I’ve been divorced for two years. My son, 21, recently graduated from college and moved home temporarily with me until he landed a job. In the mean time, though, he’s always bringing home women. He doesn’t have a hard time.
His newest fling is a 19 year old red head named Sam. She flaunts her tight body around the house, especially in the morning, when she comes downstairs in her see through tank top and booty shorts.
My son sees me. I can’t keep my eyes off of her. She’s irresistibly sexy.
“Dad,” my son said as we sat around the table. I got a job in Chicago. Remember the one I was interviewing for? They called last night to make me an offer and I accepted.”
I slapped the table and reached across to give him a handshake.
“That’s fucking great! I’ll be sad to see you go, though.”
Sam waited for the coffee to brew. She didn’t seem to mind. They weren’t in a relationship, anyway. She was just a fling.
“Anyway, I’m gonna go for a run. I’ll be back in an hour. Sam, you good?”