“Aww that’s sweet, babe… Ffffinally a man who… knnnows how to treat a woman right…”
She leaned back on the couch again and smiled at me. I took her glass over to the cabinet and stood between her and the bottles so she couldn’t see what I was doing. Then I executed the plan that had suddenly occurred to me: I made her a scotch and soda. Maybe I couldn’t stop her drinking, but I could definitely slow it down. Downing neat brandies all night was a bad idea.
“Here you go.” I said and handed her an almost full glass of mostly soda.
“Thanks, baby…” she said and happily started drinking from it.
That was another thing she didn’t normally do. She didn’t call me things like that. Normally, mom treated me like her son, calling me things like ‘son’, ‘sweetie’ or ‘honey’. When she got drunk, it seemed she started calling me by other names… I started to wonder: did that mean that she was also seeing me differently?
“So… how was the party?” I asked hesitantly, sitting down on the far end of the couch some distance from her.
“Oh… pretty good…” she mumbled, sipping from her drink.
“Okay, that’s… good.”
“Yeah…”
“Yeah.”
“Just didn’t get laid, s’all…”
“Uh… sure…”
“Cause I thought maybe… we’d go… hotel room… fuckin’… screw each other’s brains out… but noooo! “Oh, I miss my wife…” blah blah blah blaaah… If you can’t play the game, don’t fffuckin’ sit at my table, loser…”
Mom emptied her drink and sighed again.
“Man, I need a cock so badly right now…”
A nervous chill ran down my spine. I could feel my face reddening. The thoughts of what might happen this evening filled my brain and all sorts of scenarios started playing out in my imagination. Whatever was going to happen could just be minutes away. I got so nervous that when I looked down at my hands, I could see them shivering. I just couldn’t sit still. I had to get out of here.
“Another one? With ice… and a twist?” I asked and stood up to take her glass.
“Yeeees!” she said with a beaming smile.
“Okay.”
I approached her and took the glass out of her hand. As I did so, her fingers stroked my arm for a second or two. Her other arm started touching the outside of my thigh. She looked up at me and said in a slurred voice:
“It’s so sexy that you’re takin’ care of your woman like this…”
“Of course I will, mom.” I replied quickly and stepped back.
My heart was pounding as I walked over to the kitchen. My woman? I mean, technically, I guess she kind of was. She was a woman and I was the only man in the house… and I did help out with housework, so we were sort of a team, helping and supporting each other, being there for each other when we needed something… but that wasn’t what she meant, was it…
I filled her glass with ice cubes and a slice of lemon before heading back, my heart still racing as I thought about my mother’s current ‘needs’. As I walked over to the bottle of scotch I’d left on the counter by the wall, I could see mom lying on the couch with her eyes closed. It looked like she was asleep. I filled her glass once more, this time making the drink even thinner. Then I took it over to her and sat down next to her head.