The Fashion Towne Chronicles

Mallory Pt1

"Sweetheart, what are you reading?" Mom asked looking over at me from her laptop where she was working on her latest novel.

She and I were relaxing in the living room after dinner. There was nothing worth watching on TV, and my homework was done, so I had started skimming through some catalogs she left on the end table looking for anything interesting.

We had always been close, but ever since her divorce had been finalized she seemed to put more effort into spending what she called 'quality time' with me. Yeah, that's what she calls this, quality time. She sits there and works on her novel, occasionally asking my input and I watch TV or read.

"Just a catalog, Mom," I replied.

"Oh, which one? Let me see, Mallory."

What a name I had- Mallory. Supposedly I was named for the famous mountain climber that was an early explorer of Mount Everest, but the name always sounded more girlish than adventurous, to me.

I glanced down at what was in my hand - a Velheim Couture's Estrohaus Fall Collection catalog. Not only that, it was currently open to a page of intimates.

Blushing, I quickly shoved in between my back and the couch cushion and sat there silently. Maybe Mom would let the issue drop.

"Mallory, dear, I am not prying, but your acting guilty is not good." Her look was loving but controlling. "I suspect something has been troubling you, and we should talk about it." What did she think was troubling me?

If only I could find a way to express my mixed up feelings. But talking about personal topics was nearly impossible for me. Not feeling like a normal boy was difficult to discuss with anyone, but especially a parent.

"Maybe later, Mom."

There was no way I was going be able to honestly explain why I was looking at the lingerie section of a girls clothing catalog.

I picked up one of my school books and pretended to be reading. Glancing up, I saw Mom looking directly at me. She seemed determined to wait me out. Two can play that game. After half an hour she was still waiting for me to reveal the catalog, and I wouldn't be able to put off a bathroom call much longer either.

She saw me looking up and demanded, "Show me what's behind you, sweetie." She stood up, and I gave up. Without saying anything I reluctantly pulled the catalog from behind my back and held it out toward her.

"Girls fashions. You looking for a new wardrobe? What page were you looking at?"

Her look told me that resisting would do no good, so nervously I opened it to the page of teen models posing in matching bras and panties. Mom glanced at the page then sat down next to me.

"Thank you, sweetie. There is nothing to be embarrassed about. It's perfectly normal for boys your age to wonder what girls have on underneath," she said with a wink. "You know, before the Internet, the bra section of sales catalogs are all boy's had to satisfy their curiosity."

I tried to turn away. Words choked up in my throat as I felt her hand on my cheek. "It's not that at all, Mom," I said impulsively. I wasn't sure what I was denying, but I had to say something.

"What do you mean 'not that'? How do you feel when you look at pictures of pretty girls in their undies? Do you get a little rise between your legs?"

Oh, gawd! Mom always was totally open about sexual topics, much to my embarrassment. I paused and looked away.

I was so mixed up about girls. I liked being around them, and all of my close friends at school were girls. I was usually uncomfortable whenever I found myself in an all-boy group, especially when the 'locker room' talk started. The things they said about girls didn't sound like anything I would ever want to do to a girl.