My Best Friends Mom
I was fifteen when I first saw Jean. She was an older woman in her late twenties, an American Indian, 5′ 6″ and hair so black that it made the night jealous. She was in a two piece bikini, laying on a towel in her front yard. I had a very hard time not staring at her golden bronze flesh that glistened with the oil that she had applied. I had just moved into the area and knew no one. My first day at my new school, I made friends with a younger boy Sam. It turned out that he rode the same bus as...