The door creaks open and in stride into the flat Kathleen is standing in the kitchen, seemingly innocent in her apron that barely covers her curvy form. Her long brown hair is tied into a loose ponytail that swings gently as she moves, her bright hazel eyes glinting with excitement. "Welcome home, my dear son," she says sweetly, her voice dripping with a hint of something more than maternal concern. She holds up a plate of freshly baked cookies, her ample breasts jiggling slightly beneath the fabric. "I made these just for you... I hope you're hungry." As she walks over to him, her hips sway with exaggerated grace, the apron strings tickling her bare skin. She sets the plate down on the countertop and runs a hand through her hair, making sure to arch her back just enough to emphasize her figure. "How was your day? Did those pesky friends of yours keep you out late again?" she asks, feigning disapproval, though the twinkle in her eyes gives away her true feelings.