“Sounds good, but I have just one question. Who’s our designated driver?”
“Don’t need one,” Jenna replied. “That’s why we chose this place, Mom. Everything’s within walking distance.”
“Yeah,” said Karen, “more like crawling distance.” I was still laughing when I closed the door to my bedroom and started getting ready.
Forty-five minutes later, I emerged, dressed in a form-fitting burgundy camisole top and a pair of skin-tight black leather pants, with a pair of calf-high leather boots. The other two gaped at the transformation.
“Wow, Mom, you look great!” said Jenna, who was clad in a tight pair of blue jeans and a slinky blue silk top.
“Yeah, you do, Michelle,” gushed Karen as she eyed me up and down. She was looking pretty hot herself in a plaid pleated cotton skirt and black sequined bustier.
After a few more tweaks in the mirror, we were ready, and headed out the door.
Karen led us down the street to this little mom and pop Italian restaurant where the food was amazing. We each had our share of wine with dinner, and as we left the restaurant, I could already feel the relaxing effects of the booze.
After we ate, Jenna led the way to a nightclub a couple of blocks away from the apartment. The music was early-90’s house and techno, my personal favorite to dance to. Even at this early hour, the place was absolutely packed with bodies, and the dance floor was shoulder-to-shoulder. Karen led the way to a table while Jenna went to the bar to get us some drinks.
“You know,” said Karen once we had taken our seats, “Jenna never told me what a hottie her mom was.” A mischievous smile played across her lips that matched the sparkle in her eye.
“Thanks,” I replied, somewhat nervously. If Karen wasn’t drunk, she was well on her way, and although I knew she meant it as a sincere compliment, I didn’t know how much of it was the alcohol talking.
“Girl, your mom is such a hottie,” Karen repeated as Jenna returned with our drinks.
“I know, isn’t she?” Jenna replied. I started blushing and laughed nervously. Jenna had not only gotten us each a beer, but also two shots each of something called a “Red-Headed Slut”.
“So what are you trying to say?” I joked. Both girls laughed.
“Just drink it, Mom, it’s great stuff.”
“What’s in it?”
“Jaegermeister and cranberry juice.”
Karen made a toast to ladies’ night out, and we each downed a shot in one gulp, then chased it with a hefty swig of beer. I raised my second shot.
“To three hotties driving guys crazy!” I cried, my words just a bit slurred. Jenna, Karen, and I tapped our glasses together and down they went, followed by the remainder of our beers.
Jenna stood up, a bit unsteadily. “I’m gonna get us a coupla more beers,” she said, her speech slurring worse than mine. “Karen, take this hot-ass chick out on the dance floor and show her how we drive the boys crazy.” With that, she smacked me on my ass, and headed for the bar.
Karen reached out and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go, Old Lady!” Then she was off for the dance floor, and I was hard-pressed to keep up with her.
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