The Amazin’ Amazon Mom Does the punishment fit the crime?,
This is a work of fantasy. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental, and the actions contained herein should not be duplicated. It’s all pretend, folks.
Justin Papamarkakis was looking forward to an easy summer sitting by the pool. It was his last summer at home before moving on to college, and he’d already enjoyed all the pre-graduation and post-graduation parties to the fullest, with plans to enjoy the rest of the summer similarly.
But his mother had a different plan.
Which was why he was currently cleaning out the men’s locker room at the Amazonia Gym. He picked up another towel and threw it in the basket, grumbling to himself. Yes, the gym paid for that pool he spent so much time sitting around, as well as the jeep he drove, and yes, it was also paying for the bulk of his future college education, but that didn’t mean Justin enjoyed spending time there. Not when there were parties to be enjoyed, women to be swept off their feet, and friends to hang out with.
Diana Papamarkakis had decided, however, that her son was going to spend his last summer after high school working. At the gym.
Justin wished he could say no to her, but he didn’t know a man alive who could give his mother such an answer, himself included. She was tall and beautiful and aloof, and men did whatever they could to impress her. Her approval was something Justin considered very important. He was an only child, raised by a single mother who referred to her son occasionally as a ‘youthful indiscretion.’ He didn’t know his father, had never met the man, and Diana had never been very forthcoming. Nor was she particularly warm and maternal, come to think of it. She had used a hands-off approach to parenting; she spent most of her time ensuring that her business was run well and substituted gifts for emotional intimacy.
He wondered when she first asked him to start at the gym if his upcoming departure for college had awakened some desire, after eighteen years, to manufacture some kind of closeness between the two of them. He hoped it was so, deep in his heart of hearts, but wouldn’t have admitted that hope even to himself. Which was just as well, all things considered. Already, the second week of July was ending, and he’d barely said more than two words to his mother at all during work hours.
His dark eyes swept the locker room and noted with relief that there was nothing left to pick up. He would run the laundry basket down to the washers in the basement, then come back to mop the room. To remind himself, he crossed the tiled floor and dragged the mop and bucket out of the utility closet, leaving it in the center of the room.
There were certain benefits to working at Amazonia. The pocket change he earned was one. Put gas in the jeep and paid for beers, at least. That Aerosmith concert coming up, too. All the gym’s equipment, including the Olympic size pool, was available to his use. Not so different than not working there for the owner’s son, but it still qualified as a perk.
Then there was the eye-candy. A stream of nubile, hard bodied and hot blooded women passed in and out of the halls of Amazonia. Halter tops, biker shorts, sports bras, tanned and tall and short and thin and long-legged and big-titted women. So much to look at, day in and day out. And, despite the parties and a certain level of athletic prowess and popularity at school, Justin remained a virgin. He’d had opportunities to be sure, but he’d never been able to close the deal. And working at the gym gave him a great deal of fuel for his fantasies.
Janine Smith, for one. Now that woman was a milf and a half. Six feet tall, blonde and busty, with a deep golden tan. She was nearly forty, older even than his mother, but she was smoking hot. Then there was Lena Chao. Twenty-something with waist length black hair, almond shaped eyes, and a petite but lush frame. Or hell, even Marjorie Klim, one of the gym’s personal trainers. You’d never think a chick named Marge would be such a babe, but her short red hair, milky complexion, and gray eyes were hard to miss.
Yet not a single one of them could hold a candle to his own mother. But a son wasn’t supposed to look at his mother the way Justin sometimes looked at Diana.
Whistling to himself to dispel dangerous thoughts, Justin guided the laundry basket out of the men’s locker room and down the hall to the women’s. He knocked lightly on the door and asked if anyone was in there, but expected no response. The gym had closed nearly a half hour ago, and he assumed everyone had cleared out already. Even the bulk of the crew was gone, leaving just himself, the ‘towel boy,’ and his mom in the building. The wheels on the basket groaned as he pushed the door open and guided the cart into the locker room.
The women’s locker room was slightly larger than the men’s, with beige tiles and burgundy lockers. Justin would have said ‘white’ and ‘red,’ but his mother was quite specific, so beige and burgundy it was. The women’s room also tended to be cleaner than the men’s, which was fine with Justin. The less time he had to spend with a mop in his hand, the happier he was. He swept a towel up off the floor and threw it in the cart, then poked his head around a corner to scan the sinks and toilets.
Before he’d taken more than a step towards that part of the room, he heard humming. Justin paused, head cocked, and listened.
Lena Chao crossed his field of vision, coming from the direction of the showers. Her long, silky black hair was pinned up over her head, and a powder blue towel wound around her midsection. Every exposed inch of her skin gleamed with moisture. Beads of water decorated the slope of her neck and glimmered across her exposed cleavage. Her toenails were painted a bright blue, Justin noted, just as her humming stopped.
“Justin?” Lena asked, drawing to a halt. She put a hand on her hip and eyed him with a curious look. “What are you doing in here?” The angle of her hip allowed the edge of her towel to ride up slightly, revealing a little bit more of her thighs. The top of the towel did little to hide the valley between her breasts, either.
“Um,” Justin said, trying to meet her beautiful brown eyes, “I have to clean up.”
Lena nodded. “Shouldn’t you have knocked first?” she asked, but she didn’t sound perturbed. If anything, her tone was playful. She brushed a loose strand of hair behind her ear and approached him slowly, allowing her hips to swing with each step. Her breasts bobbed as well, barely restrained by the blue terrycloth.
“I, uh, I did,” Justin stammered, unable to tear his eyes away from the enticing cleft between her breasts.
“Hmmm,” Lena hummed, eyeing the young man up and down. “I suppose I didn’t hear you while I was in the shower.” She was an arm’s length away from him now, and Justin found himself looking down into her face. Her thin lips quirked into a strange little smile, and a bright light gleamed in her eyes. She stepped closer, and the smell of her fruity soap and her clean body hit him. The knot holding the towel in place looked extraordinarily flimsy.
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