I reproduced the effort of swaying back and forth like I had been while pulling my drunk hubby and my breasts were slapping each other silly back and forth. What’s more depending on the angle of the mirror it was entirely possible that my son may have actually seen some hair sticking out down there. I had not yet developed my middle age paunch that would have hidden my triangle of hair from that angle.At first my stomach did flips, I could not believe that I had so carelessly exposed myself to my son like that. Then while laying down next to my passed out hubby in my sheer nightie it also dawned on me that little Ricky was the only person to have shown any interest in what I had hidden in years really. I really did not sleep well that night at all, just too many emotions but I do have a clear memory of what emotion won out. Anger at my husband for becoming a drunk, anger at being ignored, frustration, the sexual kind, anger at my husband for being the kind of drunk that has to be. The only things on the car are the required safety features. Other than that everything that doesn't make the car go faster is gone." How much horsepower," she gushed."Six hundred and sixty," I said."Wanna race," she asked. I laughed."One ... You're a cop," I said. "Two ... I don't do street racing. It's illegal and unsafe." Okay I was lying about that part because she was a friggin' cop. "And three ... that turd you're driving wouldn't stand a chance."She laughed herself. "They have to pay me to drive this thing," she said. "It's like driving a bus with racing strips. My car, on the other hand, is a beautiful, sleek Camaro SS." The smile on her face and the accompanying smirk told me everything I needed to know.If I wasn't so busy, I would have loved the ensuing chaos. Unfortunately, I had other things on my mind."Rain check," I said? She looked at me, and the smirk faded. It was replaced with a look of concern that touched me."You look like you're driving to your own execution,".
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