Inspired by My Goddess and My Sylph. Thank you, ladies. A tip of the keyboard to BlackRandl1958 for her editing skills and her patience.
I found out pretty early in life that God invested the female of the species with magical powers, and that in the end the male of the species was just along for the ride.
I was 11 years old and was going to the mall with my best friend, Mikey Veraczocchio, and his mother. The mall parking lot was packed, and cars seemed to be heading every which way without any pattern as drivers looked for open spots in which to park. After Mrs. V parked the car, Mikey and I got out and started heading for the nearest door, when Mrs. V called out "Boys!"
Being the obedient children we were, we stopped immediately.
"Give me your hands, boys. Neither one of you is getting killed in this parking lot today," she said.
We both looked at her like she had lost her mind. We were 11 years old. We didn't need to hold a parent's hand like some freaking 5 year old. What if one of our friends saw that? Life as we knew it would have been over.
Mrs. V (the name was pronounced Vo-chic-key-o; leave it to the Polish people to screw up a name) stood there like a statue. We both slowly walked back to her and each took a hand. The most amazing thing of my life then happened. What I would have sworn was an electric current ran from Mrs. V's hand into mine and a feeling came over me that was unlike any other I'd experienced. There was a warmth and excitement that was overwhelming, all from the touch of her hand. Nothing else in the world existed for me in the 90 seconds or so it took us to get to the mall doors except for the current running from Mrs. V's hand into my body. It was wonderful.
"C'mon Zane, let's go," Mikey said to me as we got the door.
I broke from my reverie, or whatever it was, and gave Mrs. V a grateful smile. She smiled back, and I wondered if she knew that she had just changed my life.
"Don't get too far ahead of me, boys," she said as I let go and joined Mikey.
Even at 11, I knew Mrs. V was a beautiful woman. She was easily the prettiest of all my friends' moms, and she easily had more curves than those other women, too. Curves had become very important to my friends and I in the last year, even if most of the girls our age didn't have any.
Nobody's mom was ever talked about being beautiful, except for Mikey's mom. I know it embarrassed him, so I didn't do it. He'd been my best friend since his family moved down the block from my family when we were both 4.
Apparently, there is much more to marriage then just good looks, because about a year later, Mikey's father divorced Mrs. V. All the adults in the neighborhood did a lot of whispering about what was happening. Some of the other moms seemed pleased. I overheard one woman complain that if Mrs. V couldn't hold onto her husband with those looks, what chance did any of them have?
Having spent a lot of time over at Mikey's house and being his best friend, I knew things weren't right between his parents for some time before his dad filed for divorce. Mikey had told me that he thought his father, a high-ranking officer in a local bank, had a good-looking younger woman as his girlfriend, and that his mom found out and they began to fight. We spent a lot more time at my house after that.
Mikey and Mrs. V got to stay in their house, though, after the divorce was official, so at least I kept my best friend. For her part, Mrs. V tried to act like nothing was different when I was there, but I could tell she was sad a lot of the time. She also had to get a job, and went to work in the local high school as one of the front office secretaries.
As we grew older, the other guys took more notice of Mikey's mother, and honestly, there was a lot to notice. She had long, wavy dark brown hair, deep pools of dark brown eyes and full lips to go along with olive skin. She was a classic Italian beauty, and it certainly didn't hurt that she had the body of a goddess. She might have packed an extra 10 pounds on her 5-4 frame, but on her it looked very good.
With his father not at home, Mikey picked up a lot of the chores around the house that Mr. V would normally have done. Since I was over a lot, I would usually help out. Isn't that what friends are for? Mrs. V always made sure to thank me for the help. She would give me a smile with those perfect white teeth and suddenly I would lose track of the time. But I always made sure to keep my distance and be respectful. She was my best friend's mother, and besides, if my father ever found out I wasn't being respectful, he would have shoved his right foot so far up my ass I wouldn't be able to walk for a week.
Both of my parents were pleased that I helped out at the Veraczocchios. They had been pretty good friends with both Traci and Tony, and were saddened to see Tony leave, especially since he was leaving for another woman.
"Apparently when you become a VP, you think you have to get that trophy wife," my father said to my mother over dinner one night.
"Most people would have thought Traci
was
the trophy wife," my mother replied back. "Just goes to show you. You ever do that to me, I won't divorce you. I'll cut your dick off and stuff it down your throat," she said matter-of-factly without even glancing my way despite the fact that Mom almost never talked like that in front of me.
My father looked at me quietly and raised both of his eyebrows, then gave his head a tiny shake. I took Mom as serious as a heart attack, and I'm pretty sure he did, too.
Things got a little tougher on Mikey when the kids in our grade got up to the high school. Although Mrs. V always dressed very nicely for her job as a front office secretary, she just couldn't hide that body enough to keep the bigmouths shut. And they gave it to Mike relentlessly.
"Shit, did you see that sweater Mrs. V had on today? Those puppies were jiggling and shaking every time she walked," said a fellow classmate to another in the cafeteria as Mike walked by with a tray of food.
"Knock it off, dickhead," I said as I came up behind Mikey, "or you'll be wearing this plate of shitty food."
Neither Mikey nor I was very big, but I know Mikey had promised Mrs. V he wouldn't get into any fights at school because of her. I didn't make any such promises, and I was ready to go to battle for my friend.
"Tough guy, Lambert, aren't you," said the tormentor. He started to say something else, but before he could get the words out of his mouth I had dumped a full tray of food on his head, then used the empty tray to slap him upside the right side of his face. He spluttered and went down in a heap. A lunchroom aide called a nurse for him, and security for me. I was taken down to Assistant Principal William Shires' office, where the gruff bastard meted out discipline punishment.
After some talking with the aide, I was ushered into Shires' inner sanctum, and he promptly read me the riot act. But unlike so many who get nervous when being yelled at, I was able to keep my calm, mostly because I knew my dad would have my back when I told him I was defending Mikey. Shires blustered for about two full minutes, and when he saw that I wasn't cringing, he started to get red in the face.
"I guess I'll have to call your father, son, and see if he can reach you."
