Author’s Note: Neither The Palm nor Abercrombie & Fitch have a presence at Northbrook anymore, and Abercrombie & Fitch does not presently carry the product line discussed in this story. But all of those things were present when this story was originally written, and I couldn’t find a way to update the story to reflect the present yet still keep those or similar elements. As such, you’ll have to suspend reality a bit for this one, which I know is unusual with my stories (eye-rolls).

“Come on, Matt,” Marni whined. “You still have an hour left before you’re done. Just go in back and get a stack of each and put ‘em on the floor. By the time that’s done, your shift will be almost over.”

Matt turned and walked away from her without saying a word. He hated this job. He had just finished his sophomore year in high school and obtained his driver’s license, and his parents made him get a job for the summer. Abercrombie & Fitch was it. It was ridiculous. He barely made any money, and he had to wear the store’s clothes to boot. His parents paid for some of his clothes but it was still a wash as far as he was concerned. At the end of the day, he probably spent more on clothes than he made.

And Marni, the bubble-headed assistant store manager, was always riding his ass. “Do this.” “Don’t do that.”

“How about this Marni: shut the fuck up!”

Matt shuffled into the storage room to grab a few stacks of tee shirts. “College tee-shirts? That’s what they call these things? Like any self-respecting college kid would wear this stuff.”

He piled two stacks of the shirts onto his arms and carried them out to the sales floor, arranging them according to the almighty chart that Marni toted around all day, and returned to the storage room for a few more stacks.

Northbrook Court was tired and starting to look run down, but Olivia Freeman found it convenient, much more so than Old Orchard. Shoot down Green Bay Road to Lake-Cook, then west a few miles, over the Edens Expressway, and there you were. Ten minutes, at the most.

Last Tuesday, however, Olivia gave herself more than ten minutes; more like two hours. That gave her enough time to stop into Forever 21 for a hoodie her daughter wanted, walk down to Tommy Bahama for a few pair of shorts for her husband, jump across to Lululemon for a few pair of leggings and a top for herself, and then scoot into Neiman Marcus to retrieve a new Louis Vuitton handbag she’d ordered.

Oliva had just enough time to get back to The Palm, the venerable steakhouse, where she met Rebecca Sussman and Wendy Jackson, two of her best childhood friends, for a late lunch. Marie Carpelli and Heather Bannister would normally have joined them, but the Carpellis were on vacation and Heather had scheduled a tennis match at the club.

A few shared sushi rolls and two-and-a-half bottles of a Cakebread chardonnay later, she was loading her arms up with bags, wishing her friends well, and walking back through the mall and toward the lot at the other end of the mall where she had parked her car.

The thought of her car made her frown. It wasn’t a car anymore. The thought of driving the monstrosity killed her inside. With four kids now in junior high and early high school, her husband Bob finally convinced her that she had to ditch the svelte little Porsche SUV in favor of a full-size Escalade. She had lobbied hard for something less obscenely large, a Mercedes GLS or maybe the X7. But in the end, though, those choices didn’t fit the reality of the Freeman’s current needs. Still, she wasn’t happy and her slightly intoxicated state caused her to brood.

Music floated into Olivia’s ear, pulling her from her self-pity party. She looked towards its source, the Abercrombie & Fitch store where her two eldest kids boys both of them spent so much money. Thinking she’d stop in and see if any sales were on, she veered from her intended path and entered the store.

“How are you today?” a little bimbo inquired, all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. A tee shirt two sizes too small hugged modest breasts and a ponytail bobbed behind her.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Olivia responded, barely paying attention to the little girl.

“Can I help you find anything, ma’am?”

Olivia almost stopped and informed the stupid little thing that women who haven’t started to go gray yet do not appreciate being called “ma’am.” Instead, she said over her shoulder, “No, thanks. I’ll just look around for a while.”

Matt was leaning over a display table folding tee shirts when the crack of Olivia’s heels caught his attention. He glanced at her, intending to do so quickly, but his gaze was riveted to her striking beauty. She moved slowly among the various display tables, a long cherry red nail occasionally brushing her lustrous blond hair behind an ear. High, aristocratic cheekbones, slightly flushed from her intake of chardonnay, bookended a thin, elegant nose. With her tanned flesh, she made quite a glamorous sight.

After a moment, Matt returned to his duties, stacking the remaining tee shirts on the display table. Finished, he looked around and found her standing before a table covered with stacks of chinos in various shades. She held a pair unfolded before her as if judging whether they would fit her frame. They clearly wouldn’t.

“Not for you, I’m guessing?”

Olivia lowered the pants from in front of her face. She gave the sixteen-year-old rocket scientist a wry smile accompanied by a shake of the head. “Not exactly.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

“Not just yet, thank you.”

“Well, just holler if you need me.”

Matt sauntered off, slowly making his way toward the storeroom for another stack of tee shirts, Olivia admiring his firm butt as he went.

He was back at the tee shirt table arranging his latest load when, over his shoulder, he heard, “‘I Mow Your Mom’s Lawn’?”

He turned to see her standing over his shoulder, her perfume wafting through his nostrils. A look of inquiry dominated Olivia’s luminous emerald eyes as she eyed the phrase across the front of the tee shirt he was folding. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I dunno. It’s just a tee shirt. They call it a College Tee Shirt.”

“Who does?” she asked, moving to his side and lifting another shirt from the table. ‘I Support The Performing Arts,’ it read.

“The store.”

“Hmph. I’ve never seen any college kids with tee shirts like these.”

“Me neither.” Matt leaned closer to her and, in a stage whisper, continued. “Personally, I think they’re ridiculous. You wouldn’t catch me dead in something like that.”

Olivia’s glossy red lips formed a conspiratorial smirk. She leaned closer to him, her full breasts pressing against his bare arm, the light cashmere of her pastel cardigan so soft against his bare flesh. She reached across his chest and picked another tee shirt from the table, holding it before them. “‘Your Mom Never Gets Old.’ I’m sensing a theme here.”

Below a lightly plucked and knowingly arched eyebrow, her gleaming eyes locked on Matt’s before she dropped the shirt unceremoniously to the table, turned on her heel, and wandered off.

Matt stared after her, his eyes locked on her butt wrapped in bright white capri pants. His cock stirred but he shook the image from his mind and returned to his duties, re-folding the tee shirts that Olivia had held up for inspection.

“Jesus, Matt,” came an exasperated whine. “What are you doing? You’re just screwing around.”

He turned to see Marni approaching.

“Come on, Matt,” she pleaded. “You only have forty-five minutes before you have to clock out.” She had had enough. “Just go work the cash register for the rest of your shift.”

Fifteen minutes later, Matt stood behind the counter straightening the supplies and waiting for the next customer when Olivia approached. She dropped two pairs of pants and one of the College Tee-Shirts on the counter and leaned against it on her elbows, her breasts pushing together and swelling from her cardigan. A flirtatious smile formed across her shiny lips as Matt rang up the first pair of pants.

“You know you have two different size pants, ma’am?” he inquired absently when ringing the second pair.

Olivia sighed and rolled her pretty eyes. “First of all, I’m not a ‘ma’am.’ Try ‘miss.’ You’ll find it works much better with women who haven’t hit menopause yet.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, reaching for the tee shirt.

“And second, yes, I know I’m buying pants of different sizes. That’s because I’m buying one pair for my oldest son,” she intoned, holding up one pair, “and another for my other son,” she finished, holding up the other.

“Of course miss. I’m sorry.” Matt rang the tee shirt as Olivia rummaged through her shoulder bag looking for her credit card. The bag’s strap draped across her torso, running between her breasts, emphasizing what needn’t be emphasized. When she found her card, she handed it to Matt, dragging her bright red nails across the innocent flesh of his palm as she withdrew her hand.

With a shiver, Matt read the name on the card before inserting it into the machine. He began folding the tee shirt. His composure somewhat regained, he shook his head when he read the message emblazoned across the front of it: ‘I Mow Your Mom’s Lawn.’

“What?” Olivia asked.

“I told you,” he began in a light tone, “your son’s gonna hate this thing. No self-respecting kid would wear it.”

“Really?” she said, confident that the kid was wrong. ÒHow would you know? Are you even in college yet?”

Matt shook his head, then shrugged. ÒDoesn’t matter. I’m just sayin’ he’s gonna hate it.”

Olivia paused and a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth “Well, let me tell you, then. It’s not for one of my sons.”

He merely rolled his eyes as he slipped the pants into an A&F bag. “Right. Who’s it for, then? Your daughter?” he scoffed, eying the Forever 21 bag.

Olivia leaned closer to the teenager, her long blond locks sweeping across the counter. Silently, she mouthed, “It’s for you.”

Matt furrowed his brow, not reading her glossy lips much less understanding the import of her message.

“It’s for you,” she whispered, smiling brazenly at the kid with wet ink still on his driver’s license.

Matt was taken aback. His mind raced to form some sort of retort but ultimately failed.

“How late do you work?” she asked, her chin resting in the palm of her left hand. Her cherry red nails gleamed and the diamond of her engagement ring sparkled in the store’s indirect lighting.

“Um,” he stumbled.

Olivia sensed his anxiety and rephrased the question. “What time do you get off?” The double entendre slipped from the woman’s as smooth as honey.

He looked around the store, then back at the gorgeous women standing before him, then at his watch. “Uh. I get uh, half-an-hour.” Nervously, Matt pulled the credit card receipt from the machine and slid it, the card, and a pen toward her.

The pen gripped lightly between her manicured nails, her attention focused on the receipt, she said, “Fine. I’ll be in the bar at the Palm.” Looking up, she slid the receipt back to Matt with a bright smile on her tanned face before hoisting the bag with the others. “That is, if you want to mow my lawn.”

With a smirk, Olivia turned on her heel and walked off, the clickety-clack of her heels and the swaying of her hips tempting sin.

Matt stood there speechless for a moment, his cock twitching in his pants. Then he tried to make himself look busy straightening up the area around the cash register, but he was just moving things around, his mind racing. Butterflies fluttered around his stomach as he rang up a few customers during his remaining time on the clock.

Outside Abercrombie & Fitch, Olivia turned and window-shopped her way back to The Palm. Ensuring that her friends had left she had no desire, of course, to explain to them why a sixteen-year-old boy was meeting her in the bar she took a seat on one of the stools and ordered a bourbon on the rocks.

After the bartender set it before her, ten minutes passed at the lowball was empty. She glanced at her watch. FIVE MINUTES, she thought to herself, signaling the bartender for another.

Olivia’s nipples swelled in her bra. Random, mid-day assignations were not foreign to her. She had married young, right out of college, and was pregnant, she often joked, before she and Bob had even left for their honeymoon. Though prone to infidelity when she and her husband were still dating in college, she had remained faithful to him during the first decade of their marriage.

The second decade, thus far, was a different story altogether. There was nothing unique about her motivations limited sexual experiences before marriage; validation of her ability to attract men as her thirties slid by; the general boredom of the stay-at-home mom.

Nonetheless, the incidence of her infidelity was fairly low once or twice a year but her daydreaming was much more frequent. And lately, her fantasizing, with a hand shoved down her panties, had been leading her to younger and younger men. The messages plastered across the front of Abercrombie & Fitch’s College Tee Shirts triggered that predatorial desire.

Matt if for no reason other than that he was simply there was to be her prey.

At the top of the hour, Marni relieved Matt at the cash register and he went to the storeroom to clock out for the day. He left the store and paused just outside it. If he went in one direction, he would be in his car and on Lake-Cook Road in a matter of minutes. If he went in the other Olivia Freeman.

A few minutes later, he found himself approaching The Palm, his stomach churning, his knees weak, palms sweaty.

Olivia glanced at her watch again.

She dropped a pair of twenties on the bar and collected her bags. She got herself balanced and was moving toward the door when Matt walked in. The nervousness was apparent in his demeanor. She smiled inwardly: the kid recognized he was being hunted.

As the two approached each other, Olivia pretended not to notice him and breezed right on by, her shimmering flaxen hair flowing behind her.

“Follow me,” she muttered under her breath as she passed.

Matt stopped in his tracks, momentarily confused, but turned and followed her. He caught up to her about twenty yards outside the restaurant.

“Walk behind me,” she ordered, as though she were Queen Nefertiti. “We can’t be seen together.”

Matt dropped back a few paces and, through his anxiety, admired her swinging bottom. He followed her through the mall, the rhythmic clacking of her heels nearly mesmerizing him, toward the exit where she’d parked. Out in the summer heat, Olivia crossed the inner access road and stopped ten cars in at the rear of a black Escalade. She set her bags on the ground, fumbled around her flap bag, and extracted a set of keys, all the while remaining silent. She pressed a button on the key fob and the rear hatch opened on its own.

Matt helped her place the bags in the rear of the truck, stacking them atop two hockey bags, another bag with a lacrosse stick strapped to it, and a partially deflated soccer ball.

Olivia closed the hatch and moved to the driver’s door, throwing a “Get in” over her shoulder to the confused teen.

As she settled herself in the driver’s seat, the passenger door opened. Starting the engine, she leaned over the console and gave the teenager a wan smile. ÒNo in the back.”

Matt paused for a moment, his confusion continuing, but he shrugged his shoulders, shut the front door, and climbed into the back of the SUV. He settled onto one of the two captain’s chairs and pulled the door shut, sealing the truck’s cabin in silence.

Olivia put the Escalade in reverse, backed out of the stall, and drove slowly toward the outer access road. She stole a glance through the rearview mirror at Matt in the backseat. “Oh, God,’ she thought, shuffling her thighs, “I am going to rock this kid’s world!”

She paused at the outer access road and, after looking both ways, crossed it, rolling into a remote parking lot.

“What’s your name?” she inquired, eyeing him again in the rearview mirror.

“Uh Matt.”

“Well, Matt,” she began, “I think it’s time for you to leave the teenyboppers behind.”

She brought the SUV to a stop and put the transmission in park. Leaving it running, she turned to face him; the twisting of her body accentuated her large breasts.

“It’s been several months since I indulged in young cock and today’s your lucky day,” she declared, her voice low and sultry and dripping with lust at the thought of having this sixteen-year-old at her beck and call. “How does that strike you?”

Olivia delighted in the sharp intake of the kid’s breath as the wicked words tumbled across her glossy lips.

Without waiting for his response, she slipped from the SUV and climbed back in through the back door. She crawled across the rear floor and knelt before him, her long slender fingers bracing herself against his young thighs. A soccer cleat dug into her left knee as she leaned into the wide-eyed teenager.

Matt looked around, nervous that someone might see them. Olivia lifted a bright red nail beneath his chin and guided his gaze back toward her. “I’m right here, sweetheart,” she reminded him gently before brushing her soft full lips against his.

Matt quaked and inhaled deeply as Olivia’s pink tongue flickered out and teased his lips, slipping into his mouth. He tasted the wine and bourbon on her breath as he tried to catch his own.

His eyes eased closed as her hot, wet tongue invaded his mouth, the scent of her perfume overwhelming. A manicured hand roamed down his chest, tracing over his pectoral muscles, pausing momentarily to tweak his flat nipples.

Olivia’s lush lips and slithering tongue pulled back from Matt’s mouth and she planted light kisses along his jawline, crossing to his ear. She gently blew hot breath as her hand dropped to the waistband of his pants. “Um,” he began, his young body shuddering.

“Shut up,” she whispered hotly into his ear, sending shivers up his spine. “You’re not here to talk. You’re here to fuck.” She bit hard on the last word before taking Matt’s earlobe between her full lips and sucking it hard between her snow-white teeth.

Olivia pulled Matt’s shirt from his pants and pushed it up and out of her way. With a thumb and forefinger, she roughly pulled his belt from its buckle, ripped the button from its hole, and tore open the zipper, careful not to chip her nails.

Matt groaned as her soft fingers raided his boxers and freed his thickening cock.

Olivia bent and licked around one of his nipples as her manicured hand encircled the thick, teenage cock, stroking it. She lifted her head to look around. No cars were approaching, no people were on foot.

“Mmm,” she muttered, dipping her head again toward the erect shaft quivering in her hand. She blew hot breath across the broad head before swiping her wet tongue across the spongy flesh, capturing a drop of pre-cum as it threatened to streak down the length of his shaft.

The cum sat on her tongue for a moment before she pressed it against the roof of her mouth and swallowed. Her hand remained firmly around Matt’s cock, gently tugging, her eyes locked on the veiny, pulsing shaft and the flared crown. Her focus was singular.

After a moment, she tore her sparkling emerald eyes from the trembling mass and found Matt staring back at her. A lascivious smile parted her full lips. “I cannot tell you,” she began, “how long I’ve been waiting for this.” Her fist still pulling gently at his shaft, she again swiped her tongue across the swollen crown.

“Hmm?” he moaned in response.

“Young cock,” she answered. “Young thick high school cock.”

With her free hand, Olivia reached below her and pushed Matt’s shoes from his feet. She tugged at his pants and, when he lifted his ass from the leather seat, pulled them down over his knees and off his feet. Planting light kisses along the inner thigh of his left leg, she pushed his left leg up and to the side so that it hung over the arm of the captain’s chair.

“Oh, God,” she muttered before burying her face between the teenager’s smooth thighs, her flaxen hair whispering across his flesh as her silky tongue found his hanging balls. She bathed them in saliva while her hand continued to jerk at Matt’s stiff cock. The metal links of her watchband clinked together in time with her stroking, providing the only sound inside the cabin of the Cadillac.

Above her, Matt groaned with delight. His mouth was dry and he struggled to swallow when Olivia sucked one of his silky balls into her mouth. He clenched his fists beside him, his knuckles turning white.

Olivia pushed the testicle from her mouth and released the teen’s throbbing shaft. It fell to his thigh with an audible plop as she grabbed his trim waist in both hands, pulling his ass closer to the edge of the seat.