M. DeSantis

Her Foxy Mom

Chapter 1

Her mother's bedroom door was closed and Charlene could hear nothing from behind it. As she'd hoped. Either her mother was still out or she was sleeping.

Either way, the last thing Charlene wanted at that moment was a hassle for being out late on a school night with a bonus lecture thrown in regarding the need to apply herself with finals coming up so soon.

Shoes in hand, Charlene crept quietly up the stairs to the second floor of the big duplex apartment. Even with her mother's generous salary, they wouldn't have been able to afford the plush, spacious apartment on East 35th Street without her father's large alimony and child-support payment each month. Her parents had divorced twelve years before, when she was five.

The carpeting was soft, her bare toes sinking in. Charlene was always exceptionally aware of tactile sensations. She was even more so on that night.

Why did he stop? The words were a wail of frustration and protest inside her head.

She passed the closed door of her mother's study and slipped into her own room, closing the door behind her and dropping her shoes negligently on the bed.

Is there something wrong with me? She turned, facing the fulllength mirror on the back of her door and examined her reflection, even though she knew it wasn't anything about her that had put him off, that had stopped him, just when his hand on her pussy was on the verge of bringing her off.

Her eyes flickered over the young girl in the mirror. She was an attractive girl, a beautiful girl, in fact. Every time she walked down a street, she could feel the eyes of men on her. Men old enough to be her father turned their heads to watch her and walked into the sides of parked cars.

The girl in the mirror was only five-foot-six, but somehow gave the impression of being much taller. She had titian hair, that rare color combining all the finest elements of red and brown. Her hair was rich and lush and full and straight, falling long and sensuously down her back almost to her ass. Her complexion was that special complexion unique to redheads, almost translucent and yet somehow with a touch of dusk in it. Most people only get to see that complexion once in a lifetime. If they're exceptionally fortunate and all the karma is right, twice. No more. Her hair and complexion were a wild card, having come obviously from neither her auburn-haired mother nor her nordic, blond-maned father.