Your Momma Don't Dance

“That’s it. Megan, move your fat ass out of here. No one wants to see your flabby behind.” Directed Michelle.

And gave it a solid whack as Megan turned away to stand with the crowd, holding the back and front of her shorts together with her hands for modesty’s sake.

“You get down here Eva or I’m coming up after you!” she commanded.”

“Lady, you aren't go’in anywhere in that outfit. Certainly not climbing.” someone pointed out.

“He’s right” thought Michelle. Dressed as she was in a mid-calf, split hem, gray pencil dress, long sleeve jacket, beige blouse and high heeled strappy sandals.

So, she did the next best thing and started to shake the scissor extenders of the lift as if Eva would drop down like some piece of ripe fruit.

“Are you coming down or not?”

“I can’t, my clothes are ripped and people will see my undies and laugh. And Megan will try to tear the rest of my clothes off!” she cried.

Michelle renewed her efforts.

The shaking machine got Eva’s attention. “OK, OK. Stop. Lemme try some buttons and stuff.”

Slapping at anything that looked like a control, the lift suddenly lurched back down to about 7 feet from the floor.

“Good.” said Michelle. “You can jump from there. The two of you have made a fool out of me. And I will not be made to LOOK RIDICULOUS AGAIN!”

Satisfied, she turned to face the crowd, assuming her usual imperious stance: hands on hips, back arched, chest out as if she were about to fire a couple of torpedoes at the enemy.

“OK. Show’s over. Go back to whatever you people live in.” she contemptuously ordered.

About to climb down, Eva knocked a small, plugged in, corded hand held, paddle blade mixer used to blend thick, gold-leaf paste, down into the open space between her mother’s bare back and blouse, created when she put hands on hips and arched her back.

“And another thing. You people ought…to... whoa, aah-ha, aahh, oohhh!! What the…”

Michelle suddenly cut herself off in mid sentence and began to shimmy at the shoulders, gyrating her derriere in sync, alternately bending at the waist and back up again, staggering around on her designer high heels and tight skirt, trying get the offending object to move around to the front so that she could get at it.

“What the...oh,...oh...EEEPP! OHHH!! Something is down the back of my blouse! OH! Ah-ha, whoo-oo!”

She looked possessed. Almost obscene. Vulgar? Sexual? Definitely. Certainly ludicrous in her stuffy business suite meant for poise, grace and measured movement. Not some hedonistic limbo performance.

The crowd was in stitches. Even Megan had to stifle a laugh as she watched that arrogant, conceited and vain mother of hers become the object of derision.

Finally she got the mixer to the front of her blouse and discretely turned away from the crowd to extract it. But, as she reached into her blouse to retrieve it, Michelle accidentally switched it on.

The paddle blade attachment started to whir and churn against the fabric of her brassiere and nipples underneath. Michelle arched her back, holding the palms of her hands close to her bosom, not sure if she should touch them, shaking them up and down as one would do to dry them off.

“Help!! AAHAHH!!!” she shrieked.

She began to lay hold of her breasts and blouse, trying to **** the mixer up and out. Popping a few buttons, bending down from the waist to shake it out and giving folks a gander at her huge melons, shuddering inside her bra. “AAAHHHH!!! God, help! AAHHH!!!” She screamed.

Jerking her shoulders back and forth, back upright again, high stepping and squatting up and down in her tight skirt, showing some thigh and white garter attached to the top of her black stockings. Anything to get rid of this thing. The crowd was now consumed in frenzied laughter. Even Megan gave in to it. That smug, egotistical woman was getting her due.

All of this convulsing caused her tight skirt to begin separating in the back at the split hem just under her ample hindquarters, showing more of her garters and some white material above them at her thighs. Michelle didn’t even notice. Being preoccupied at the moment, as it were. Others did though.

“Hey, you see what I see?” as one guy nudged his companion. “Can it get any better?!!” “That old hellcat sure has got some moves! And some nice hooters to boot. Wonder what other moves she can perform.”

“EVA!!! HELP!!” she howled. “This thing is in my tits now!! AAAhhh!!! she cried out. “All these people are looking at me!!!”

Heeding the call, Eva yanked back hard on the electric cord. “A lot of resistance.” she thought. Better pull harder.

Michelle realized too late what Eva was about to do and tried vainly to hold on to the electric cord and the front of her blouse at the same time.

“Eva! Wait! STOP!” “EEEEEKKKKK!!

RIIIPP! YOINK!