WARNING: This story is a tribute to genre legends like George VI, thehumpman, TheStinger and sa2222, especially the legendary story "Home Run". If you're into that kind of stuff, I salute you as a fellow traveler. If you're not into that kind of stuff, and read this story even after this warning, go ahead and rage in the comments section as usual, your tears of outrage taste delicious to me. Also, nobody cares about your threats to give low ratings, you're literally reading this for free.
"Acting is not just a hobby, it needs passion." I could hear the voice of our drama teacher Mr Johnson still echoing in my ears as I walked home. The big school play was in two days and he was still not happy with our performances, he wanted us to put a lot more effort into the emotions and dialogue, which he felt were being delivered stale. I was exhausted from all the rehearsals after school, and just wanted to stuff myself with some tasty dinner and get much needed sleep.
My legs were killing me from standing up all evening long. My friend Fred and I were both playing evil robots and we were expected to act stiff throughout the rehearsals, like we were method actors or something. My entire body ached from it.
As I entered the house I was surprised to hear the sound of laughter, since my father was out of town and I figured mom was alone. Walking through the entrance corridor, I peered into the living room and was taken aback to see the tall figure of my mother standing next to my classmate Josh, with a stack of framed paintings behind them.
I was confused what he was going there. Mom had recently taken up artwork of historical figures and had even sold a portrait of Mary Antoinette a few weeks ago. She loved having her handiwork displayed in our home, and often hung them up on the walls. The two of them seemed to be talking and laughing back and forth, clearly having a great time.
Peering in, I was too tired to talk and leaned against the archway instead to observe. Josh was wiping up the frames with a piece of cloth and laying them as a stack, while Mom took them one by one and hung them on the nails. My mother like taking them all down and rearranging the portraits quite often, so each frame was going on a new nail in the living room wall. The two seemed engrossed in the task.
At one point, as she reached up to hang a portrait on a nail slightly higher above her, mom's shirt inadvertently rode up. I saw Josh covertly stare with a big grin; her shirt was quite short and I'm sure he got a healthy view of her flat midriff. Yes, she is my mom, but I can admit she has a great figure.
I didn't like that Josh was staring at her, but I was used to such things because many of my friends often talked about how hot my mother was. Even though it did annoy me at times, I had gotten accustomed to it and just shrugged it off most of the time.
My mother adjusted the painting and came back for the next one, oblivious that her son's eighteen-year-old high school classmate had just secretly ogled her. That's when I finally limped in, exhausted.
"Hey guys." I said weakly, entering the living room.
"Hey honey!" my mother said, going to hang the next frame.
"Hey Shawn, how was the rehearsal?" Josh asked.
"Not too bad but exhausting, Mr Johnson wants our performances to have more power though. What are you doing here?" I asked, leaning on the wall again.
"He's helping me rearrange the paintings, he's such a great helper!" mom piped in cheerfully.
"I came to hang out after school, but your mom said you were still out for practice, so I suggested I help her with chores." He shrugged.
"Oh yeah, Mr Johnson's rehearsals go on for damn long these days."
"Shawn, how many times have I told you not to swear like that?" mom frowned, swiveling when I said that. Mom often babied me by pestering me about swear words, homework, being tidy and so on. I never made a big deal out of it because I knew she meant well, but it frequently embarrassed me when she did it in front of my friends.
"Geez mom, it's not even considered a proper swear word these days!" I said shaking my head.
"It doesn't matter young man, rules are rules!"
"Ok, ok geez.", shaking my head, I quickly retreated upstairs to shower before dinner.
The shower made me feel a lot more refreshed and the hot water soothed my aching joints a little. As I headed downstairs, I could still hear them. Josh was helping mom set up the plates on the table for dinner. I was starving when I took my seat, the two of them continued talking and laughing with each other. He kept complimenting her on how neat the house was, how great the food smelled, how creative her paintings were and so on. My mother had a big grin on her face, clearly flattered. I just rolled my eyes and thought to myself what a sycophant he is.
I also noticed him secretly ogling her more. I had to admit, she looked very good at the moment, even in her home clothes. The buttoned white shirt was made of a thin material, and the outline of her bra was visible under the bright lights of the dining room. She was in her matching workout shorts, a cotton set. It wasn't short, but was once again thin enough to make out the panty lines under certain angles of the light.
She was not wearing any make-up and her long dark hair was loose over her shoulders. As I mentioned before, she had a great figure. She was 5'10 and slender, reminiscent of the old school runaway models of the 90s. I always thought she uncannily resembled how the model Cindy Crawford looked at 45, including the lean figure, thick lips and beauty mark. Mom never dressed in a slutty or attention-seeking way, but she had a great sense of style and wardrobe.
We ate dinner and I was out of the discussion for most of it. They talked about politics and novels, which was unusual at our house. Dad and I watched movies and sports all the time, so we don't keep up with more intellectual stuff, like mom. Josh seemed to know a lot about these things, so my mom loved having someone to talk with about all that. I was famished and gouged the food down with relish.
