The Cool Mom

Liv Franklin leaned against her van with lithe, unassuming grace, taking a moment to sun herself and relax as she waited for her son to get out of school.

Liv knew that she drew looks of envy from the other moms at school. Still in her mid-thirties, she had a tight, buxom body and a smooth, unlined face that was difficult for the other women in the pickup lane to match. Whatever. Liv didn't feel bad for them. If they wanted to be the young mother of an 18-year-old boy, then they should have been a teen mom like Liv.

She suspected they wouldn't like that trade-off.

It hadn't been easy. Liv felt like it hadn't been until the past few years that she had finally gotten her life in order. But things were good now. She had lucked into her job at the mayor's office a few years back, which let her and Elliot afford a better apartment. She was seeing a really nice guy. And, although she would miss Elliot terribly when he went off to college in the fall, she was looking forward to being an independent, childless woman for the first time in 18 years. Maybe things could really heat up with her new boyfriend.

Even marriage was on the table.

So the envious eyes of the old hags didn't bother her that much. Just as Liv opened her eyes from her brief reflection, she saw her son Elliot headed out of the school with his group of friends. She waved at him with a sunny smile, but her expression curdled a little as she glanced at his friends.

Liv could handle the negative attention from her fellow moms. But the positive attention from her son's classmates was harder to swallow. Even from this distance, she could feel their slimy little eyes crawling over her body. Didn't they have any shame? She was their buddy's mom from God's sake.

On some level, she understood, of course. There would always be an allure for some young men toward confident older women. Especially confident older women with lustrous raven black hair, visible tattoos, and a habit of overdoing their eye makeup a little. Her style and vibe scratched an itch for young men looking for something... a little harder-edged. She got that. She didn't even necessarily mind if the little pervs had sneaky jerkoff fantasies about their pal's young, hot mom.

She just wanted them to stop staring at her tits.

Liv's tits were magnificent. Fantastic. Incredible. All the superlatives that she had heard men say hundreds of times over the years. They should be. She had paid enough for them. 18-year-olds weren't known for their self-control, but these boys did such a bad job controlling their eyes that they had worn Liv's patience thin. She couldn't wait until Elliot was safely off to college and she never had to see any of these boys ever again.

Liv gave a thin smile to her son as Elliot held up a finger in a "one-second" gesture, deep in a conversation with his friend group. But the smile disappeared as Marco De Luca peeled off from the group and headed toward her.

Marco was living proof that you couldn't choose your child's friends for him. Because if Liv had her way, Marco wouldn't be allowed within fifty feet of her son. He was the kind of cunning, lazy boy who never succeeded at anything, but always found someone else to blame for it. In high school, that had translated to him being a burnout and a bad influence on Elliot. But Liv could see where it would lead him in life: a dead-end job at a gas station or autobody shop and a smoldering resentment toward anyone who had made something of their lives. It was probably a shitty thing to think about a kid, but Liv didn't care. She had already noticed Marco's resentment toward Elliot for going to college, and she was thankful that soon Elliot would be out of his "best friend's" influence forever. She knew Marco's type too well. She used to have to deal with shitheads like him all the time.

And he was the worst of the bunch when it came to staring at her chest as well. Even as he came sauntering up to her with an oily smile on his face, his gaze was locked onto her chest, shamelessly undressing her with his eyes. Liv gritted her teeth. School would be out in a few months. She probably wouldn't have to see this kid more than any handful of times ever again. Now wasn't the time to make a fuss.

"Marco," Liv said cooly. "How are things? Got your plans all lined up for next year?" she asked, unable to make herself sound interested.

Marco shrugged noncommittally. His muddy brown eyes finally slid lazily up from her chest to meet hers. "My Uncle owns a repair shop in town," he said in a voice already rough and deep from smoking. "I might try that out. See how I like it."

Liv had to keep herself from smirking. Well look at that, she had got it in one. She couldn't help tossing in a little barb: "What? No college in the fall? I thought a smart boy like you would be a lawyer or doctor for sure!" Marco's eyes narrowed, but for some reason, he didn't look mad. Instead, a nasty little smirk lit up Marco's face.

"Well, Liv," he said in an amused drawl. "I guess not all of us can be successful like your golden boy son." Liv felt a twinge of annoyance at being called by her first name. As if Marco was claiming to be her equal. It was another of his nasty habits. At least her son's other loser friends had the decency to call her Ms. Franklin. There had always been something insolent about this kid.

But suddenly, Marco leaned close, a look of hungry anticipation in his eyes. Even before he spoke, Liv felt a cold spike of fear pierce her heart.

This wasn't a good look to see on any man's face, her instincts screamed.

"We lesser folks need to know our place, and take whatever dirty jobs we can get." Marco's muddy brown eyes gleamed with perverse amusement even as his tone dropped to a murmur. "Isn't that right..."

"...Vixen?"

Liv felt the blood drain from her face, and she was suddenly grateful that she was already leaning against her van so that it wasn't obvious how weak and wobbly her knees had gotten. She didn't know how her son's little shithead friend had gotten that name, but he had to be bluffing. She had been careful.

There was no evidence.

Luckily, Liv had always been pretty good at bullshitting. "Who?" she asked casually. "Do you have me confused with someone else, kiddo?"

"Nah, Vixen," said Marco with a cruel sneer, "I don't think I'm confused at all." He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. He already had the video pulled up. This little ambush had been planned. His other shithead friends were probably stalling Elliot on purpose.

Liv looked down with sick fascination at the video playing on the screen, although she knew what she would see. She had fucking told Jerry that the promo video was a bad idea. She had known that someday it might bite her in the ass. The name "Vixen" appeared in tacky gold font on a purple background. How had Marco even fucking got a hold of this? She had called in some favors years ago to get this video scrubbed from the web completely.

On the screen, a sultry, top-heavy silhouette swayed onto the stage on ridiculously high heels. It was obvious that whoever it was was completely topless. "Put that shit away!" hissed Liv, eyes darting around to make sure no one else could see the humiliating video. But Marco waited a few seconds more, just long enough for a bright spotlight to illuminate the shadowy figure.

19-year-old Livvy Franklin, leaning back against the pole at center stage, thrusting her chest out to show off her brand-new fake tits, covered only with heart-shaped pasties.

Ok, so Liv had been a stripper. She wasn't particularly proud of it. It was a time in her life that she tried not to think about too much. Elliot had been just a toddler, his dad wasn't in the picture, and it wasn't easy to make ends meet. That's all there was to it. Nothing deeper than that...

Marco locked his phone and slipped it back into the pocket of his grubby jeans. He looked like a cat that had caught a mouse. God Liv wanted to punch his smug little face in.

But that wasn't an option currently.

"Elliot told me all about your fancy new job," said Marco in a voice of mocking enthusiasm, "and your new high-class boyfriend. Your family's really moving on up, isn't it, Vixen?"

"Stop calling me that," said Liv numbly, her mind working a thousand miles an hour, trying to see a way out of this.

Marco ignored her. "I bet your boss and boyfriend would be verrrrrry interested to see this video. Disgusted maybe... but definitely interested."

Liv glared right into the little shit's eyes with a piercing glare. If he wanted her to beg and cry, then he had come to the wrong woman. "What do you want, Marco?" she asked coldly.

If Marco was intimidated by the fierce older woman glaring up at him, he didn't show it. "Oh, nothing much. It's just me and Elliot's other buddies are feeling a little sore about him going off to college and leaving us behind. I just want to give them a little... equalizer. Something to make them feel like they have one up on their high-riding pal Elliot. I want Vixen to come out of retirement one last time for a little party I'm throwing."

Liv's guts did a complicated flip-flop inside her at the obscene suggestion. Liv had never been the best at controlling her emotions, and before she knew it, she had a fistful of Marco's t-shirt in her hand and slammed him against the door of her van. "Listen here you nasty little perv!" she snarled, trying her best to keep her voice low, "I'm not some airheaded little slut that a worthless burnout like you can push around. Try that fucking sicko bullshit with me one more time and I'll send you crying home to your mommy."

Marco finally looked surprised. He had apparently expected his threats of ruining her job and her relationship to work. Marco didn't know Liv Franklin at all. She had been fired before, and if Craig couldn't handle her checkered past, then they probably wouldn't work out long-term anyway. Like hell she would humiliate herself sexually for a waste of space like little Marco De Luca.

But Liv's instincts for danger flickered again as she saw Marco's eyes light up with cunning, his eyes looking over her shoulder. "You'd better let me go, Vixen," he said his voice dripping with disdain. "Or your precious baby boy might see, and wonder what mommy is arguing about with his best friend."

Liv slowly released Marco's t-shirt from her sweaty grip, apprehension prickling the hairs on the back of her neck.

"In fact," continued Marco with fresh confidence, "There is a lot of bad stuff your precious golden boy might see if you aren't careful." His eyes glittered with malice as Liv felt the blood drain from her face once again.

Marco leaned forward until his cruel, cunning face was just inches from Liv's lovely features. "It's just a few months left in senior year, Vixen. But that's a looooong time to be the kid whose hot mom has a naked video going around the school. And that's not to mention what could happen if that video got shared around campus at the college Elliot's headed to in the fall. It might make it hard to make new upper-class friends when everybody knows your Mom's a filthy stripper."

"Don't."

That one cracked word was all that Liv could force out. She didn't give a shit what happened to her, but she wouldn't be able to stand it if anything bad happened to Elliot. And, as infuriating as it was, Marco was one hundred percent correct: armed with that video, he absolutely had the power to make her son's life a living hell. As humiliating as it was, the little bastard had her by the balls.

She had no choice.

"One party," she said in a cracked voice, feeling a hot, uncharacteristic blush stain her normally confident face.

"One party," agreed Marco with a smug, shit-eating grin. "With a personal lap dance for yours truly."

Liv had to resist the urge to slam the little shit back up against her van. "No phones recording," she growled, still unable to believe that she was going through with this. The insanity of the situation was making her feel a little dizzy.

"I swear to god," said Marco, with a mocking hand over his heart. "No phones."

"And then the video is deleted," whispered Liv, defeated.

"You have my word," said Marco with a triumphant smirk.

Liv felt sick, and used, and small. She had been outmaneuvered by a burnout high schooler her son's age. And now, for one night at least, she would be his sexual plaything. She would show off her body for her son's friends, not only as a humiliating submission to their inappropriate desire for their friend's mom but also as a way for them to humiliate Elliot behind his back.

"You win, Marco," she whispered in a tight, infuriated voice.

Liv chased away the faint ghost of arousal she felt at the debasing situation. That was the last thing she fucking needed right now.

"One more thing..." said Marco with a grin. "I need you to help me win a bet. Just a little thing. Well... two little things. I'll even pay for them..."

...

Liv threw back her head and drained her flask before taking one last despairing look in the bathroom mirror.

She had to admit she looked fucking hot.

A ridiculous parody of a white dress shirt was tied just below her big fake tits, exposing a generous sliver of her pale breasts spilling out the bottom. A tiny fringe of a red tartan miniskirt barely concealed the matching plaid thong that hid beneath. The skimpy outfit was completely by huge shiny black platform heels. They would have been impossible to walk in for an average woman, but Liv had no trouble. It was like riding a bike. Once you had the knack, you never really forgot. Her silky black hair was tied up into two pigtails, and her makeup was even more dramatic than usual, with a dark cat-eye and ruby red lipstick.

The irony of being forced to dress up as a slutty schoolgirl for a bunch of 18-year-olds still in high school wasn't lost on her. That was no doubt why Marco had insisted on this costume in the first place. A huge part of the thrill was humiliating her as much as possible, and forcing an older woman to dress up in a fetishy little girl costume for younger men was just another way to twist the knife. Liv fought down yet another upwelling of twisted arousal. No. She was stronger than that. She had put that kink behind her along with her stripping career over a decade ago.

She heard the deep rattling bass of the dance music Marco had chosen for her debut. That was her cue.

Show time.

Liv took a deep, shuddering breath. She had learned her lesson fifteen years ago when she lit up the stage of The Panther Club as "Vixen". No matter what you felt inside, you had to show the boys calm confident enthusiasm. That lesson would be sorely tested tonight.

Liv placed her sweaty hand on the bathroom doorknob and felt her pulse pound in her ears, clashing with the deep rhythm rattling through the doors. Marco had snuck her into the back of his house in her street clothes, but when she went out that door, all of her son's friends would see her for the first time in her slutty stripper outfit.

Fuck it. Time to rip the bandaid off.

Liv threw open the door and strode out with a fierce hip-swaying walk, her face painted with brash, sexy confidence. Her stomach turned flips as she saw the party guests. About a dozen senior boys. All of her son's friends. Maybe a dozen of them. Every pimply-faced brat who had ever slept over at their place. Liv distinctly remembered making pancakes for more than half of the boys sitting around the dimly lit living room.

And now all of their eyes watched her with the slimy superiority of strip club patrons, all respect for her as their friend's mom stripped away. That was what made it hot: how the bossy, mature woman they knew had been transformed into a walking piece of ass.

Marco sat in pride of place in the best seat in the house, a comfy-looking recliner. He had somehow gotten his hands on a microphone, which he used to announce: "Gentlemen, may I present to your Elliot's slutty mom. Better known as... Vixen." The assembled boys oohed and ahhed, elbowing each other and chuckling with nervous arousal at the taboo show they were about to enjoy.

"Why don't you give them a show they'll remember, Vixen," commanded Marco, gesturing to the center of the room. A stripper pole had been set up, gleaming bronze in the dim light, pulling Liv forward like a magnet. She had stopped by to check the setup yesterday and had to grudgingly admit that it was useable. Liv had no idea how Marco had swung it. He must be blowing through his savings from his shitty part-time jobs because high-quality portable stripper poles weren't cheap. Not to mention the other little "gifts" he had bought her.

Liv swayed toward the pole, popping her hips a little as she walked to give her titties just the right amount of jiggle. She probably could have just given a stiff little awkward dance, stripped naked quickly, and claimed she had held up her end of the bargain, but something... strange was happening inside her.

The combination of the slutty stripper outfit, the gleaming pole, the slimy eyes of the boys around the edges of the room... They were waking up something inside Liv that she had thought was gone forever.

Contrary to all good sense and logic, Vixen was coming out to play.

Liv reached the pole and spun around it in a graceful circle, glaring around the room and meeting the eyes of her audience with smokey heat. The thing about Vixen was that she had always kept a dirty little secret. One that she tried to hide even from her stripper coworkers.

Liv lifted her tiny skirt to reveal her tiny plaid panties and leaned back against the pole, humping the air with smooth, lithe hip movements, maintaining smoldering eye contact with Marco. That little shit. Being forced to submit to a little nothing like him was one of the biggest humiliations of her life.

But that was the really dangerous part about this whole thing. That had been Vixen's secret. Most strippers made some excuse to themselves about why what they were doing was necessary, or even empowering. Not Vixen. From her first day to the day Liv quit, she had always found it deeply humiliating to get up on stage and take off her clothes for men. And that was the whole point.

Because Vixen got off on humiliation. The dirtier and more degrading the job was, the hotter and wetter she would get.

Liv was careful to draw the distinction between her current self and Vixen, even as she tore off the velcroed skirt, tossing it to the hooting highschoolers and revealing her wide hips, thick thighs and juicy ass, now covered only by the tiny porny thong.

Vixen got off on the humiliation and degradation of being a stripper. NOT Liv. She had put that self-destructive fetish behind her years ago, when she realized she was close to losing her way and falling headlong into the sex industry.

Liv leaped athletically into the air, catching the pole between her strong thighs and twirling around it, causing cheers of awe and delight from the assembled horny boys. Cocks were coming out of pants all throughout the crowd. It would never have been allowed in a strip club, but this was a private party after all.

Liv's heart skipped a beat as she noticed how fucking massive Marco's cock was.

She landed gracefully, her eyes unwillingly locked onto the thick cock of her son's friend. His hand was traveling up and down its impressive length, and Liv found her hips moving and swirling to the same rhythm. It was humiliating to be demoted to spank material for this little bastard.... So deliciously humiliating...

Marco raised his free hand and sharply snapped. Liv couldn't hear it over the pulsing rhythm, but the movement got her attention. Snapping for her like she was some kind of dog for him to command... blended rage and arousal swelled inside her. From across the room, she could read his lips.