She held her hand over the vent, and even though she could feel the frigid air blasting her, Melinda still felt like she was burning up. It was a hot day, that was true, but the inside of her truck should have made her feel like a slab of meat inside a meat locker it was so cold. She peered over at her son again and saw goosebumps sprouting from his tanned arms and legs. The cute sixteen-year-old shivered.

"Are you OK?" she asked.

Isaac pointed at the road, but she was still fidgeting with the vent and the truck swerved.

"Mom!"

Melinda put both hands on the wheel and smiled as best she could. "What? Oh, yeah, everything's fine—I'm just hot, that's all. It's over a hundred today you know."

The puzzled young man wrinkled his brow but said nothing. Isaac was a good kid. He rarely complained and did way more than the average teenager in terms of keeping things together. This was partly out of necessity when his dad had left, but also because he genuinely loved his mother.

She was a bit dingy, he knew that. His mom would constantly forget things, or offer solutions to problems even when she was way out of her depth, and she was a terrible driver too, Isaac was much better. But, she tried. She tried hard for both of them and was always there when he needed her.

Isaac reached around to the backseat and produced a large white towel. He was quick to drape it over his shivering body. And the moment his Speedos disappeared from the corner of her eye, Melinda sighed. She felt instant relief like that transient, inexplicable heatwave had finally passed and was gone for good. She could even think clearly now.

"So what time is Brandon coming over?" she asked and was pleased to hear that her own voice was once again registering in a normal frequency.

"After dinner," Isaac replied. And he did that on purpose. He felt hours according to the clock caused her too much consternation, or at least unnecessary confusion.

"You guys have any big plans for the weekend?" she continued.

"Not really, no. We'll probably go swimming tomorrow though—but his mom will take us, I know you've got work. How was work by the way?"

Melinda raised her baseball hat and then set it back down on her well-combed brown hair. It flowed down the back of her head into a nice, tidy ponytail. "Oh, you know, it was a dream. I sold a boy some panties though, that was kind of cool. He said they were for his sister." She laughed and made air quotes to emphasize the point. "Sister..." she mused.

That got Isaac's attention. He turned his cute face her way and blinked his big, brown eyes. "Mom?"

"Oh it was nothing, it happens all the time. And so what if they were for him! It's none of our business and we shouldn't judge."

Isaac considered, and despite his best attempt to come up with some witty retort, he found her words to be pretty sage advice and merely shrugged. Then he saw her smirk. "Mom... Why are you looking at me like that?"

She grinned. Isaac always thought she had a pretty smile. She was younger than the other moms so their relationship was a little bit different than most teenagers and their parents. This was especially true of his friends who were the youngest of one, two, or in some cases, a plethora of siblings. He felt that their parents more closely resembled their grandparents.

"Mom... What's with that look?" he asked again.

"I'm not looking at you, it's nothing," she finally said. But he knew there was more, and decided to out-wait her. It didn't take long, it never did. Just a few seconds later the predictable young woman cracked and blurted out, "Maybe you'd like some? I can bring some panties home for you, how would that sound?" She didn't give him any time to react and started listing all the various types of undergarments the teenage girls buy at her store in the mall. She described the sizes, the patterns, the embroidery, and the shapes until finally he reached over and jabbed at her shoulder.

The car swerved again and Melinda's smile dried up. "Isaac! Be careful! I'm driving," she said in her stern, authoritative voice. When he didn't show any remorse, or admit in any way he was sorry, Melinda reached over the console and took his hand in hers. "Just so you don't do it again," she said.

The heatwave returned the moment their fingers interlocked. His soft palm and his delicate fingers did something to her brain that confused her, that pushed her mind into overdrive. He could have been just too stunned to pull away, but he sat there and calmly held her hand. Isaac even squeezed it a few times but his mother never made the connection between his nervous twitching and the velocity and trajectory of her vehicle.

It was zipping down the road when vivid memories from earlier blocked her vision. Her truck crossed over the dotted yellow line and veered into oncoming traffic, but fortunately for them, no one else was on the road and she was quick to correct it. These visions that infiltrated her thoughts and distracted her were fresh, less than half an hour old. They started with her arriving at the pool to pick up her son.

It was the first time she'd seen him dressed in his water polo outfit. She couldn't help but just stand there, quiet and stupefied, staring like an idiot at her son's body. The other moms joked and laughed and talked with each other, but not Melinda. She was taken in by the yellow briefs that stretched so tightly over his buttocks that it reminded her of herself when she was that age. There was even that same part that wedged into his crease that used to drive her crazy. She'd always make sure the coast was clear and then pluck it out when no one was looking. But Isaac didn't appear to be bothered by it at all. It crawled so far inside it more closely resembled a girl's thong bikini than what a teenage boy should be wearing. Then, when he turned and faced her to wave, she saw the front and her heart skipped a beat. Melinda cleared her throat.

"So, do any of those panties sound like good options to you?" she asked.

"You're crazy, you know that?" Isaac said.

"What? Hey, there's nothing wrong with it. I've just never seen you see excited about my work before, I thought that maybe—"

Isaac interrupted her. "Mom, I literally just asked how work was. You don't have to go buy me any lingerie."

She squeezed his hand. "Well, if you change your mind, let me know, OK?"

"You'll be the first person I tell. So can we drop this now?"

Melinda considered and there was silence for a moment. But, she couldn't help herself. "You know they're really not much different from that, uh, thing you're wearing..."

"Mom!"

"What! They're cute! And you look good! That's all," she said, then shook her head as if he were an ungrateful, insolent child.

"If you say any of this to Brandon, I will kill you, you know that right? I will literally take these off and strangle you with them."

Melinda gulped. His joke had nearly paralyzed her. Those flashing images hadn't even gotten to the good parts yet. But she didn't need to see them again, not with him sitting so close. Melinda glanced down at his crotch and tried to burn a hole through the towel with her eyes. She desperately tried to piece together what lay underneath. He must have had a tan line, she thought. And did he shave? He mentioned something about how in water polo you're supposed to shave every part of your body. She regretted not paying more attention to that conversation. But he was right after all, every one of those boys on his team had smooth legs and tummies.

Just as she was about to look away, Isaac opened his legs. A little seamed opened up down the middle of his towel. It wasn't much, but it was enough to make out a small swath of his inner thigh. It didn't take Isaac long to notice and he snapped his knees together. His mom's hand felt wet.

"Promise me you won't be weird when Brandon is over?" he pleaded.

"I, uh, I'll do my best, sweetie," she said as she rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand.

Isaac kept his mouth shut for a bit, then took a deep breath and said, "You know he's only coming over to see you, right?"

Melinda scoffed. "What? Me! Get out of here..."

"Oh don't pretend like you don't know. All the boys like you. You're hot. I don't think they care about me at all," he said. Isaac immediately regretted it and braced himself for a deluge of immaturity that only she was capable of. He rapped his knuckles impatiently on the armrest.

A second ticked by. More knuckles. Another second. Then, there it was. Melinda couldn't help herself and struck a pose. She batted her eyelashes and asked, "Is it just them, or do you think I'm hot too?"

The sixteen-year-old just rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on!" she said. "I'm just having a little fun."

But Isaac wasn't so sure. He jostled his hand free and pointed at her top. "I don't think so Mom, not when you dress like that. Come on! How do you not notice that everyone's staring at you all the time? You're doing it on purpose I bet, you know how good you look! It's... It's confusing!"

She glanced down for a second at her cleavage before bringing her eyes back to the long desolate highway. The tops of her breasts were very much present and visible, and they were still perky enough to stand up on their own without a bra. They practically squished themselves together. Melinda pinched her top and pulled, but it did little good and her shirt just slid back down. "So you're saying I am sexy? Oh, come on, you should be grateful! All the other boys' moms look like grandmas, you should be happy for me. And besides, I think you got some of my good looks. So, you're welcome!"

The boy glared at her but kept his mouth shut, he was getting nowhere. But everything she said was true, as misguided and insane as it was. She was immature, but never a liar. She was incapable of it, even the part about her being sexy was the truth. This worried Isaac for some reason, he felt he was starting to resemble his petite, thirty-four-year-old mother more and more. He would spend more time looking at her legs when she wore her short shorts around the house, or at her bust when he felt he could get away with it. He was mostly worried his curiosity was going to get him caught. Then suddenly, his heart sank.

He turned his gaze away from her bust, now red-faced and embarrassed. And for once, even she couldn't think of anything to say. No dumb joke about her breasts, or about her nipples that were nearly bursting through her shirt, nothing. She just stared forward and focused on good things—responsible things like speedometers and lanes.

Several minutes passed by like this, in an awkward silence. It was Melinda who eventually broke it, but she didn't use her words. She reached between her legs and popped open the button on her jeans, and the zipper slipped about halfway down.

"Mom!" Isaac complained. "Do you have to do that now? Really?"

"You know I hate these things! And even though I can barely breathe I still have to wear them, you know that! I have to wear all the crap that we sell to the teenagers. And what's wrong all of a sudden, I always do this, would you rather me complain the rest of the way home?"

When Isaac shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his towel slipped again. This time he didn't notice. The weird energy in the car had him distracted too, like it was contagious. This simple ride home that they'd done a million times before had somehow become complicated. None of it made any sense, his mother's behavior may have been considered normal, but for him this was new. He felt hot.

Isaac slowly untangled the towel from his upper body, leaving only his crotch shrouded in mystery. His chest was enough for his mom though. She stole glance after glance at his petite, swimmer's physique. He had a small, muscular chest, and that same abdominal structure that she'd had at sixteen. Melinda tried to look inconspicuous, but the truck bounced and shook a few times a few times even though there was no one else on the road.

Melinda sat up tall, pushed her chest forward, and concentrated on trying not to kill them. But that arc of her spine just intrigued Isaac even more, and the way she thrust her tight bottom out behind her into the back of her seat just made it worse. She knew he was peeking now. She could see his head pointing her way out of the corner of her eye.

Isaac was uncharacteristically deliberate as he stared down the back of her pants. Very casually, Melinda curled some hair behind one ear then gently rocked side to side in her seat like she was trying to get comfortable. When she finished, she parted her knees even wider. Isaac choked.

He coughed into his hand. But Melinda was too wound up to even check on him. He could have been choking on a rock and she would have been too embarrassed to help. Eventually, her motherly instincts took over and she found the courage to look over at him. Isaac was staring straight forward, but the towel around his waist had completely unraveled.

Melinda had this crazy idea that this whole thing was a game, and now it was her turn. She took a deep breath and swallowed up the yellow bikini bottoms around his waist, and that small package bundled up between his legs. She adjusted the wheel. "Stay in your lane! Stay in your lane!" she ordered herself. It had a graceful shape to it. She didn't need to visualize or use her imagination to figure out how big it was or how it was oriented. The whole shaft had an outline as clear as day all the way up to the distinct shape of the head.

Isaac waited for his turn patiently. Eventually, his mother looked away and scooted back in her seat. The zipper slipped down a few more notches. Then, she reached around and scratched her back, but her fingers very subtly tugged her shirt upward. Isaac could feel his penis growing in his briefs like it was trying to escape out the side. But he didn't care, he was far too invested in all that bare skin of his mother's lower back, and that stupid tattoo he'd always hated. He loved it now though. He loved that even though he'd seen glimpses of it his entire life, she was now unveiling it just for him. And it was more than just that, he savored the way her blue thong ran down her crack and disappeared into her jeans.

She waited as long as she could before wheeling her head back around. The car jolted, but Melinda needed to see it. She had to watch it fill out right before her eyes. Suddenly, it twitched. His penis slipped to the side and was threatening to escape through the leg. Melinda held her breath as it grew and warped the yellow material of his briefs. Thicker. Longer. The sign for her exit flew by.

Isaac tried to say something, to point out that they had missed the off-ramp, but all that came out was a quiet whimper. He was looking right at it, they both were. But he was actively trying to stop it, he held his breath and willed his penis to say in its bathing suit. Their eyes met, both unblinking and glassy. The two pursed their lips as they panted and quietly studied each other's faces. Then suddenly, an air horn got her attention and Melinda brought the truck back into her lane. She didn't remember the last few minutes of their drive, it was all fuzzy.

But they never had an opportunity to rest or settle down. The charade resumed as soon they pulled into the driveway. The two met behind the truck and Melinda opened the tailgate. There were groceries in the back, strewn about all over the place. They had been neatly organized into reusable shopping bags, the kind that had a latch to secure them. But the latch had fallen victim to Melinda's driving, and the bungee cords that kept them fastened to the truck were somewhere out on the highway.

Isaac jumped up, and on hands and knees collected what was left of the vegetables while Melinda watched. They hadn't spoken in what seemed like ages. Neither of them dared to say a word. They didn't care if the neighbors were out walking their dogs and saw a teenage boy in Speedos on all fours crawling around in the back of a truck while his mother watched—a mother with her pants partially undone. But fortunately for them, the coast was clear. It was probably too hot for a casual stroll outside. Isaac handed the bags to his mother and then hopped down.

Melinda disappeared as soon as they got inside, leaving him to put away the groceries. A friend at school had given an unbelievable, but very elaborate account of how cramped for space their fridge at home was, like it was a pandemic threatening the end of the world. At the time, Isaac couldn't have cared less, but now he made a note that when he next saw Jackie he'd be sure to tell her how serious the fridge space shortage...