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It was the last thing I felt like doing but mom being mom I knew I'd better. I waited a bit but then I pushed up from the chair, gather some empties and plates and wandered towards the kitchen.
Plates went into the dishwasher and empties to the recycling. I was bent over dumping the empties when she came back in.
It took a couple of seconds to realize that the flowing white dress with the big yellow flowers had been replaced by pink shorts and a tee. On her feet were two inch heeled plastic sandals.
Relaxed by the beer I saw the shorts were a little tight and showed off her ass in a way I'd never noticed before. Perfectly shaped and peach-like, outlined by the tiny panties that were obvious, with the zipper at the back highlighting and accentuating the hint of a valley between her two cheeks. The white tee was stretched tight across her smallish breasts, again highlighting femininity. She was obviously bra less and I'd never looked at my Mom or noticed her in this way in the past. Sure, on some mornings I'd seen her in a petticoat over her bra, panties and stockings before she slipped on a skirt, blouse and jacket as she got ready for work. That had never made a real impact but today she did.
What I'd seen on those previous mornings left me oblivious because the self-centered arrogance of youth precluded acknowledgment of any physical or sexual attributes of a parent. She was my Mom and that was that.
But in the kitchen on that hot summer Saturday there was a difference. In front of me was an attractive woman, dressed to show herself to perfection with more than just a little erotic hint.
"Ian," she said looking up from the sink directly at me, "would you do me a favor?"
"Sure. What?"
"When your friends are over, ask them to use the bathroom."
"What do you mean?"
"You know exactly what I mean. If they want to go to the bathroom then that's where they can go and not on the edge of the lemon tree."
"Oh," I said. "You saw?"