Help Me Ma! by lexlogan8

Help Me Ma! by lexlogan8,

Virginia Mason felt worn out. She was a cashier at a grocery store which didn’t believe in letting its workers sit down. And it didn’t call them workers, they were ‘associates’, as if they spent their shifts associating rather than working their butts off.

She didn’t mind the work, really, except like today when some jerk went off because they were out of the specific brand, flavor and size of potato chips he preferred, as if Ginny did the ordering and stocked the shelves, too. She offered him a free bag of another brand and he just went on a tirade. Seemed like something like that happened two or three times a week. That’s what wore her out.

Most guys liked to flirt with her. She was short and cute, 5’2 with big blue eyes, a pretty smile, long brown hair and a curvy, hourglass figure; not many guessed she was already thirty-six years old. She always felt a thrill when a good-looking guy complimented her or just smiled, but she resolutely avoided dating. She still felt hurt and forlorn when she remembered the married bastard that had knocked her up all those years ago and left her to raise her son Malcolm on her own. Well, she was glad to get Malcolm out of the deal, anyway, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust another man.

She entered the small house they rented and as she hung up her coat Malcolm sang out, “Ma! What’s for dinner?”

She bit back the urge to scream, Why don’t you learn to cook! Really, she loved her son but he’d graduated from high school a year and a half ago, didn’t have a job, didn’t want to go to college, and didn’t lift a finger around the house unless she badgered him so much to do the slightest thing…well, it just wasn’t worth getting into it with him.

“Let me see what we have, dear.” She checked the fridge and freezer, decided she could broil some pork chops and bake some oven fries. Let’s see, squash, zucchini, tomatoes, onions — she could make their favorite veggie dish. Vanilla ice cream and fresh peaches for desert.

While she began preparations Malcolm wandered into the kitchen. “I need a new game system, Ma. Joey has a new game and we can’t play it over here.”

“Oh, my honey, what would that cost? Money’s pretty tight right now. And we just had Christmas two weeks ago!”

“We can get it on special for just five hundred dollars.”

“Five hundred! Might as well be five thousand, honey.”

“Money’s always tight. You need a better job, Ma.”

“I know, dear. I sure wish you could get a job.”

“I don’t do well in interviews. I’ve tried.”

Ginny patted his cheek. “I know dear, I was just wishing, didn’t mean to criticize.”

Now, in truth, if anyone had hired Malcolm they would’ve found him to be a solid, reliable worker. He’d applied everywhere the summer after he graduated, but the economy had been in a recession and Malcolm did not, in fact, impress anyone during an interview. And as far as he was concerned, work was something his mom did.

“You could get a job at Go-Go-Gold.”

“A strip club! I can’t do that, honey!”

“Your so pretty and all my friends all think you’re hot!”

“You talk to your friends about me that way?!” She knew she should be outraged but instead felt a warm feeling spread over her and a blush tinged her face and neck.

“Nothing to be ashamed of, Ma. You’re the best looking mother in the world!” Her blush deepened, her pussy tingled and her nipples got hard. Really, she shouldn’t let him talk to her that way but she was enjoying it too much to complain — not that her complaining ever had much effect on what Malcolm did.

“I’ll fill out an application for you. You’re off tomorrow, you can go talk to them. You wouldn’t have to be a stripper, I’m sure they’d love to have you as a waitress.”

“Malcolm! I just couldn’t!”

“Just talk to them, Ma. I’ll do the app while you fix dinner.” He left the room. Really, this was getting out of hand! He was an adult, true, but she was the breadwinner and housekeeper and…and..he just shouldn’t be telling her what to do! But he always wore her down. Maybe she could throw away the application and say she didn’t get the job.

But Malcolm filled out an online application, and attached a recent picture of her when she dressed up for a friend’s thirty-fifth birthday. Her above the knee, light green dress showed off her shapely legs and hourglass figure without looking slutty. Actually, he’d thought about getting her to wear something sexier but decided that could wait. Just thinking about it got him hard.

At dinner Malcolm wolfed down about three times as much food as her, then said “Thanks, Ma. How was work today?”

She recounted the chip brouhaha and he said, “What a jerk. You really need a better job.”

That reminded her of the strip club. The thought of being ogled by who knows how many men while she wore skimpy outfits both thrilled and terrified her. “Um, thanks, dear, it’s not usually that bad, keeps a roof over our head, right?”

“Yeah, but we can’t afford anything fun!” That was absurd, she paid for his video games, laser tag, super-hero movie tickets, Netflix and Disney subscriptions, road trips (usually to a game convention or live role-play event), but it distressed her to disappoint him.

The next day after lunch Malcolm said, “Time to dress for your interview!”

“Interview? What are you talking about?”

“Your job interview. At Go-Go-Gold.”

“Oh honey, you don’t really mean for me…”

“Come on, Ma. At least find out what they pay. Let’s look in your closet.”

She followed him back to her room. He went to her closet and pawed through her dresses. She didn’t have much, but he found a little black number he’d never seen her wear.

“Put this on.”

“Malcom! I haven’t worn that in years! I doubt I can squeeze into it!”

“All the better. Put it on.” He handed her the dress and stepped out to the hall. He’d really prefer to watch her. After several minutes he cracked open the door. “Ready, Ma?”

“Come zip me up.” He opened the door all the way and drank in the view of her bare back and the dress hugging her spectacular rump. He was rock hard as he struggled with the zipper; she took in a deep breath and he was finally able to zip it up.

When he let go she pirouetted toward him. “How do I look?” The dress emphasized her deep cleavage, narrow waist and flaring hips; a slit up one thigh gave a hint of pale, lacy underwear.

“Fantastic, Ma! Now fix your hair and makeup while I pick out some shoes.” He went to her other closet and zeroed in on a pair of silver, open-toed pumps with four-inch heels; those seemed to be the sexiest she had. He handed them to her when she finished her makeup; she rummaged in her nylon drawer for some sheer black pantyhose. She sat on the edge of the bed, looked at Malcolm and said, “A little privacy, dear?”

“No, I want to watch. You keep looking better and better!”

She gave a bit of a snort but couldn’t help smiling while she pulled the nylons up her legs and wriggled into the attached panties. Malcom knelt in front of her and ran his hands up and down her legs. “Wow! These look and feel wonderful!” His touch made her shiver. He picked up the pumps and slipped them on her feet. She felt all tingly from his attentions.

She looked at her son: 5’8, long, dark brown pony tail, mustache, no beard but always a shadow, blue eyes, handsome she’d always thought, slender. Despite spending most of his time playing video games or on the computer he seemed to be able to eat voraciously without gaining any weight — he was full of nervous energy.

He’d never dated or even kissed a girl as far as she knew. There used to be a girl, Molly, among his friends but she alone of the group went on to college, which didn’t fit with their Friday game schedule. The rest of the group, five guys, all had jobs that involved working Saturdays and Sundays but allowed them to have most Fridays off.

Did Malcolm like girls? Ginny thought so; when he was younger he sometimes commented on how pretty certain actresses were. (In fact, Malcolm watched porn online when Ginny was at work or asleep. He’d never had much interest in the few girls he’d been around in high school — none of them could hold a candle to the movie stars or porn queens he liked to watch or even his mother. He rubbed himself off against a pillow most nights.)

Malcolm broke into her musings with “All ready? I’ll drive you.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary, dear.”

“I want to, Ma. Let’s go!” He wasn’t going to let her chicken out. They drove to the club and he dropped her at the door; being under 21 he couldn’t walk her in. “I’ll wait in the lot, Ma. Go on, you look great!”

She took in a nervous breath and entered. A very large man with an anchor tattoo on one arm and a heart on the other asked her, “Job interview? Down the hall, third door on the left.”

“Thank you.” She walked none too quickly; the man enjoyed the view.

She entered the office. A middle-aged, balding guy with a slight paunch looked up from his computer. “Ms. Mason?”

“Yes.” He gave her an appraising look, head to toes and back.

“Have a seat, I’m Frank Morris. You’ve had some experience waitressing?”

“A lot of years ago but I was pretty good at it.”

“Any dancing?”

“I’m not, I mean, I’m only interested in waitressing.”

“But on your application you said any position…”

“I changed my mind. Just waitressing.” She was embarrassed and a bit put out with her son for putting her in this position but she wasn’t going to admit he’d filled out the application.

“Well, we can come back to that later.” A chill followed quickly by a heat flash swept though her. He smiled at her blush.

“Tell you what, I’ve got a girl out sick, can you work Tuesday and Thursday nights? Seven to eleven? We stay open later than that but the crowd thins out late during the week.”

“Yes, that would be fine.”

“Here’s some forms, fill them out and leave them with me. You can use that table over there.”

While Ginny was busy with that Malcolm, waiting in the parking lot, used his phone to order several web cams and associated equipment. If his sexy mom was going to be showing off her hot body in skimpy outfits he wanted to catch her on video, including dressing and undressing.