowered later, in Aaron's bed, not the closet, though they returned to that tiny dark space almost every time they worked the same shifts. She was pretty sure that one of their last liaisons had led to Grace's conception. Aaron had left for Iraq before learning that Libby was pregnant. He never returned.
So Libby had fond memories of that candy striper uniform, but good reason to worry about what might happen in the supply closet. At least she had made sure that Grace was on a birth control pill.
Libby also had fond memories of Aaron, not just because of his contribution to her daughter's genes, or the best sex of her life, but because of how he had been the only person to ever call her "Libby the libidinous". She had remained horny all her life but had been discrete enough to never get a reputation as a slut, so none of her many lovers or even steady boyfriends had been as clever as Aaron when it came to teasing her. Or pleasing her, either. Everybody assumed that the reason she had never married, or even lived with a guy, was to protect Grace, or maybe a broken heart after Aaron's death. The reality was she was still searching for a guy who could fulfill her sexually the way that Aaron had.
Seeing Grace in her old uniform brought back "all the feels" as they said these days. It also made Libby want to steal the outfit back, see if it still fit, and try out whether sex in the uniform might bring back the old magic.
She wanted desperately to warn Grace about supply closets, but also did not want to give the little vixen any ideas. Grace was so hot that no doubt someone would try to educate her soon.
Grace took after her mother in more than just looks. She noticed the far away look in Libby's eyes. Grace had learned at a tender age that this meant Libby was thinking back to Aaron, the father Grace never knew except from pictures and stories.
She figured that was a good time to make her escape, still wearing the candy striper uniform.
When she arrived at the Old Folks Home, she expected that the fifty and frumpy volunteer co-ordinator might send her home to change, but the poor woman was so overwhelmed that she signed Grace in, gave her a name badge and pointed her towards the ambulatory ward with barely a glance.
Once there, Grace was similarly ignored by the ward nurse, who was busily counting out pills into individualized cups.
"Go find Justin, he'll do your orientation. Tell him I want you to start by entertaining Old Mr. Brown."
Justin turned out to be a short, fat, young man with blooms of acne adorning his round face. Grace figured that he would react to her provocative attire for sure, except he too was pre-occupied.
"Orientation?" he snorted, face nose deep in a pile of laundry. "Nurse Batshit must be joking. But Old Mr. Brown is in bed 404F across the hall. He needs help out of bed and you need to hold his arm so he doesn't stumble. Take him to the sun room and park him there. Then go clean up the vomit in 410 - you'll find a mop and bucket in the janitor's closet. Hopefully, you can leave old Mr. Brown with one or two of the other critters. They like to try to play cards, even though half of them can't remember the rules. You need to keep an ear open for the inevitable tossing of cards on the floor or the overturning of the table. Then we guide them back to their rooms. Helps if they stay in the sun room a while while we change bedding."
Grace hoped that she could send enough time with Old Mr. Brown that someone else would do the mopping up. Though she was curious - she had once over heard her Mom telling Aunty Mimi about how Libby had lost her virginity in a supply closet.
'Was that anything like the janitor's closet?' Grace wondered. The thought made her nipples tingle, something that had been happening a lot lately. They had been hard and aching all morning, ever since she had disinterred the candy striper outfit from the trunk in the attic. Putting on her sexiest bra - the red lacy push-up number she had secretly bought from the sleazy store in the mall - had kept them excited. Her pussy had moistened when she slipped into the outfit. Thinking about the janitor's closet made her thighs wet and her clit tingle. She wondered whether she could sneak off to the janitor's closet to jill one off, but first, she needed to attend to Old Mr. Brown.
Room 404 was a dreary institutional space crammed with six beds which was probably designed for four. Bed F was nearest the windows on her right - she pegged it as a prime spot, close to the sun, a view of nature, and furthest from the door.