Mom 1 - Ever the Same

"I didn't know you've started wearing skirts by the way!" you mom exclaims happily as the two of you sit down at the café table.

"What do you- I've always worn skirts." you counter, instinctively a bit on the defensive since you almost exclusively wear them for Zoey but you don't want your mom to know.

"Come on, rarely ever." she dismisses your claim. "Suits you though. In general, you look lovely today!"

"Thanks." is all you say. You do look pretty good today - Zoey will be joining you, after all. Thus, the skirt was a must, along with a low cut top. Obviously you can't show too much skin with your mom around but it's still enough to grant your, well, girlfriend a bit of a show. What's weird though is the fact that your mom hasn't covered herself much either. Like, sure, it's warm and all, but that sun dress of hers could've been buttoned up a tad more. Obviously, you're not that much of a prude to actually have an issue with her showing a little skin - she's single and in her mid 40s - but, well, Zoey's gonna be here.

Actually, the impending arrival of your horndog of a lover sort of makes you look at your mother differently. Ever since she and dad split, she's been putting more effort into her appearance and it shows. For her age, she's admittedly in great shape. Slender, not too many wrinkles and apparently, if her cleavage is anything to go by, pretty stacked. Was is always like that? Did she get something done? Ew, what a weird thing to think.

You definitely got most of your own look from her. Her hair obviously has grayed a bit so it isn't as bright orange as yours, but her eyes have the same shade of blue. Especially this time of the year, she carries the same freckles as you. She's just a bit tanned since, well, she just sees the sun more often. Speaking of tan...

"So, how was the vacation?" you ask her, trying to make some conversation before your ever-late date finally shows up.

"Oh, wonderful! Not a day of rain and the hotel? Mwah." she kisses her fingers and leans back, crossing her legs. "And the frenchmen, ooh la la~"

"Ugh, don't. Please." you grimace, not wanting to hear about her experience with said frenchmen.

"Vacations are for having a good time, Ronya." your mother defends herself. "Can't a girl have a fling or two?"

"You know, mom, you can have all the flings you want. Just don't fucking tell me about them."

"Language." she warns and then, luckily, the waitress approaches.

"Oh, hey!" she greets you. Oh yeah, you part-time work at this place. Still, you're not here to spend time with your coworkers, so you just politely greet her back. Then, both you and your mom order - cappuccino for her, green tea for you. Yes, ironically enough for a barista, you don't really drink coffee.

"Now, where's the girl of the hour?" your mom wonders and looks around.

"She's a bit late. Stuck in traffic." you make up, not a clue why she's actually not here yet.

"Ah, that's the city for you." comments your mother but then her tone changes a bit. "You know, honey, I gotta ask: this whole homosexuality thing - are you really sure?"

"Yes, mother." you answer, a bit exasperated. Of course she would come up with shit like this.

"I mean, don't get me wrong, women are beautiful, but when the right man comes along, you know, it changes things." she tries to explain. "Back when I was your age, hell, I had my experiments too, but when the first real man came around and really showed me-"

"Okay, okay, stop." you interrupt her. "First of all, if it soothes your nerves: I'm bisexual. Second, Zoey's amazing and I love her. Hell, you could argue she doesn't even count as-" woah. Okay, better not go there.

"As what?" your nosy mother unfortunately inquires. "She doesn't count as what?"

"N-nothing, forget about it." you deflect. Regrettably, as tone deaf as this woman can be, she has her sharp-witted moments.

"Wait, is this some kind of trans situation?"

"Mom, I-... ugh, more or less." you sigh and give up. "I guess."

"A tranny! My goodness!"

"Je- mom! Don't call her that!" you hiss, lowering your voice.

"Ah yes, of course, forgive- oh."" she begins her half-assed apology, but stops upon spotting something - or someone - behind you. "Oh my."