A mother seeking some (im)proper attire for the business ahead.

It was hard to fathom the idea that her Aida's friend peeped at her in the shower.

She had a confused but simmering anger, and trying to understand what could have possibly led Denise to... to... spy on her only made her more confused and angry. Which was made worse when she realized the clothes she put on certainly couldn't have been what she laid out.

The light sweater and, uggh, mom pants were so dull she couldn't even remember why she had them. Surely they couldn't have been what she planned to wear after her shower. She had slid on the panties, grey boring things, followed by her not-tight-enough jeans and, after a moment of hesitation, the bra. The shirt she had grabbed was some horrendous pastel blouse she refused to wear. It was entirely too much fabric for her to make eye-catching without some alterations... involving a pair of scissors. Still, even without it, her skin felt like it was crawling from how drab her undergarments and jeans were.

She almost stumbled as she entered her room, hearing the pattering of hurried feet in the other room and up the stairs. She didn't know why the girl would stay in the house; the little pervert must have known she would hear that ruckus. She would need to chase down that girl once she got dressed correctly and...

She momentarily felt a strange onset of dizziness and leaned against her mattress frame. She felt something akin to a headache for a moment, though it felt more like a pressing sensation against her temple than any actual pain. She held her head, but after a moment, it passed, and she looked around. She glared at her image in the mirror, reminding her, of the tasteless, if not outright bland, bra she had put on.

Clearly, that nasty pervert den-d-delinquent girl must have taken what I had planned to wear!

She was so angry that she was even tripping over her own thoughts! She went straight to her walk-in wardrobe and hurriedly opened the doors, cringing at all the mom clothes she had packed up front. Combined with her ring, all of it would make her look like a mere suburban mom! Where the hell was her normal clothing!?

She rummaged through her clothing in search of something scandalous, provocative, something only barely acceptable in public that would draw eyes towards her. All she found was disappointment over the lack of options. She wanted a low-cut dress with a deep V revealing her heavy tracks of land, a figure-hugging bodycon suit that accentuated her ass, or a sheer silken blouse that you could barely see through… All she found was a pile of lackluster crap, unflattering mom clothes that left her aggravated and frustrated.

That trollop must have been swiping all of her good clothing! Hell, she only ever saw Denise wear one or two things of any worth; the pervert must have taken them to… to… appeal to Aida! It was a wonder her Aida even gave Denise the time of day with how bland the girl was. The teen could drop into a vat of lube with a white shirt two sizes too small and still lose a wet t-shirt contest. She couldn’t even properly pull off a sexy geek look.

The mother grabbed a white shirt from the back, a forgotten item from long ago, a size too small that made it perfect once she **** it on and checked herself in the mirror. Sure enough, the shirt barely accommodated her double Ds, a hint of nipple visible under the stretched fabric, while her chest held it up enough for her midriff to be awkwardly revealed. Enough that some men would ogle her outright, while others would awkwardly avert looking at her directly, perfect.

The only thing that ruined the look was the gold band on her finger. She looked down at the tolerable diamond's gold band but the largely uninteresting design. It was just so... average. If her husband couldn't have gotten her an expensive, exquisite one, she would have preferred a cheap showy thing that stood out.

That's all a mom like her wants, after all, to be the sexy MILF all the boys fantasized about.

Or girls. Time to deal with Aida’s perverted imp of a friend.