She invites me over, this time along with some girlfriends. We bond, as mothers do, but we are of different generations. She and I are near the end of our parenting tenure; the other two are young and fairly new to this adventure. We have girl time, talking and sharing stories, not just about husbands or kids or recipes, but about things that matter in our hearts, our minds, our personal perceptions. We drink and smoke, have fun with just ourselves. We take a poll about who enjoys giving blow jobs. She and I both do; we love the power. The others do not.
We talk about how we have changed, and the young ones are still naive. We share our bodily differences, and She shows her nipples to the one without boobs, Ms Flatness. Ms Flatness shows hers, and complains about her nipple dropping into her areola. Be happy with yourself, they tell her. NO! I say, if you want a boob job, get one. In the end, you have to be happy, and if you are miserable being flat, then do something. It’s okay to want to change, to grow, to be different than you are, I tell them all. Probably the pot speaking. I am open. I want to be different.We could spend hours talking, and we almost do. Laughing, grouping and regrouping, it is nice to be just us women.
Later, the men and children arrive. The tone changes, even though they do not interfere. But suddenly we are mothers again. Some of them are wives. Their roles are clear. Right now, they cannot change, to redefine, because they cannot lose what they have.
In the kitchen, She wants to tempt me. Close your eyes, she directs, and bring the smell into you. I lean forward into her open legs, as she is sitting on the counter. I place my hands on either leg, holding them, as I obey her, willing my body to stay still. I caress her knee where her jeans are oh-so-artfully torn. She passes the cooked meat below my nose, and I breathe deep. I hear her guttural laugh, know that She knows that I know that She has all the power. Take in the essence, She commands. I laugh nervously and open my eyes to look at her. Ms Flatness is my witness. I turn to see, but She says to close my eyes again. I turn back, and do as I am told. Again she passes the meat under my nose, and I breathe. I can smell her beyond the meat. I take in the essence as well. Open your mouth and take it in, taste it, She orders, and of course I do. She shoves it in aggressively. There! She is victorious. Once again, She has made me do what she wants.