Billy burst through the kitchen door and immediately looked down to avert his mother's questioning gaze. He darted past her, whimpering softly as he headed to his bedroom. He entered, then slammed the door shut behind him. This behavior had become almost routine. He was having trouble with a bully, a much bigger kid but only a year older. Billy was twelve, short, sensitive, and not the least bit athletic. He loved video games and science, especially math.
Monique was Billy's mom who had been married twelve years to a stable and loving husband. Mel was an accountant, good at math and word games and loved video games. This is where father and son bonded. "I wished he liked sex as much as those damn games," she mumbled under her breath. He was loyal and dependable but lacked a sex drive. Maybe once or twice a month they would have a quickie. Ten minutes and he was done. The lack of passionate sex left her feeling empty, frustrated, and not properly loved.
Monique talked to her son for about twenty minutes. He described his frustrations telling her how he was threatened and bullied. He pleaded with her to talk to Ben's father. She agreed and ask for Ben's phone number. Later in the afternoon she called, asked to speak to Ben's father. The conversation was awkward, but they set up an appointment to talk tomorrow before work.
Monique was a successful realtor; she would soon learn that Ben's father owned a Harley dealership.
That night she informed Mel she arranged to speak to Ben's father the next morning. All Mel said was, "good luck." She slept restlessly, nervous about tomorrow's encounter with Ben's father. After seeing Mel off to work and driving Billy to school she returned home to dress for work. She showered and blow dried her thick dark hair. She entered her walk-in closet scanning her fashion options. She placed heavy emphasis on looking professional yet stylish, choosing fashions that complemented her curvaceous figure. She stood five foot four, had very full breasts, and large nipples. When aroused her nipples stiffened and nearly doubled in size. Her waist was firm retaining a tad bit of fat Mel dubbed "baby blubber." Her thighs were full tapering to curvaceous calves and thin ankles. Her hips and derrière were a male turn on. Her former boyfriend had said she had a bubble butt. She had an olive complexion and green gray eyes. Her mother was Mexican and her father Irish. She chose a navy-blue skirt and off-white cotton blouse. She stepped into navy blue heals and pivoted in front of the floor length mirror. The skirt was cut a couple inches above her knees. She looked both professional and sexy. The look was good for business. She thought the blend of style and sex appeal had turned a few sales.
After applying makeup and downing a mug of coffee she headed out the door for Ben's house. She was a bit apprehensive. Was Ben's dad a bully too? After a short drive she pulled into the driveway of Ben's house. She checked the address on the house. This was it. She noticed the garage door was open and peered in. Her eyes landed on a tall heavily muscled man pummeling a punching bag. His gloved hands worked the heavy bag with forceful punches causing the sturdy bag to lurch up with every blow. The rugged man stopped suddenly and looked toward Monique. He gave the bag a parting jab and said, "You must be Monique. Excuse the attire but I train every morning before going to work." Monique smiled and said, "I applaud your discipline. You look great."
"Thanks. Most people are way too soft. We have a nation full of snowflakes and marshmallows. Oh, by the way I am B.D. Abbreviation for Bradley Arthur Donald. Some call me B.A.D. I prefer B.D."
Monique smiled while further appraising his body. He wore a black tank top, shorts, and red gym shoes. His arms were inked, on one shoulder was the image of a voluptuous woman, and the other was dominated by a skull dripping blood. His arms and legs were heavily muscled. She glanced at a workout bench under a bar bending slightly under the load of two huge metal plates.
"Please come in. We'll go through the front entrance." B.D. led the way and ushered Monique to the living room where he motioned her to take seat on the sofa. "I have coffee brewing. Would you like some?"
"Please. Black," Monique said. Maybe sipping a mug of coffee would calm my nerves, she mused. She felt intimidated by B.D.'s bearing. He was physically intimidating, confident, speaking in a deep and commanding voice. He was not a snowflake or marshmallow.
B.D. Returned holding two steaming mugs of coffee. He offered Monique a mug and then lowered himself into an adjacent chair. As he settled in his eyes devoured her voluptuous body enjoining the visual feast. Great legs and a bra challenged by full breasts straining to break free.
"Well," B.D. said, "You are worried about your son. Something about being bullied?"
Monique cleared her voice. "Billy comes home from school most days complaining about mean kids pushing him around. Either threatening to steal his lunch money, forcing him to inhale a cigarette, or hints of forcing his head into a toilet and flushing it. He's perpetually scared."
"Does he fight back?"
