Page 90 of Whiskey Neat

He sure the fuck has my attention now.

“I’m listening.”

“Why don’t we clean up and move to the living room? I don’t want to have this convo with my dick out.”

Laughing softly, I kiss his cheek. “Good call.”

It takes us a few minutes to clean the cum off and put our clothes back on, and no sooner are we sitting on the couch than a woman’s voice calls down from the upper floor.

“Knock, knock. Salem?”

Salem hops up, hurrying over to the stairs. “What are you doing here, Mom?”

She comes down, pausing when she sees me. Her cheeks bloom pink, just like her son’s do sometimes, and she smiles warmly.

“I live here,” she says.

Salem scoffs. “I know that. You were supposed to be out for the evening.”

“Yes, well, there was an incident at Barb’s. Her son accidentally let the huskies in and in their excitement they overturned the bunco table and spilled the margaritas everywhere. After we cleaned up, we decided to try again on a different night.”

Salem’s cheeks are so red he looks sunburned. “Huh.”

“I’m baking a chicken pot pie. It’ll be ready in about ten minutes, and I thought your friend could join us for dinner.”

Salem sputters as he looks between me and his mom. “What? How long have you been home?”

“Oh, about thirty minutes or so.”

Now Salem looks mortified. “Aw, Mom, we weren’t planning to hang out long.”

“But it’s a big pie, and I made a lovely fresh salad to go with it.” Her eyes are on me as she speaks. “You don’t want me to eat dinner alone, do you?”

“I don’t think?—”

“I’d love to stay for dinner,” I say. I can’t take the guilt trip.

His mom’s face lights up. “Wonderful. Come up in ten minutes. I didn’t catch your name.”

“Indy. Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Barlowe.”

“Please call me Maggie.”

She ascends the stairs while Salem rubs his forehead. “She heard us. There’s no way she didn’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Her cheeks were red. It’s a huge tell for both of us. Ugh.”

“I don’t have to stay if you don’t want me to. We could make something up.”

He leans on the banister. “Are you sure you want to?”

“I could eat a home cooked meal.”

A slight smile pulls at his lips. “She’s a great cook.”

“Perfect. I seem to have worked up an appetite.”

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