He tricks a mom out of her clothes
Brendan asked his mother to talk to James, who was bullying him at school. It would be better if his father spoke to the boy, but he was away on business. His mom was the only hope, and so Brendon explained how to approach the boy.
'Don't shout and rave at him, mom, that won't work. He will just bully me all the more,' Brendan said.
Alicia wondered if it would be best left to her husband. He was used to negotiating, as it was one of his business techniques. Both boys were eighteen, so she was reluctant to get involved.
'I'm not sure, Brendan. I, err, I'm not very good at being, err, you know, assertive. I don't think I can tell him off, or make him stop. We should leave it to your father,' she explained.
'It will be too late then. The sports day is tomorrow, and you promised to come along. He will ruin it for me, if something isn't done,' Brendan told her.
'Are you sure?' Alicia asked again, while trying to squirm out of the confrontation.
'It's better to sweet talk him. Bullying him, or being logical won't work. You can't force him to see sense, mom. You are really good at being nice, everyone says so. He will respond to that, you'll see. Just so long as you try, that's all,' he implored her.
He went on at her until she gave in. He was too much like his father, persuasive and effective when arguing. From her he had a soft streak.
'Alright, what do you want me to do?' she asked.
'Just go to his house, to see his parents. They probably don't know what he's like in school. I expect he'll be all sweetness and light at home. Don't worry, just get me a day off,' Brendan pushed.
'I think I could speak to them,' she hesitantly spoke.
At school she had been bullied, so knew what it was like, and of course protecting her son was important. Deep down she was frightened of confrontation. Not wanting to show the fear, she smiled at her son, and grabbed the car keys.
Agreeing to see the young man at home, seemed like a good idea. His parents could be talked to at the same time, or instead of, leaving the awkward and unpleasant job to them. Although she was unused to putting her foot down, this was an opportunity to show some initiative and determination for once.
After all, he was only a boy, so she could deal with him. A lot had happened since high school, and she was an adult now. She was thirty-six, but eighteen years ago, she had been a young mother. Marrying Harold when she was just eighteen had been necessary. It meant she hadn't a chance to gain experience in the real world. Friends envied her cosseted home life, and it had to be admitted, it was nice and pleasant.
'Hello, James,' Alicia said, trying for a smile.
'Hello, Mrs Lucas. Please, come in,' he said, and gave her a pleasant smile.
Before she could continue, James invited her in and led her to the lounge. She was very nervous now. It was a good guess he knew why she was there. He knew her name, probably from Brendon. He seemed nervous of confronting an adult, and that gave her courage.
'Would you like a coffee?' he asked.
Wanting to exercise her new found assertiveness, she said, yes. On the assertiveness course she was learning to say, no, though that didn't occur to her. When he returned her resolve was renewed, and she was ready to tackle him.
'Where are your parents? I need to talk to them,' she firmly spoke.
'Oh!' she gasped in surprise.
Hot coffee was spilt on her dress, and it stung her legs.
'I'm so sorry, Mrs Lucas,' he fussed, keeping her busy with words and action. 'Are you always accident prone?' he casually asked.
'No, I'm sorry, I didn't grasp the mug properly,' she apologised.
He lifted the hem to mop above her knees with a cool cloth. Being shocked and distracted, she didn't wonder why he had a cloth ready. A gasp of surprise when he lifted the dress left her silently objecting, with lips noiselessly flapping
'You'd better take the dress off and I'll rinse it, before it stains,' he firmly told her.
Guiding her to a spare bedroom, she pulled the dress off, and wrapped a towel around herself. She hesitantly handed him the dress while hiding behind the door.
It wasn't until that moment she realised the consequences of letting him take the dress. She was in a stranger's house, in her underwear. She could hardly drive home in bra and panties. The boy had talked her into this, and she wondered if it had been on purpose. Of course it hadn't been, she was being paranoid. What possible reason could he have for a complicated ruse.
'Are you decent?' he asked.
'Just about,' she answered.
The thin shaky voice surprised her, so she cleared her throat. It made no difference.
'I'll show you the utility room,' he stated.
Following him through the house wearing a small towel, left her feeling embarrassed. If his parents walked in now, what would they think? Working out why she had let him take charge, should have been thought through more carefully. Instead she relied on his good manners, as she usually did with everyone.
'You'll need something to wear, while your clothes are washed. Throw the rest in there with the dress, then I'll bring you clothes to wear, until yours are ready,' he firmly stated.
'That's alright, I'll, err, oh, I see,' she stammered.
Her dress had been soaked, then thrown into the washer. It was in a soggy mess, totally un-wearable.
'My dress! Can it be dried?' she asked.
'No, it will take just as long as the wash cycle. Don't you want me to get you some clothes?' he asked.
'I guess, yes, please,' she politely agreed.
'Then take off the rest and throw them in the washer. Mom doesn't have anything that will go over that underwear. I'll get you something, you just need to be quick, before my parents get home. Come on, move it!' he cajoled her.
Mention of his parents worried her. She had to do something, and leaving like this wasn't an option. Not wanting his parents to see her like this, pushed her panic button. She deftly pulled the bra and panties off, without revealing anything. He had his back turned, so she felt he was trying to be decent.
'You know where the spare bedroom is. Wait there while I fetch something for you to wear,' he said, and pushed her in the right direction.
Alicia was shaking with stress when he walked in. Once dressed, she could decide whether to drive home, or face his parents. The boy had been polite and helpful, as her son had expected. At home the bullying had dropped away to leave a nice young man.
He still had that pushy way about him, and she could see him being a bully in school. To some extent she was pleased he'd pushed her into doing the right thing. The new dress and expensive underwear were saved, due to his quick action. It wasn't something she would have volunteered to do, but it was done now.
Yet another anxious look at the door, and this time he walked back in.
'Thank you, James, I appreciate your help,' she nervously spoke.
He turned his back on her, allowing her to change. About to ask him to leave, she thought it better to quickly pull on the clothes, before his parents arrived. First the panties were pulled up, then the dress was quickly pulled over her head. Trying to spread out the panties to cover down there, she found there was nothing to adjust, that was all the material there was.
'Damn! I can't wear this!' she whispered.
The clothes were awful. Not something a decent woman would choose, but then he was just a boy. He probably just grabbed whatever came to hand.
It was either wrap the towel back around her naked body, or keep the dress. The baggy t-shirt was almost long enough to be a very short dress. The thong left her feeling vulnerable.
'Err, James, is this something your mother wears?' she tentatively asked.
'Can I turn around, Alicia,' he asked.
'Yes, but I'm not sure about this, err, dress,' she said.
'It's one of my sisters. I tried looking through mom's wardrobe, but everything will be miles too big,' he politely explained.
He was standing a little too close to her. It was a little intimidating, especially as she felt so naked.
In Alicia's family everyone was short and finely boned. He was tall and muscular. If his mother was as tall and well muscled, he was right about nothing fitting.
'Does your sister have anything else. This is a bit short. Something more, err, comfortable, err, more coverage, please,' she said, trying not to say the obvious.
Would it be obvious to a boy of eighteen that her breasts were too exposed in the loose garment? If she weren't careful, they would fall out the large arm holes, one side or the other. It was a balancing act. Of course, his younger sister wouldn't have this problem.
'I think you look cute, Alicia. I didn't want to give you something new, as she would go ballistic when she gets home. This is something she used to wear.' he informed her.
'I see. Well, I understand. Perhaps another t-shirt could be found, to wear under this?' she timidly asked.
He put his large paws on her shoulders, gripping them tight, and smiled at her. Being in his hands, she felt very nervous, almost afraid. Wanting to suggest something else to wear, she tried to imagine what a modern girl had in her wardrobe. She licked her lips, and tried to say something. Whatever it was, the idea escaped her. Anyway, her throat was too dry to speak.
'It's only until your clothes are washed and dried. Surely it doesn't matter what you wear. No one will see you, so no problem. Will they need ironing?' he cheerfully asked.
'I guess you're right. That's alright, I won't bother ironing,' she said, on a whispery voice.
'Well, I think you look young and cute, in my sister's old clothes,' he smiled.
'I'm a thirty-six year old woman, err, I err, no longer do cute,' she quietly spoke.
The attempt at reminding him she was a mature woman, an adult, didn't seem to impress him.
'I don't believe your thirty-six. You look much younger. It's your pale clear skin, and you're short, that's what does it. You look real cute,' he said, and gently shook her.
Being manhandled by a boy didn't seem right. Pushing him away, meant letting go of her breasts, and letting them fall out the sides of the dress.
A chant from school came to mind about, finders, keepers. The sudden stupid idea sprang to mind, that if he found her breasts, he could keep them. An image of him mauling her breasts made her choke. He was grinning at her, telling her he found them hanging loose, so they were now his to keep. He owned them, so he could do whatever he wanted with them.
The nonsense was a sign of something. Panic? Hysteria?
