"Can anyone find a space?" Sam leaned across the steering wheel to scan the rows of parking bays, finding nothing but a sea of cars occupying each space. "I knew this place was going to be packed, but this is ridiculous."
"There! There!" Ryan pointed frantically, shoving himself between the gap of the two front seats. "You've got a Volkswagen pulling out near the gate! Gun it before one of the guys behind us decides he's had enough of driving around."
Sam did exactly that, giving his old Saturn more gas than he ordinarily would in such a cramped environment, staring at the car following closely behind with suspicion. The Volkswagen rolled away from the bay, emitting a black plume as it lined up with the road and departed. Seizing his moment, Sam slammed down on the pedal, spotting the car behind in his wing mirror attempting to overtake him. Unwilling to yield after such a long search, Sam blocked its path and raced over to the open space, showing off his skill behind the wheel by swinging in a single attempt.
"What an asshole!" Robert rolled down the passenger's side window and flipped the bird at the driver of the offending vehicle, smirking when he received a similar response. "People can turn into such maniacs over parking spaces. Did you see how close he came to hitting your bumper?"
"It wouldn't have made much difference," Sam shrugged, pulling his key out of the ignition, flipping the sun visor down so he could use the inconveniently small mirror to give himself one last inspection. "This thing has been on its last legs for a while now; a dent here and a bump there isn't going to make much of a difference."
"You can say that again," Ryan looked down at his black shirt, debating whether to leave it completely buttoned up or loosen the top two buttons for a more casual look. "I've seen junkyard clunkers that were in better shape than this heap. Why don't you get rid of it and buy something that doesn't look like it's one wrong gear change away from spitting out the exhaust system?"
"Because not all of us have parents who think it's wise to blow twenty-thousand dollars on a new car for someone who can barely parallel park without scraping the curb," Sam countered, pulling the key out of the ignition, clenching his eyes shut when the engine gave a disturbing rumble before shutting off. "Besides, this baby is a classic."
"You have a strange idea of what 'classic' means," Robert shook his head when he tried to open the passenger's side door, listening to the handle rattle around. He resorted to barging his shoulder against the door card, doing so until the door gave way and opened with a concerning creak. "Classic? Not on your life. Death trap? You betcha."
Sam took the insults on the chin, not wanting to admit that he agreed with his friends. It was far from his idea of an appealing first car; most of its features either didn't work or performed so poorly that it was pointless to use them at all. The upholstery sported more duct tape than its original faux leather, and the railings for the seats themselves were so heavily rusted that Sam didn't dare to try and slide them back out of fear of being sent flying backward.
Yet, as much of a heap as it was, it was still something he was proud of. His mom and dad had kindly offered to buy him something substantially more reliable for his eighteenth birthday, acquired from a reputable second-hand dealership. It was an offer that sorely tempted him, one he was close to agreeing to, but he turned it down in favour of striking out on his own. Using the money from his meager paycheck he received working in the backroom of a local grocery store, Sam scanned the online marketplace for something within his price range.
It took some searching before Sam could find a car he could afford that wasn't being sold off for its parts or ready for a one-way trip to the scrap pile. After weeks of daily visits to the online auction houses, Sam eventually came upon the Saturn, going for an initial bid so low that he put in his offer without a second thought. With hindsight, Sam knew he should have been more suspicious about the lack of any other bidders.
His mother, Isabella, had agreed to drive him up to the auction house to collect his 'bargain' deal, wanting him to experience the moment he picked up the keys to his first-ever car. Excitement about the milestone instantly fizzled out when they found themselves standing in front of the car, both expecting it to collapse into a pile of bolts and sheet metal. Initially, his mother refused to allow him to drive the clunker off the lot, unwilling to let her son set foot in a vehicle that was an accident waiting to happen. After negotiating with the owners of the auction house, Sam's mom worked out a deal to take the car if it was towed back for free instead of being driven, an offer they gladly took her up on if it meant being rid of the waste of space.
Isabella Paulson wasn't a woman to be trifled with, possessing a bottomless pool of determination that she was never reluctant to put to good use, especially when it came to Sam. She worked as an executive for one of the largest marketing firms in the state, having risen through the ranks due to her persuasive and naturally charming nature, aiding her in hashing out lucrative contracts with the corporations and media companies looking to improve or rehabilitate their images among the public. There was nothing false about her, which proved to be a vital asset when it came to negotiating with individuals who were as straight to the point as she was.
It certainly didn't hurt that she was an absolute knockout. For as long as Sam could remember, his mom had always attracted attention whenever she went, the beauty she had inherited from her Italian mother ensured that she could stand out from any crowd. She possessed a head of long, silky blonde hair, which was beautifully complimented by her dusky skin and dazzling brown eyes. Approaching forty proved to have no adverse effect on her stunning looks, her firm body and curvaceous legs remained as striking as they had been in her youth.
It was hard for Sam to not notice how attractive his mom was, something that became a constant reminder for him after entering high school. Every play she attended, every sporting event she cheered Sam on at, every appearance in the principal's office -- usually the result of getting into a fight over a comment about his mom that crossed a line. It was rare for himnto not catch someone in the process of checking her out.
Over time, the embarrassment he felt about his mom's effortless and unintentional ability to become the center of attention faded. He didn't blame her for it in the least, knowing there was little to nothing she could do to stop it beyond covering herself up from head to toe. It was as much a burden as it was an asset, a fact of life that she had to navigate on a daily basis, and she did so without an ounce of hesitation. Sam was one of the few that could see beyond her appearance and admire her wit, her loving nature, and the infectious smile that could always drag him out of a dark mood.
However, that wasn't to say that he wasn't guilty of his own fair share of gawking, a compulsion that only worsened when puberty kicked in and opened his eyes to the world of feminine allure. As was standard for boys navigating the complexities of school life and raging hormones, every woman in his life became a feature in his lustful fantasies in some way. He wasn't quite sure when his attention moved from the girls around school and certain teachers and turned to his mom instead.
It started innocently enough, taking slightly more interest in the clothes she wore to work and during her days off, noticing how her silk blouses hugged her tiny waist, following her pencil skirts as they rolled across her hips, heart-shaped rear and along her tanned thighs. He always tried to convince himself that his observations were limited to the form-fitting outfits she wore, that it had nothing to do with with the woman wearing them.
But it became apparent rather quickly that his attraction had less to do with her taste in fashion and more to do with his mom. Over time, he started to notice little details about her that he'd never taken the time to pick up on before. Her big brown eyes were framed by long, dark lashes. Soft, kissable lips were flanked by dimples that accentuated her enchanting smile, high cheekbones provided her with an almost aristocratic appearance. Sam's father always considered himself a lucky man for snagging such a bombshell, and Sam was inclined to agree.
