THE BEST WHITE MILF FROM THE BLOCK

(First note: All characters are of legal age. Second note: All characters are fictional and bear no resemblance to real people. Third note: English is not my native language, so I apologize for any mistakes or awkward sentences. If you'd like, please help me make the story better and more readable.)

CHAPTER ONE

Scarlett knew something was wrong from the slam of the door. It wasn't like her son to slam the door like that.

"Scott?" she called, getting up from the couch.

She only saw the teenager hurry up the stairs, where he then slammed his bedroom door just as loudly.

"Are you okay?"

Since Scarlett didn't get an answer, she went up the stairs and knocked on the door.

"Scott?"

"Go away," she heard vaguely, and she opened the door. Scarlett found her son lying on the bed, his face buried in the pillow.

"What's wrong?"

"I said go away!" he screamed.

When he sat up, Scarlett saw that his lip was bleeding and his face was bruised. Not only that, but he was missing his new, white designer shoes, which she had bought with him just yesterday. They hadn't been by the door either. His socks were pitch black with dirt.

"Honey, what happened?" she wanted to know, sitting down next to him on the bed.

He wiped the tears and snot from his face before he began to tell his story.

"I was with Mike and Jeff in the... downtown... that's when we met Deon and his friend. They were following us, harassing us, and when I tried to defend myself..."

Scott wiped the snot from his face once more.

"...Deon's big brother came. Lebron. He's been bullying me and other kids at school for a while, and he... and he... he hit me and then stole my shoes."

Scott burst into tears again and couldn't calm down for a moment.

Scarlett could only sit there, heartbroken to see her son like that. She waited patiently until the attack was more or less over, and then he was just lying on the bed, sniffling and sobbing.

"So Lebron hit you and stole your shoes?" Scarlett asked, because she hadn't understood much of what was being said under the whimpering waterfall.

Her son just nodded.

"And he's been bullying you and your friends at school for a while?"

Another nod.

"Is he a student?"

"No, he..."

Scott sat up straight.

he just drops his two siblings off in the morning, picks them up, and then bullies us whenever he sees us."

Sighing, Scarlett rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger, pondering what she should do now. Talking to his homeroom teacher, Mrs. Thompson, wouldn't improve the situation.

The woman already had to teach several classes, including detention. Calling the police? After all, it was about **** and theft, only that could make things worse.

"Maybe we should talk to your father..."

"No, not to Dad about it," he almost shouted.

Scott's father, Donald, was a strict, straightforward man who took matters into his own hands. He would take it as a personal insult that his only son let himself be beaten and robbed, and then there would be real stress at home.

"Fine, then I'll take care of it."

"What?"

"Tell me where he lives and I'll go there. I'll get your shoes back and make sure he never bothers you again."

"But Mom..."

"No buts. If you can't help yourself, I have to do it, or do you want your father to take care of it?"

Scott shook his head quickly.

"Then tell him tonight you injured yourself playing sports and tell me where this Lebron guy lives. I'll be back before dinner."

Scott thought uncertainly for a while before finally giving her the address, and Scarlett set off.

She drove her BMW to a less upscale part of town, following the directions from her navigation system.

Many of the shops were closed, the area was dirty, and the front yards of the houses were old and run-down. Scarlett had never strayed into this neighborhood before, and she was happy to live with her family in the north of the city.

Scarlett had once been a casual model with aspirations to become an actress, but apart from a few almost-nude appearances in cheap horror films and TV series, it had never panned out. Her career took a hit with an unexpected pregnancy, but that wasn't a big deal for Scarlett. She had always been a family person and had always wanted a large family, but her husband, Donald, only wanted one child if Scarlett wanted to return to show business. Donald had first become her agent and then very quickly her husband, and she had Scott at twenty.

For twelve years, he had been her everything, and she didn't regret for a second turning her back on the catwalk and film sets. During that time, Donald continued to pursue his career as an agent and was quite successful, which was a good thing, because Scarlett had never learned anything. She no longer had any money of her own and, since Scott, had been a housewife and mother. She would do anything for her child, her husband, and her family.

She had even turned down her friend Jodie's invitation to fly to Rio for Carnival because she didn't want to leave her two men alone. Scarlett needed her family, and her family needed Scarlett, so she drove through the east side of the city, knowing herself that it was crazy and dangerous. But Scarlett was a woman who could take care of herself, and she had been known to stand up to intrusive photographers and filmmakers. Scarlett reached her destination and frowned as she examined the house. It looked reasonably well-kept. Except for the fact that it was quite old and sun-bleached. The front yard could have been mowed. A group of children were playing tag two houses down, and some had turned on the fire hydrant and were enjoying the shower.

Scarlett felt like she was in a Western as she got out and locked the car. All eyes were on her, and she hoped to still find all her tires and hubcaps when the job was done.

She walked up to the house, knocked on the door, and it took a while before someone answered.

A tall, burly young Black man, probably in his early twenties, with tattoos, gold jewelry, and dreadlocks, introduced himself to Scarlett. He was shirtless, just black pants. Even though Scarlett wasn't exactly short at 5'10, the young man towered over her in height and bulk.

He seemed very surprised to see her standing at his door, but then smiled broadly, showing his even, white teeth.

"Are you Lebron?" Scarlett asked, knowing that offense was the best defense.

"Who wants to know?" he asked. "I'm Scott's mom, and I want to talk about what happened today."

"I'm Scott's mom, and I want to talk about what happened today."

He grinned even wider, crossed his arms, and leaned casually against the broken wood of the doorframe.

"Is that so?" he simply asked.

Lebron looked at Scarlett, and it was obvious he liked what he saw. His smile was still friendly with a generous dose of cheekiness. Scarlett also noticed his cheeky look at her breasts.

"You beat him up and stole his shoes," Scarlett said, putting her hands on her hips and straightening her back.

He should stare down her cleavage. She was used to such looks.

"Is that what he's telling me?"

"Yes, that's what he told me."

"But that's only half the truth."

"Oh?"

"Your son and his friends didn't treat my little brother and his friend well. They made fun of them for not wearing expensive clothes and for their parents not making much money."

"I don't believe it," Scarlett said.

"He was bragging about his new shoes, saying they cost more than our monthly benefits. I stepped in and showed him that money isn't everything."

Lebron tensed his muscles a little.

"That..." Scarlett stammered.

She couldn't and didn't want to believe it, but as the child of wealthy parents, Scott was better off than others and often showed it off. A trait he inherited from his father. After all, he had married a successful model and actress.

"I'm very sorry about that. But it still wasn't right to hit him and take his shoes away."

"I didn't hit him. I picked him up, held him by his feet, took off his shoes, and let him fall. Hence the scratches on his face."

"But he tells me you bully him and his friends at school. How old are you? 23?"

"I'm 21 and yes, I bully them," he said, standing up straight.

Now Lebron was playing up his height, which didn't impress Scarlett.

"Someone has to stand up to these spoiled boys, and unfortunately, my brother can't help himself. It's not right, but it's the only language anyone understands."

He scratched his chest, and Scarlett involuntarily watched his fingers stroke the black tattoo. He hadn't missed it.

"I was planning on bringing him the shoes back tomorrow. What are we supposed to do with them? Deon doesn't have such small feet."

"Then you can give them back to me now."

"No. Then your son won't learn anything from it, and I think we should talk calmly about what to do next."

"I'm all for it, too, and..."

Without saying anything else, Lebron walked into the house, and Scarlett watched him undecided.

Should she just follow him? She glanced over her shoulder at her car.

"What? Afraid someone will steal your tires? We're poor here, not thieves," he said, and shaking her head, Scarlett entered.