The two of us stood at the edge of time square, backs to the streetlights, our shiny black leggings reflecting every passing car. The material stretched so tight over our asses that the curve of each cheek was perfectly outlined, the glossy surface catching the glow like wet skin. My mom’s left arm slipped around my waist, fingers pressing low on my hip, thumb tracing the waistband of my leggings. I lifted my right arm, pretending to point at the digital sign, but really I was arching my back so my ass pushed out against her palm.

She leaned closer, breath warm on my ear. "You wore these on purpose," she murmured, squeezing once. My nipples tightened under the thin black top. I shifted my weight, letting my hip rub against hers, feeling the heat of her body through the slick fabric.

"Maybe," I whispered back. My fingers found the hem of her cropped hoodie and slid underneath, brushing bare skin. She didn’t pull away. Instead her hand drifted lower, cupping one cheek of my ass and giving it a slow, deliberate squeeze. The glossy material squeaked softly under her grip.

A cab pulled up behind us, headlights sweeping across our legs, turning the black leggings into mirrors. Mom’s fingers slipped between my thighs from behind, pressing the shiny fabric right against my pussy. I bit my lip, hips rolling once, grinding into her touch. She exhaled hard, the sound almost a growl.

"Not here," she said, but her hand stayed exactly where it was, rubbing slow circles through the tight latex-like material. My own hand slid down to her ass, squeezing back, feeling the firm muscle flex under my fingers. We stayed like that, touching each other while the city moved around us.