Cynthia models her new fit for me. She looks stunning in her high-end crepe pencil skirt and red satin blouse, the prominence of her malleolus accentuated by her silver stiletto heels.

We're in a dressing room at the Lux Galleria. Cynthia has taken her top off and I'm absolutely fucking mesmerized by her armpits.

She's wearing her periwinkle cage bra with peekaboo straps and I'm sprung. I just keep thinking to myself, How the fuck did you end up here with this scion of Venus? Her tail of Spence is a one-of-a-kind creation, soft as a vicuña and pleated in all the right places. Just like Cynthia herself.

I run my tongue over the hollow of her underarm and she sucks air through her teeth and giggles softly.

“Freak,” she says.

“You're the freak,” I say, kissing her armpit and working my way over to her raised nubbins. “Freak of nature. No one should be this hot.”

Cynthia laughs and cups the back of my neck.

“Shut up,” she says. “You're gonna get us busted.”

“I'm gonna bust you,” I whisper. “Wide the fuck open.”

Cynthia moans and massages my scalp as I forage, my lips brushing against her perfumed flesh. I make my way down to her waist. She's already wet and it shows through the front of her periwinkle lace trim bikini panties.

“You want it,” she says.

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, you want it?”

I nod, mouth open, salivating before her saturated cooch. She reaches into her bag and produces something that looks like a big black robot dildo.

It has a thick rounded head with a squared off front that's replete with a smooth panel of glass. The glass rests between two hard plastic lips.

The head sits atop a stout shaft, which tapers into an oval counter mount bracket.

“What the fuck?”

“Barcode scanner,” she says. “Swiped it on the way in.”

“We lookin' up prices?”

“Thought you were pleasing mommy,” she breathes.

I take the RFID scanner from her hand.

“Lean back,” I say.

Cynthia reclines on the fitting room bench and throws her head back. I admire the Venus rings of her throat as she shuts her eyes and I quietly dribble on the head of the scanner.

I take her by her hips and pull her down toward me. Then I move her lace trim panties to the side and bring the head of the scanner to her cooze.

The scan engine sinks slowly into her canal and Cynthia cries out. I cover her mouth with my free palm.

“Shh. Eyes closed. Feet up.”

Cynthia presses her warm soles to my chest and shuts her eyes again. I drive the scanner farther into her, watching its arm disappear into her soft pink flesh and imagining it is my robotic cock. As I plumb her depths, I spit on my free hand and use it to lube myself up.

Cynthia whimpers as I gradually glide into her back door from the front, inserting my engorged cock in her piping hot pinhole and rooting around patiently. Her ass clasps around me as I jerk the scanner back and forth, bringing my smoking hot mom to the brink.

I pound her ass as the fat head of the scanner pulverizes her sweet spot. Cynthia's cries grow louder and that's my cue.

I release my grip on the scanner and shield her vulva with my palm, rubbing her tissue into a frenzy. Cynthia ah-ah-ahs her way to satisfaction, spritzing me as the heels of her feet hammer my pecs.

I empty myself in her asshole, savoring one last pump as her feet hug my shoulders and she begs me to stop. I relent, falling back on my ass and enjoying the view, the scanner protruding from her perfect peach.

Afterward, we pick out some new threads for our upcoming meeting. I managed to land us an interview with Abject Media, a content creation firm in the big city.

When we return to the hotel room, we're both spent. We throw ourselves onto the fluffy comforter and sigh.

“This could be big,” I say.

“Oh, I know it,” Cynthia purrs, smiling and rubbing at the front of my boxer briefs.

I laugh.

“No, the meeting. A media company's a bigger fish than some small-time publisher.”

“Just promise me we'll have equal time. I want a voice in these things.”

“Of course,” I assure her. “We're Jimmy McGill and Kim Wexler.”

“I was thinking more like Spencer Tracy and Katharine Hepburn. 'A boy sows a wild oat or two, the whole world winks. A girl does the same—scandal.'”

“Is that... what is that?”

“Are you kidding?”

I shake my head.

“Jesus,” she sighs. “I forget what a baby you are.”

She rises from the bed and crosses the room, taking off her clothes.

“Fuck you,” I laugh. “I know things.”

“Alright,” she says. “How about we go in there like Nick and Nora Charles... minus their dog, Asta.”

I blink stupidly at her and she smirks. Cynthia shakes her head as she removes her diamond earrings, setting them on the night stand.

“You got some 'splainin' to do.”

“I know that one,” I tell her. “I grew up on I Love Lucy.”

“You grew up on Adult Swim,” she jokes, throwing herself back in the bed and pressing her face to my chest.

“I broadened my horizons,” I insist.

“You mean, you also watched porn?”

I pinch her ass and she jumps and giggles.

“I'll show you porn,” I say, squeezing her bountiful booty.

“I bet you will,” she says, kissing me. “'Waiter, will you serve the nuts?'”

I just look at her, not knowing whether this is a bit or if she's talking about my nuts.

“'I mean,'” she continues in a fluttery, whispery alto, “'will you serve the guests the nuts.'”

I shrug.

“The Thin Man? Myrna Loy? William Powell?”

I laugh and shrug again.

“You better not be this helpless tomorrow,” she says, biting my nipple.