A fictional story about fictional characters.
*****
Almost from the moment she had happily agreed to the excursion, Debra Barone had regretted it. Her father-in-law, Frank, had been given seven tickets to see Placido Domingo perform in a production of "Cyrano." One of his lodge buddies had won the tickets in a contest sponsored by Metamucil or something. He didn't care anything at all about opera, but had been hoping to win the third place prize of a year's supply of antacid. He had owed Frank some money, but Frank had accepted the tickets instead. Originally there had been ten tickets, but Frank had sold three of them; then presented the remainder to Marie (his wife) as an anniversary gift. Marie idolized Placido, and immediately invited her son Raymond, and his wife and children. Debra, always trying to introduce more culture into her family's lives, had readily accepted the gracious invitation. The only drawback was that the performance was taking place in Philadelphia. Her husband Raymond, had reluctantly accepted because it would give him the opportunity to cover the Islanders/Flyers hockey game in person. Did it just seem that way, or did the hockey season last ten months a year?
Ray was a sports columnist for NY Newsday, and he had convinced the newspaper to pay for a hotel room for the night so he didn't have to spend seven hours driving all in one day; or purchase an airline ticket. With only a nominal fee, he had been able to upgrade the room to a suite large enough to accommodate the entire family. Originally, the entourage was to include Debra's brother-in-law Robert and his girlfriend Amy, but Amy's mother was having minor surgery and Robert had consequently taken an extra shift. He was a Sergeant with the NYPD, and could basically have overtime whenever he wanted.
Right from the moment Marie invited them, she had been incessantly nagging Debra about the trip. First it was about haircuts for the twins, Geoffrey and Michael; then about a new dress for their daughter Ally. Then, "make sure the boys have new suits...we don't want Placido to see them looking like ragamuffins." That was probably the last straw: implying that her sons ever looked dirty or disheveled in public. She began to seriously doubt that she could co-exist with Marie in a car for a three and a half hour journey without strangling her.
Then it was as if fate was sarcastically smiling down on her: the day before the trip, she came down with a sore throat, and a stuffed up head. She felt so miserable that she went to the doctor's office, received some medication, and the diagnosis that she should just stay in bed and rest for a couple days or risk her condition developing into pneumonia. She had never felt so happy to be sick. It was decided that the rest of the family would continue with the plans for the trip. Debra insisted that she would not be the reason they all missed the opportunity of a lifetime. Any other time, Marie would have jumped at the opportunity to play the martyr and stay home to nurse Debra back to health, but there was no way she was going to pass on the chance to see "her Placido." She did make a big flourish about cooking a pot of homemade soup for Debra to enjoy while the family was away.
Debra would never admit it (maybe not even to herself), but the truth was she was relieved not to be accompanying the family to Philadelphia. She was feeling miserable and congested, and looking forward to a whole day to herself. Normally, when a mother is sick, she still ends up waiting on her family, but not this time...Debra would actually have some time to relax and rest. As she trudged up the stairs that evening for an early bedtime, she left behind in her kitchen all the raucous shouting and arguing that always accompanied a Barone excursion. Frank always knew a shortcut to every destination on the planet, which invariably got them hopelessly lost. Luckily for them, this time Ray had gotten a print-out of the directions directly from the newspaper's Business Office.
Before laying down for the night, Debra laid out all her family's clothes for the trip, and packed everything else they would need into a suitcase. She smiled to herself, and muttered, "idiot," as she remembered the time Ray had argued with her about whose responsibility it was to put away the family suitcase after a trip. He had gone off on another trip for the newspaper and left the suitcase sitting on the stairs with a hunk of ripe cheese rotting inside just to annoy her. She downed her pill with a swig of Nyquil and drifted off to a fitful sleep, dreaming of a large white-haired dragon with sulfur-breath.
Early the next morning, after making sure everything was packed, everyone was presentable, and the tickets were in the car, Debra waved "good-bye" as her family pulled out of the driveway. Through the window she could see that Marie's mouth was a study of perpetual motion, and knew that she was the lucky one, staying home. As soon as her family was safely out of the driveway, Debra doubled-up on her medication, and curled up on the sofa for a quiet nap. She didn't wake up until four and a half hours later when Ray called to assure her they had arrived safely; if not sanely. He agreed that he wouldn't call again until the next day so she could rest without interruption.
Feeling marginally better after her nap, Debra nuked a bowl of Marie's chicken soup, and had to admit that it did clear her sinuses slightly. She was about to settle back down on the sofa when she was struck by a brainstorm. She was feeling a little grungy, and reasoned that a long hot, steamy shower would probably help clear her nasal passages even farther. Remembering that when Robert had moved out , Frank had renovated Robert's bedroom and installed a hot tub; Debra decided to go across the street and treat herself to a good long soaking. After taking another dose of her medication (she really couldn't remember when she had taken the last pill), she grabbed the bottle of champagne that someone had given them for their tenth anniversary, wrapped herself up in her terrycloth robe and fuzzy slippers, and plodded over to her in-law's house.
Although she had brought the key, the back door was unlocked. "What is it with this family and unlocked back doors," she thought. Even though she was stuffed up, the house smelled like Jean Nate perfume, and spaghetti sauce. Debra grabbed a glass and headed upstairs to the relief of the hot tub. She quickly turned on the hot tub, and knowing that she was probably emitting a strong scent from having feverish sweats, she decided to take a nice hot shower before jumping into the tub. Her first priority was to pour and drink, not one but two glasses of champagne. Unfortunately she could barely taste the bubbly, but it did tickle her throat going down. She had to admit that Marie had a nice selection of body washes and scrubbers, as she shucked off her flannel pajamas and stepped into the shower. Turning the hot water up as far as she could stand it, she just stood under the running water and let it cascade soothingly down over her naked body.
It felt so good that Debra shivered. She wanted it to last forever, but knew she would feel even better sitting in the waiting hot tub. She slowly poured some of Marie's body wash over her body and began soaping her luscious body. When she bent over to retrieve the dropped bottle of soap, she had to steady herself against the side of the enclosure, as the combined effects of the (double) medication and the champagne had made her slightly dizzy. She never had been able to tolerate much alcohol; a fact that Ray was constantly attempting to take advantage of. The hot, steamy air was having the desired effect of clearing her sinuses, because she could now smell the flowery scent of the body wash. Her inhibitions were also being affected, because she was greatly enjoying the way her huge breasts flopped around on her chest while soaping them.
She was well aware that they were her best feature and real "attention-getters." They had grown to a full 38 D when pregnant with the twins, and had remained that way even after the nursing months. Ray had nicknamed them "Thelma and Louise," and she knew all his friends enjoyed sneaking glances at them if she wore anything low-cut. After nursing, her areola had grown a darker shade of pink, but her gumdrop sized nipples were still just as sensitive, and even now were erect. Her hand crept lower and began to soap the area between her legs. Since the birth of the twins, she had alternated her grooming pattern: sometimes she would shave her pubic area completely, and at other times she would leave a tiny "landing strip" patch of bright red pubic hair just above her slit. She was now in a "landing strip" phase, as her soapy hand tickled the short curly hair.
She laughed to herself that she must be feeling better, because she really wanted to bring herself off, but quickly decided that with her slightly woozy condition, she would be better off waiting until she was sitting in the hot tub. She spread her soapy hands all up and down her still shapely legs,and cupped her firm ass cheeks. Although age was causing her ass to begin to jiggle a little, she thought that made it even more sexy. When she was thoroughly clean and refreshed, she didn't even bother toweling off, but gulped down the remainder of her third glass of champagne, and scampered into the adjoining hot tub room, leaving a trail of water droplets on the floor. After flicking on the whirlpool jets, she slowly and deliciously submerged her magnificent nude body into the bubbly hot water.
"Ahhhh," she breathed out loud, as she felt the all-encompassing heat surround her. She reached for the champagne bottle which she had left on the rim of the tub, then realized she had left her glass in the other room by the shower. As she leaned back against the wall of the tub, she took a long swig directly from the bottle and thought, "who needs a glass...it's all for me." Reasoning that she had better drink all of the champagne soon or it would be too warm, she chugged the remaining liquid and drained every last drop from the bottle. Before long she was beginning to feel very dizzy and lightheaded: a combination of the medication, the entire bottle of champagne, and the heat increasing her circulation.
Within a few minutes, she had drifted off to sleep, and was having a very erotic dream about being in the embrace of a bare chested matador named Cyrano, when she was awakened by the sound of someone shouting in the hallway just outside the bathroom door.
Debra didn't panic, she was far too drunk for that, but her groggy mind raced: who was shouting; where the hell was she and why was she in a swimming pool? Any thoughts she had of standing were quickly erased when she attempted it and nearly fell head first. She laughed in her head, "oh yeah, I'm drunk as hell."
Suddenly she recognized the voice as being that of Robert, and he was demanding, "hello...is anyone there...I am a police officer and I have a gun." Debra tried to answer him but wasn't quite conscious enough yet to form coherent words. He rounded the corner, gun drawn, shouting, "put your hands in the air."
