“Why would you want to put on her?” you ask, mildly horrified.
“Out of curiosity,” she says, but she realizes you’re not satisfied with the answer. “Michelle’s nice, but I don’t see why George would choose her over... well, over ‘me’.”
“Is she young?” Jimmy asks.
“About ten years younger,” she mentions. “But other than that...” She sighs. “Michelle is a bit like me, but with darker hair.”
“You’re not exactly a blonde,” Trish comments. “Well, not you you, but you get what I mean.”
She rubs her hair, touching her tips. “Technically, I’m in between blonde and brunette.”
“George is blond,” you explain, trying to stay in character, “but on the darker side of blonde. Jessica got all the blonde genes, while Katherine got a bit of the mixed ones.”
“Oh, so you’re naturally blonde,” Trish asks, doing the opposite of you.
“Like I said, in-between. But my daughter Jessica does, if you’re asking. I suppose Patricia’s father is a ginger, isn’t he?”
Your friend snorts. “Well, I’m also on the odd side of blonde, so it’s natural that she ended up inheriting a lot of her father’s traits.”
“What made you divorce your ex?” your girl asks, though you know the answer.
“He had to move.”
“Had to?” Jessica asks. “What made you stay?”
“You don’t get it, Denise. He had to move. Paying our bills, taking care of Tricia when I was actively competing – he was making a lot of sacrifices, and it was draining him. He tried to support my dream, and I tried to make it as a professional, but I would’ve been more successful back home. Even when I changed my name and appeared more American, I was too European for local sponsors.”
“Really?” She snorts. “I mean, other than the accent slips, you’re no different from anyone I’ve seen.”
“And that’s after years of living here. The point is, Ryan got offered a better position at a different state, so he proposed an idea – he'd move, I’d raise Tricia, and whenever I went to competitions, she’d move with him. I suspected he was trying to do this to divorce me, and after I discussed it...” Trish sighs. “He confirmed it. Except it wouldn’t be immediate.”
“Let me guess,” your girl deduced. “He suggested an amicable divorce.”
“For Tricia’s sake, but also for mine. He wanted to ensure I had my citizenship, after all. We divorced after telling her...” She paused again, as you recall when Trish told you about what happened to their parents. “About what was happening to our relationship.”
“I bet it must’ve been painful.”
“You tell me,” Jimmy claims, breaking character. “That hit her hard. I had to tell her...” He takes a breath, subsuming himself into his mother. “Jimmy told her about living without a parent. He was very sweet to help his friend by doing that.”
“He sure did,” your athletic friend confirmed. “Turns out, Jimmy can be a softie sometimes.”
“And what about you?” Jessica asks your other friend. “How did you divorce?”
Jimmy’s face – his mother’s, to be precise – changed colors until it settled on a simmering red. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“That bad?”
“You know how terrible it is to hold a secret for so long?” Something within Jimmy’s voice – besides him speaking in his mother’s own – felt off. It was hard to figure out if it was him, or him playing as her. “And one as terrible as this?”
“You don’t have to talk about it,” Trish said, intervening.
“A shame,” Jessica follows. “I mean, we could help you if you told us, but if it’s that painful...”
You look around, checking that no one hears – and that the waiter isn’t around – to finally break character. “I know you always wanted to know about your dad, but you need to tell someone. If you want to tell me in private--”
That seems to break him, as he steps away. You follow him, after assuring Trish and Jessica, and reach him just as he’s about to reach the men’s bathroom. You grab him, and he’s crying; you jerk your head towards the women’s bathroom, smiling to soften the blow. As you close and lock the door, you hug him. “It’s alright. You can cry.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Hey - I know how much you’ve asked your mom. I know how you’ve basically dreamt of it. If it startled you like this--”
“It’s worse than that,” he confesses. “I always wanted to know why Mom never told me about him, but now that I know? I can’t call him ‘Dad’. He’s disgusting.”
You gulp. “That bad, then.”
“It’s worse. Because of what that man did, Mom lost her chance with my uncle.” You know why he says that – though you haven’t met his uncle Bradley, you know he lives a comfortable life. Jimmy has often dreamed of a life like that; to know that could have been his life must be gnawing on him.
“Well, at least he ended up being your uncle. But you know that’s not why I’m here.” You hug him again, whispering to his ear. “You don’t have to hold your tears, man. No one’s gonna judge you.”
“Because women can cry, right?”
“Even if you were yourself, but sure.”
He returns the hug, slowly returning to his old ways. “Man, I can’t imagine how it’d be if we weren’t wearing our moms while learning that.”
“Why?”
“Because hugging your mom feels so good.” You push him back, and you see he’s recovered. “What? Hey – I know you find Mom hot! Mom even knows you’ve been peeking at her, but she wouldn’t do anything – she sees you as another son!”
“Are you telling me you find my mom hot?”
“Maybe if she lost a few pounds. She’s more Claire than Tina, if you catch my drift.”
You do – he finds your mother “cute”, rather than “hot” - but you didn’t expect your mother to. He finds me cute?
And Claire’s disgust flares to the surface as well. Eww!
--
After allowing Jimmy to rub your mother’s curves (perhaps a bit too much) and calm down, you lead him back to the table, noticing a couple more glasses at the table. Jessica has taken the opportunity to challenge her liver with various different cocktails, all while leaving her salad half-empty.
And she’s already tipsy, judging by how she receives you. “Took you long to powder your nose, darling?”
“Had to wait until Julie felt better,” you respond as you sit. Your food – a lemon-and-garlic chicken breast, complete with a loaded baked potato and veggies, something not far from what your mother would choose but with your own twist – is waiting for you, and judging by how it’s no longer steaming, it must have arrived a while ago. (That, and Jessica and Mrs. Hunt are slow eaters.)
“And what did that imply – kissing and touching?” (Is this why Jessica wanted to drink?)
“A little groping,” Jimmy confessed. “But Marie knows how to pep me up – I really needed it.”
“Yeah,” Trish points out. “I can see a little bit of the mascara on your cheek – but only on close up. Didn’t imagine you’d be that good at makeup.”
“Have a lot of experience,” he states confidently.
“Good to know.” Trish remarks before taking a bite of her own plate – same as yours, but with a less-loaded potato – with a grasp you’ve only seen her mother do. The way she bent to bite, the lick on her lips – it's impressive how the pens let you mimic them so flawlessly.
That thought remains with you as you cut the breast. You often spread your elbows while cutting, keeping the knife level to the plate, but your mother cuts with the tip, like a mantis. You resort to this at first, given how packed you are, but after you speak, it’s as if your hands curved exactly as hers. Even your cuts are smaller, compared to the first.
And it’s not just the cut. The bite as well – you’re also chewing more. After Jessica drunkenly relates an inappropriate moment with her ex, you find yourself halfway through your plate, where normally you would have finished yours. In fact, the waiter doesn’t even bother to ask if he can remove any, seeing as no one has finished theirs. (Though Jessica asks him for a mai tai, her drink already gone.)
Even your pose has changed, adapted to your new situation. It feels like the more you strive to behave as your mother, the more traits surface upon you. Soon, only key tells from your friends remind you that they’re not their mothers – key amongst all the three desserts Trish asks for, each of them sugar bombs.
And in your case, it’s Claire’s nagging that reminds you that you’re not your mother. It’s the only unsettling experience, as your body feels nice – the tightness of her bra and panties feels strangely delicious, almost as if cuddling you.
You can’t wait to take the bra off and massage those big breasts. Or is it Claire who wants that, and it’s rubbing on you?
--
Jessica and Trish look very pleased with themselves. Your girl is already at the stage where she lost all inhibitions – fortunately for you, safely inside her car – and your friend is still licking her lips at all the sweets she consumed. “I’d do this just to eat candy every day,” she confesses.
“Just ask me,” Jessica suggested. “I could even get someone myself and hang together.”
That prompts the biggest double-take from Jimmy. “Well, I didn’t expect that.”
“Jess and I connected while you were drowning Jimmy’s tears. Speaking of that – was he really groping you?”
“He needed a distraction.”
“That bad, huh?” Jessica’s face twists. “How bad could it be?”
“Bad,” you respond, summoning your mother’s tone of disappointment. “And let’s leave it at that, alright?”
“So,” Jimmy asks. “What now? The night’s still young, and no one’s expecting us at home.”
He is right, but the look of your girl suggests something else. She’s hungry for something else. And you don’t want her to go too wild while drunk.
un: 
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Community Feed
Puzzle Hub
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
Workspaces
