It was half past one by the time I arrived back at my apartment. I stumbled to the door labeled 36d. Fuck, I am drunk. I hope David and Laura have moved things to his bedroom because I’m not going to be able to be discreet in my current state. I fished out my keys from my clutch purse, dropped them up, bent down to pick them, nearly fell, got the keys, and after a few stabs at the door lock finally let myself in.
Why’s it so dark in here? I thought as I pawed at the wall trying to find the light switch. “Fuck it!” In my highly inebriated state, I gave up trying to locate the panel and headed in the direction of the kitchen.
“God damn!” I exclaimed as I banged my knee against something hard. Keep it quiet, girl. David and Laura are probably asleep by now. If he’s anything like me at that age, he probably wore himself to the bone. Also, don’t think of your son having sex. It’s wrong no matter how attractive he is.
I felt and stumbled my way until I found the refrigerator door. I opened the frig and relished the cool air and burst of light. “Ah, there you are,” I said to no one in particular as I reached in and grabbed a three-quarter full bottle of sweet red wine. Wonder where the bottle of white is. Surely, I didn’t drink that. Fuck if I can remember right now.
I opened the bottle and turned it up taking a large swig of the alcoholic nectar. “That’s the stuff,” I said as I wiped the dribbles of the crimson liquid from my mouth. I headed off, in the dark, to find the large recliner.
A few more sips of wine and some wobbly unsure steps and I finally reached the big comfy recliner that I so loved to watch HGTV from until I fell asleep. Hmm, I must have left the footrest out. I jumped in the chair and then immediately jumped out.
“Oh my God! David! What are you… Where’s Laura… I thought…,” I stuttered thoroughly embarrassed that I had just drunkenly sat down in my son’s lap.
“Hi mom,” David replied in a sleep encrusted voice. He lifted a bottle to his lips drinking deeply.
“Is that my bottle of white?” I asked with a hint of interrogating tone in my voice as my motherly instincts kicked in.
“Yeah,” David said as he took another long swallow. “I got to say it was a bit vinegary at first but I believe I’m developing a taste for it.”
My anger flared at my underage son brazenly drinking in front me. I snatched at the bottle of booze he was drinking. Unfortunately, the darkness coupled with my drunkenness caused me to lose my footing and tumble back into my son’s embrace.
“If you wanted a taste so bad you only needed to ask,” my son sarcastically stated.
I pushed my head up out of his taught muscular chest. When I looked up my face was only inches from his. My eyes were finally adjusting to the dark to make out his chiseled jaw line. “Are you okay?” I asked as I noticed David appeared to have been crying.
David scowl was evident in the darkened room. “Fine,” he spat out harshly.
Concerned I sat up in his lap and took his face in my hands. “David Curtis don’t you lie to me.”