Hello, Good Looking

Three is a magic number. Three words would forever change Robert and Toni’s lives. Three words would set mother and son upon a path they never imagined. “Hello, Good Looking,” Bobby exclaims when surprised to find his mom standing at his bedroom door. When she smiled at his compliment, he knew it was true. He needed to find more ways to let Mom know how good looking she really is, and he knew how.

~~~~~  Excerpt  ~~~~~

Tuesday, January 31, 1990 started cold and grey. It was another dreary Illinois winter day; but without a fresh dumping of snow there would be school. I needed some extra motivation to get the War Machine rolling. Donning Iron Maiden’s Powerslave T-shirt, with a mummified Eddie getting zapped with lightning and a pair of sweat pants, I started to feel the power. Facing the mirror and reenacting his actions, I proclaimed, “By the power of Greyskull… I Have The Power!!!”

I popped Judas Priest’s Defenders of the Faith cassette in my stereo. When the shriek of K. K. Downing and Glenn Tipton’s twin guitar assault began, it got my motor running. Facing the mirror, I psyched myself up, singing/screaming “Freewheel Burning.” My blood thumping in time with the thundering drumbeat, I was ready for some action.

For forty minutes, I worked out. Sweating and grunting, my weight stack rumbled; I pounded the iron. Between sets, huffing an’ puffing, imitating Ravishing Rick Rude, I arrogantly flexed before the mirror. Finishing my workout, I was working on my abs, when she showed up. I was lying on the floor, with my feet on the bench doing a set of crunches when I saw her. I thanked god I was there. This morning, my 18th birthday, my mom looked truly phenomenal.

From my position, I saw she was barefoot and her toenails freshly painted red. They matched the red pants she wore. At her feet, her pants were loose bells but as they rose, they tightened. By the time they reached her thighs, they were hugging them snuggly. My eyes rolled up, enjoying the sight of her riveting red pants as they molded to her lush hips.

Her pants had a high-waist, where they rode up over her hips. Following her curves, they squeezed in as they rose onto her waist. In the center, two large gold buttons sat boldly at the top of her waistband. But, it was what was above that held me in awe.

My mother was wearing a top of the like I never saw her wear before. Tucked into her high-waisted pants, she wore a taut white tee shirt that sparkled with woven gold threads. From being tucked in, her shirt was forced to extend outward swiftly to handle the great thrust of her big boobs. Her top was compelled to stretch mightily in its attempt to contain her cannons.