I was OK until I sat up. Now I was feeling nauseous and there was a throbbing pain in my temple. The only consolation was that Amy must be feeling worse than me. Last night, the two of us had been celebrating my birthday. It had been a late night with lots of alcohol consumed. I had been drunk, but my friend was worse. The taxi had dropped her off first, and I'd had to help her into her apartment, and that had been hard work because she was unsteady on her feet. I'd wanted to stay with her but she insisted that I should leave.
With most of her words slurred, she'd said, "I'll be OK. Jack will take care of me."
And I knew that he would. Both of us were single parents, each with just one child. Amy had Jack and I had Harry. We were lucky. Two good-hearted boys that were always eager to help us.
It was an effort to get out of bed, but fifteen minutes later, after a large dose of painkillers and a strong black coffee, I was feeling a lot better, but not well enough to eat, so I skipped breakfast.
It had been a good night, lots of laughing and talking, but the details were a bit hazy, especially late on when we'd been drunk. I could remember making a solemn vow to Amy that I would keep her secret. I'd even stood up, and then, with my hand on my heart, I'd theatrically declared, "I'll take it to my grave."
And I could remember everybody looking at me and wondering what I was doing, but annoyingly, despite my best efforts, I couldn't recall what her secret was.
At midday I ate a light lunch, and thankfully I managed to keep all of it down. More of what had happened last night was coming back to me. Had I really danced with that man? I had, and we'd even kissed. I was eager, but his hand up my skirt, only five minutes after meeting him, and doing it in public for all to see, was too much for me. I'd pushed him away and he'd ended up on the floor, flat on his back. He'd then quickly left the dance floor with his tail between his legs, and that was the end of our brief relationship. At the time I'd thought that he was a catch, but now I realized that he was nothing special, in fact he was a bit creepy. I'd had a lucky escape, I could have woken up and found him in bed with me. Imagining that made me shudder.
When Amy and I meet we always end up talking about our children, and last night had been no exception. With pride, I'd told her how well Harry was doing at university, and she'd told me something about Jack. But what was it?
When it suddenly came to me, the mug slipped from my hand, shattering into a million pieces when it hit the kitchen floor. But for now, the mess on the floor was of no concern.
What I was remembering couldn't be right. I'd consumed a lot of wine and several shots, and that was not a good combination. My mind must be playing tricks on me, but the memory was now so vivid that it must be true. I shook my head in disbelief as I recalled her opening words, that had been said without any preamble.
"Jack fucks me. I know that it's wrong but I don't care. I love it when his cock is deep inside me. I can't get enough of him."
Now, in the cold light of day, I was shocked, but at the time, because my judgement had been affected by what I had been drinking, it amused me. I could remember laughing loudly, and then asking her for more details.
"He's young, so he's eager for sex. It's been a long time since I've been with a man so I am making the most of it. He's only had one serious girlfriend, and they were together for just three months, so he's not experienced. That's not a problem. I'm the teacher and he's the willing pupil."
Last night, that seemed sensible, and after hearing it, I'd nodded in agreement.
"Because it's new to him he's so enthusiastic. On Monday he spent nearly an hour with his head between my legs. My pussy came three times. He wanted to continue but I had to stop him."
Then she'd giggled, and I was so envious. Like her, it had been a long time since there was a man in my life. I needed somebody like Jack to satisfy me in the bedroom.
"You should fuck him as well."
Thinking about that had excited me. He was nineteen, tall and handsome, and I was a frustrated forty two year old woman. He was perfect for me, but would he be interested?
Last night, that had been a worry, but now, in the morning, it wasn't, because I had no intention of inviting Jack into my bed.
While I was sweeping up the floor I tried not to think about my friend and her new relationship, but I was fighting a losing battle. Why had she told me? I would prefer not to know. It was going to be embarrassing the next time I saw her. And it will be worse when Jack comes to hang out with Harry. When I look at him, I know that all I will be thinking about is him fucking his Mother, and worryingly, my body language might give me away, telling him what's on my mind.
It was one o'clock when Harry returned. He'd been staying with a friend.
After greeting me with a smile, he said, "Don't bother cooking, I've already eaten."
That was just as well, because I'd no intention of making him a meal. But I did make both of us a coffee.
"Did you have a good time last night?"
It was an innocent question, and one that I should have expected him to ask, but hearing it made me wince. And he noticed.
While grinning cheekily, he said, "So somebody has a guilty secret."
Yes, but not me.
"If I go upstairs to the bedroom, will I find a man there?"
No, but if he was to look in Amy's bedroom then it would be a yes, and that man would be Jack, her Son.
I shook my head, and then under my breath, I muttered, "I wish there was."
That made him laugh, and when he'd finished, he said something that made me feel uncomfortable.
"I think Jack has got a new girlfriend, but he says he hasn't."
"Why don't you believe him?"
"It's the way that he's acting. He's too happy. He must be seeing somebody. Do you know what I mean?"
I nodded. Like Harry, he was nineteen. They were young men, always chasing pussy. For his friend to be that happy could only mean one thing. He had been successful. He was getting sex, and getting it often.