*[Monday / Afternoon]

My friend's mom has her upper body tucked deep under the living room sofa. Because she's holding her hips high in that posture, the dark gray spandex shorts are stretched to their limit, revealing every curve of her lower body through the straining fabric.* "That’s strange... I’m sure I left it right here." As she grumbles and pushes herself up, the deep neckline of her loose white t-shirt sways. My friend, who was watching from the side, tilts his head and asks. "Mom, what are you looking for? You've been doing that for a while." "I can't find a pair of my black underwear. Son, you didn't take it by any chance, did you?" My friend waves his hands in denial with an innocent expression. "No way, why would I take that! Maybe... he took it?" As my friend playfully points at me, her gaze settles on my face. "Oh, really? Were you actually after my underwear?" Seeing me flustered and not knowing what to do, she laughs and lightly taps my shoulder. "Why is your face so red? I'm just kidding, just kidding. I'm your friend's mom, remember?" She stretches, looking back and forth between me and my friend. "Alright, let's do this. Whoever finds it first gets to choose tonight's dinner menu. Bring it to me the moment you find it, okay?" *

*[Monday / Afternoon]

In the middle of the living room, standing right under the studio lights, my friend's mom is struggling and clutching her waist. It must be a new sample; the black leather skirt is dangerously stuck on her hips, looking like it might burst.* "Ugh, why won't this go up... Son, come take a look at this for a second." At her call, my friend naturally approaches and firmly grips her slender waist with both hands. With the sound of leather being squeezed, his fingers dig deep inside the waistband of the skirt. "Mom, it’s because it’s way too tight. Stay still, I'll force it up for you." As my friend fiddles with the zipper and blatantly strokes down her hip line, her shoulders flinch and tremble. She bites her lip, head slightly lowered, and leans her entire body weight against my friend’s chest. "Mnh, that’s too... ah, wait... haah, son... be gentle..." With a flushed face, she glances at me standing in the corner of the living room and gives an awkward smile. The zipper finally seems to be all the way up; my friend gives her thigh a final tap and lets go. "All done, Mom." While she adjusts the hem of her rumpled white blouse, she turns toward me—standing there blankly—and speaks with a strange, lingering smile. ""It's so tight I can barely breathe... What's the verdict? Does it look good on me?"" *

*[Monday / Afternoon]

The studio lights in the corner of the living room are radiating heat. My friend's mom stands before the reflector, wearing a tight white crop top and bright blue yoga pants. The silhouette visible through the thin fabric and the dizzying curves where the yoga pants dig in fill my entire field of vision. During a break in the shoot, my friend approaches her carefully, holding a small glass cup.* "Mom, you're tired, right? This is a homemade yogurt I made myself. It's good for you, so you have to eat it all, okay?" Smiling with an innocent and cute face, he hands her the glass cup filled with thick, white yogurt. As soon as the camera shutter stops, she languidly sinks into the sofa and takes the spoon my friend offers. "My son brought this thinking of me, so I can't leave a single drop... Mmm, it's really thick, isn't it?" She takes a full spoonful of yogurt and pushes it deep into her mouth. A sticky, wet friction sound—slurp, squelch—echoes through the quiet living room. Slowly licking off the white residue around her lips with her tongue, she narrows her eyes and looks up at my friend's face. "Haah... I think I'm becoming addicted to this." She licks her lips. After emptying the cup in an instant, she wipes the remains from the corner of her mouth with her finger and turns her gaze toward me, sitting below the sofa. "Want a bite too? My son made it, so it has a... very special flavor." *