My Mother's Best Friend
For years we had heard my mother regale us with stories of her 'best' friend, Lori. Mom and Lori had attended school together from grade 4 through college. Mom is athletic but, according to Mom, Lori was the best - she could run the fastest, shoot hoops with guys years older, and out muscle anyone. She always emphasized anyone when my father was around.
When I was about 10 Lori came to visit. She was not what I expected. While Mom looked like a suburban Mom, Lori was, well I guess I'd have to say flashy. At a time when suburban mother's were expected to be demure, Lori wore tight dresses and showed ample cleavage. (I am sure this was the first time I saw cleavage and I remember having trouble not staring.) Lori enjoyed our pool and wore a 'bikini' smaller than my older sisters. She was athletic and played football with us.
About the second or third night of her stay, my sisters had a sleep over with several of their friends. They were 15-16 years old and loved to act sophisticated. They also loved to torment my brother (age 12) and me. After some game in which the girls had chased us around the yard, captured us and caused us great indignation (tickling until we cried), I told them that in a few years I would be bigger and stronger and get even.
My sister Ellen and her friend Karen laughed. "What makes you think you will be stronger than us when your older?" Karen asked.
I was puzzled by the question. Surely, boys were stronger than girls. My present predicament was only due to the age difference. But, I had no reply other than a pathetic, "I will. Boys are stronger than girls."
The girls laughed and Karen said, "You think so? What about your Mom's friend Lori?"
"What about Lori?" I asked still stinging with the indignity of the tickling.
"Lori's stronger than boys and Men!" the girls replied.
"No way!" I said not really as sure as I wanted to sound.
"Yes," said Ellen. "Lori is stronger than Dad, way stronger?"
"She's not!" I replied feeling compelled to defend my father's honor.
"She is," Ellen said. "Mom told me. She told us that Lori beat Dad in arm-wrestling when they were in college."
Now my father was not a body builder but he wasn't a wimp and he was taller and heavier than Lori. I could not believe this. Stupidly, as most ten year olds will, I ran in and asked my Mother for confirmation of Ellen's story.
Mom laughed, "It's true," she said eyeing her friend. "Lori beat most the guys back then."
"And I still can," Lori added flexing her biceps. To my surprise they were big and round and looked very strong.
"Feel?" she said bending over to show me and my brother. I was more than a little shy to touch her arm at least partially due to the spill of female breast over the top of her dress as she bent toward me. Finally, trying unsuccessfully not to stare at the amazing mounds, I put a small hand on the woman's hard bicep.
"Squeeze it," she said as if she did this a lot. And, now I am sure she did.
I tried to squeeze it but the flesh wouldn't move. Her arm was very hard. My brother tried and couldn't penetrate the muscle.
Just then my Dad entered the room returning from his weekly game of golf. "Hey," he said seeing us with Lori, "what are you characters up to?"
Mom replied, "They were just checking out Lori's arms. She is in better shape than ever."
Dad checked out the woman with what I know recall as the classic male once over. "Lori," he said putting an arm around her shoulders, "have I told you that you look fantastic."
Mother grinned as did Lori.
"Dad, are your arms as hard as Lori's?" my brother asked.
My sister and her friend entered the room.
"Well," he stammered suddenly flustered.
"Let's see Phil," my Mom said moving to help him roll up his sleeve.
My Dad flexed and he did have something of a bicep but it was not nearly as impressive as Lori's. It may have been larger because Dad was 5'10" and about 170 pounds to Lori's 5'4" and maybe 135 pounds, but his arm was no where near as muscular looking as Lori's. I moved in to give it the squeeze test and his bicep gave noticeably as I put my small hand around it.
"Hey, you're pretty strong," my Dad said tossling my hair. "He couldn't squeeze Lori at all," my mother added.
Lori sat down. "Come on Phil," she said planting her right arm on the table. "We haven't tried this since we were in school."
My Dad looked reluctant but my sisters and their friends were urging him to take up the challenge. He could hardly refuse.
The sat and took hands. "This will be good," Mom mumbled.
"What?" Dad asked trying to put on a game face. He had Lori's hand in a death grip.
"One fall?" Lori asked. Dad nodded his assent. "I'll count," Ellen added helpfully and quickly said, "1-2-GO!"
The two wrestlers started. Dad looked like he was trying hard and rapidly was very red and holding his breath. Lori looked cool and if you didn't notice the muscles expand in her forearm you wouldn't have known she was exerting any real effort.
"Come on Lori!" the girls exclaimed.
"Rooting against your Dad?" my father grunted trying hard but rapidly losing ground to the powerful woman.
Lori twisted his hand and pulled his arm toward her. Dad struggled to pull back. Lori kept the pressure on and as his hand moved she shifted her weight. In seconds she was above his arm and rotated her right shoulder toward him. Dad gasped and strained but his arm began to quiver and he lost ground rapidly.
Lori raised her her, shook her hair out of her face and smiled at my Mom. I thought I saw her wink. Then there was the thump of Dad's hand hitting the table.
The girls were excited. I don't remember my brother's reaction but I had a hollow feeling in my stomache. This woman, whom I guess even at 10 I realized was very attractive, had just taken my Dad in arm-wrestling. And, it had looked pretty easy.
"About the same result as back in school Phil," Lori said as she released the pressure on his arm.
I remember my Dad rubbing his forearm and shaking his head. Mom and Lori exhanged another of those glances that I would later learned can communicate volumes betweeen women.
