“Do you have a toothbrush packed?” my mom called from the downstairs kitchen.

I rolled my eyes and shouted back, hoping my voice would be heard through the nearly-shut doorway, “I do, mom! I told you like a thousand times already!”

“I was just checking,” she nonchalantly called back and I heard some kitchen utensils clanging; she must have gone back to baking.

To be honest, it was a little nice to see my mom being so cheerful. With each item and clothing that I packed into my little luggage I knew I was making it hard for her. I was her little girl and here I was, just turned twenty-one and already leaving for the big city.

Perhaps it would be best if I headed back downstairs and spent some time with her. Who knew when I’d be home? It could be months or years before I ever get to visit. I quickly stopped packing and headed down.

My mom was indeed in the middle of baking but I had no clue on what she was trying to conjure up. The kitchen was a mess and her apron was covered in powdered sugar and flour.

Still, she was adorable-looking. Even at thirty-eight my mom was still a hottie; slim, sexy and had long blonde hair. People say we look the same, down to the blue glint in our eyes and the curves of our bodies that made men drool whenever we passed by. I recalled a time when we both walked into a bar and a guy asked if she was my sister. It was hilarious and sweet at the same time.

“What are you makin’ mom?” I asked her as I slid on one of the high stools.

She turned around and saw what I was wearing, “Do you really plan on going to the city wearing a shirt big enough to be a dress?”

Well, I did have a big football jersey on and a pair of baggy cargo jeans. I looked at her and asked, “What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?”

“It screams ‘countryside’ all over it,” she answered as she shut the oven off, removed her apron and shooed me off my seat. She then began to push me back up to my bedroom. “Come on, you need to put on something that’ll make you stand out.”

Just what I needed: fashion advice from my mom.

As soon as we got into my room she dug through the clothes that I had yet to pack and eventually came up with something for me to wear. However, one of them didn’t seem quite right for her and she took a pair of scissors from the top of my drawers and cut up something with her back turned to me. When she was done she quickly shoved a few things at me and looked at me with impatient eyes.

“Uh, mom?” I didn’t know what she was waiting for. She just stood in front of me silently.

“Go on, change,” she ushered with a hand. “Don’t be shy, I’ve seen you naked honey. I’m your mom, after all.”

I rolled my eyes and realized how silly I was. I blushed back at her but even then I took off my shirt. I didn’t even get to put on the pink tank top my mom gave me when she suddenly stopped me. I looked at her and she had a disappointing look on her face.

She didn’t say a word and just motioned for me to turn around. I did so and to my surprise she took off my bra.

“Mom?” I gasped out.

“Your have nice breasts honey,” she pointed out as she turned me to face her. “A bra will be ridiculous. Besides, you need to learn to flaunt your assets, sweetie. You’re already old enough to drink but you’ve never brought a boyfriend over to house.”

“I’ve never had one,” I reminded her.

She hummed in disappointment, “I know. So put yourself out there. Show off a little. Now, let’s work on the jeans.”

I slid on the tank top and took off my jeans. I tossed them to the side. It kind of hurt me to see them thrown down – they’ve been my favorite since I was sixteen – but I guess my mom was right. I did have a nice body but I always hid it underneath big, baggy clothes.

My eyes went wide when I saw the cloth she had cut and chopped with the scissors. It was one of my old denim shorts. When I put them on they were so short they could have been panties. I felt a little awkward and when I took a step I worried I’d get a wedgie. I turned to look at my butt just to make sure my ass cheeks were covered.

This whole outfit was so freaking revealing.

“I look like I belong in a ‘Dukes of Hazard’ episode,” I told my mom. “I can’t possibly go to the city like this.”

She smiled and suddenly gave my ass a slap, “Sure you can. Trust me, no matter what kind of business you want to open in the city you’re bound to succeed. You’ve got bigger brains than my tits combined, sweetheart. But you also got to be confident. This will help you, trust me.”

I looked at myself in the mirror. She was right though; I did look really pretty. The shorts made my long legs stand out and both my hair and big breasts were noticeable with the tiny top. Maybe if I had the confidence – and the height – I could be a model.

“Okay,” I sighed and caved in. “I’ll keep this on only if you let me have one of those cookies you’re making downstairs.”

My mom giggled and relented. She took me by the arm and we headed down to have ourselves a quick little snack.

It was just an hour later that I had to bid her farewell.

By sunset I was on a bus and on my way to the big city. Seated there, all I could think about during the ride was how all my dreams were about to come true.