Chapter 5: Laundry Drama

Mia arrived home from work exhausted, as usual. Lucia waited until after she returned from the bathroom to interrogate her daughter.

“Mia, if you were sick, you would tell me, wouldn’t you?”

“Of course I would. And, you know, the same goes for you. What brings this up?”

“There was a towel in your laundry basket. It had blood on it! Mia, what’s wrong?”

“Oh, that’s my period. I’m not wounded, Mama.”

“You have tampons, pads, all that stuff; why are you bleeding on a towel?”

“Oh, Mama, you don’t want to know.”

“The hell I don’t! Mia!”

“Remember, you asked me to tell you. The blood is because we had sex during my period; we simply put a towel under us to protect the bed.”

“Oh. OH! Wait, isn’t that unsafe or something?”

“Can you imagine any situation where my husband would hurt me? Of course, it’s safe. Actually, it’s kind of slippery and sticky. I enjoy it. Also, sex makes my cramps disappear; it’s like magic!”

Lucia sat back, stunned. It had literally never occurred to her that she could have penetrative sex on her period. Damn! Again, she was discovering even more times that she could have been screwing Hector.

“Oh, wait, I just realized. There are places on the towel where the spots aren’t so obvious; they’re spread out and lighter, like they’re mixed with—oh no.”

“Oh yes, Mama. He’s very, uh, productive. I guess I should have warned you.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just worried you were hurt or injured and had put this towel on an open wound. I’m sure there are all kinds of things you two do that Hector and I—oh, I was going to say “got to do,” but that’s not right.

“Neither of us had a lot of knowledge. We figured out something that was pretty fun, and we stuck with it. Both before and after we had you, Mia. Hector didn’t do anything fancy; he just made me happy. Oh, don’t ask. I know you want to. I’ll just say not every time, but I would usually climax.

“I just loved watching the feelings on his face during and afterwards. He, no, sorry. That’s enough. I can’t have this conversation.”

“Mama, It’s fine. I was watching the feelings on your face as you remembered having sex with Dad. I suppose I might be the same way if some day long in the future I’m speaking about Gabe.”

Mia fixed her mother with a probing stare.

“Look, you’re all flushed. Why don’t you go lock yourself into your bedroom before dinner and have some fun remembering your husband?”

“What do you mean?”

“Oh, you know, jill off, flick your bean, play with your kitty, and paddle the pink canoe. Masturbate, Mama.”