Jean Evans suddenly pulled her white Honda Accord sedan to the curb in front of a dark strip mall on the quiet avenue leaving the downtown area to the eastern suburbs and home. She turned in her seat belt and reached across the center console to a surprised young woman in the passenger seat, her daughter, Abby Evans.

Abby looked around outside the car, even checking the car’s dashboard for some sign of trouble. “What’s wrong, mom?”

Jean just stared at her daughter. Her eyes began glistening and a tear threatened to drop down her cheek. She swiped it away with the back of her hand. Jean Evans, a 39 year old single mother has raised Abby by herself working as a receptionist/secretary for a real-estate office for over 10 years since her husband filed for divorce. Despite her 39 years, she could be mistaken as considerably younger with her trim, athletic body on a 5’ 5”, 110 pound frame and 34C breasts with long, wavy gold-blonde hair that extends past her shoulders. The sudden stop and misting of her eyes as she took in her daughter next to her was because of a sudden guilt of what she had just asked of her daughter. Gazing at the innocent appearance of the young woman next to her just added to the feelings of betrayal that seemed to consume her in recognition of how their life had recently changed. Abby, a 19 year old Community College student studying in a program for Administrative Assistant was the joy of her life and, if she were to be honest, turned out pretty well despite by a single parent except she might be too much like Jean in one respect. Abby looked very much like her mother which they both enjoyed. Abby’s smaller frame, though, was still trim and athletic but on a 5’3”, 100 pound frame and smaller breasts of 34B.

Jean sighed deeply, then stared out the windshield. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m a terrible mother and you’re so … so … perfect. You deserve a mother that doesn’t take advantage of you like this.”

Abby reached across the console and pulled a hand off the steering wheel to also get her mom’s attention. “Take advantage of me? Like this? You mean like tonight? What we did tonight?”

Jean nodded as she steeled herself to look at her daughter, the wetness in her eyes finally releasing and falling down both cheeks.

“Mom … what’s going on? Tonight … tonight was just you helping me with a fantasy, a desire to experience something we’ve talked about.” Abby reached up, placed her hand on her mom’s face, and their eyes locked. “Mom, you’re a wonderful mom. You’re a perfect mom for me. I’m not promiscuous because of you. Remember? I was promiscuous in high school before I had a clue you were, too. We both hid our experiences so well neither of us had a clue. It wasn’t until your date that one night ended badly and you came home early and caught me with Johnny Bartles.”